Саманта Сильвер - Sleeping With The Fishes

We were led into a gorgeous office with floor-to-ceiling windows behind a fancy mahogany desk. The man behind the desk was dressed in an expensive suit, though no amount of money could hide the fact that he was grossly overweight. Looking to be in his mid-fifties, with greying hair and a bald patch, Tony Fanchini rose when we entered the room and motioned for us to sit down in the two plush leather chairs in front of his desk.

“Ladies, it’s nice to meet you,” he said, shaking our hands. He was polite, but I couldn’t help but get a little bit of a creepy vibe off him. “I’m Tony Fanchini, owner here at Fanchini Enterprises. I hear we have–or should I say had–a mutual acquaintance.”

“Yes, Matt Smith,” I replied. “I’m Angela Wilson.”

“Sophie Hashimori,” Sophie added, as we both shook his hand and then sat down.

“So I suppose you’ve heard the news he’s been killed,” I said.

“Yes, my lawyer called me yesterday to let me know. He said it’s going to complicate our case tremendously. How were you involved with Smith?”

“My vet clinic was on a property which Smith attempted to purchase. When I resisted him, Smith attacked my property, although it could never be proven, and after I convinced my landlord to sell the property to me instead, he set the vet clinic on fire.” I figured honesty was the best policy to get Fanchini to talk. He let out a low whistle.

“Yes, that man certainly had ideas as to how to do business that had more to do with what he saw on television than reality. I’m going to assume you don’t know much about the property development business?”

“That would definitely be a good assumption,” I replied.

“The thing is, it’s actually quite a bit different to how things are portrayed on television. Of course there are disputes, and shady developers. But it’s a lot less exciting in real life. Shady developers usually either go broke, in which case they drive their BMWs around the corner and start up a new company, or they build a shoddy product. Either way, the parties involved end up going to court, and it’s all settled rather civilly. It’s extremely rare for a property developer to be involved in an actual violent crime.”

“And that’s what you’re doing, going to court. Can I ask what your company is suing Smith for?”

Tony Fanchini smiled, a slightly predatorial smile. “I can’t go into details for legal reasons, obviously, but I can give you the gist of it. After all, all of this is already public. One of my companies, Peacock Hills Property, is developing a new subdivision in a suburb east of here, in Springdale. Smith got wind of the plan, and bought a number of properties adjacent to the lots we purchased.”

“So?” Sophie asked. “Isn’t that totally legal?”

Tony smiled a wry smile at her. “It is. But then, after we began construction on our lots, Smith claimed that we were building on his property, and that the property line was in fact not where we thought it was. So he sued us.”

“That’s strange,” I muttered. “I didn’t hear anything about their being an active case where Smith was the plaintiff.”

“There isn’t, his case was thrown out of court three weeks ago,” Tony said. “I counter-sued as soon as he filed, but our case is still pending. We were certain to win before he died, and we’re still likely to win now. After all, we sued a company, not a person. Now we simply need to wait for the estate to be sorted, there will be delays, but I will get my money eventually. That’s the thing about people like Smith. They go to business school, they think they’re such hot stuff, and then the real world rakes them over the coals.”

“Was his business partner, Jake, involved in this?” I asked.

Tony shook his head. “No, Smith bought the land through a company where he was the sole owner. I’ve met Jacob, his business partner. He seems much smarter than Smith, and much more cautious. Less foolhardy. I imagine he refused to involve himself in this deal.”

“So Smith being dead actually complicates things for you,” I said.

“Yes, absolutely. I had an open and shut case to get damages and lawyer fees back, now it’s going to be more complex.”

“Did Smith ever try to get revenge on you after he lost his case?”

“If you’re asking if he tried to set my office on fire, no. However, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had something planned. I saw him sneaking around near the property one night when I went out to oversee some of the construction. I called the police, but he left before they arrived so they were unable to do anything. He was too hot-headed for his own good.”

I nodded. “Ok, thanks. Let your lawyers know what I told you, if any of it can be of any use, your receptionist has my card.”

“Will do. I doubt it will help, but you never know. It was nice to meet you,” he said. I left the office feeling as though I didn’t know anything about Tony Fanchini. He had no reason to kill Matt Smith at all, and yet there was something about him that I didn’t like, something I just couldn’t quite put my finger on.

As Sophie and I got into the car, I sighed.

“Yeah, I agree,” Sophie said. “I think we just eliminated another suspect.”

“I just hope our trip to Sisters ends with a better result,” I said.

Chapter 11

Just over ninety minutes later we pulled into Sisters. I gave Sophie directions and we drove past the address where Richard Steele lived, presumably with his daughter. From the front, it looked like nothing special. An old barbed wire fence with wooden posts that looked like they’d been there at least five decades lined the front of the property. A good half dozen signs warning that it was private property and not to enter hung near the gate at the front of the property. A few large trees along the side of the road hid most of the property from view, but I could see a house in the distance.

“Maybe just keep driving,” I suggested. “I don’t think this guy is going to be happy to get visitors.”

Sophie and I drove back into downtown Sisters and parked the car on the main street. “So what are we going to do to try and figure out what’s up with this guy?” Sophie asked. “I mean, that was basically the sketchiest of sketchy farms ever, the type of place you see at the beginning of a horror movie just before a whole bunch of people die. Even those trees looked depressed.”

I laughed, but Sophie was right. It didn’t exactly look like a welcoming place, and we both knew that if the owner was keeping smuggled exotic animals there, he wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to see us.

“Turn into birds again?” I suggested. A few months ago, while trying to investigate a different murder on a farm, I’d used my magic to turn us into birds. Unfortunately, the spell turned us into the birds that most suited us, and the universe decided I should be a Steller’s Jay, the world’s most annoying bird. I knew Sophie would be thrilled with this idea; she got to be a bald Eagle.

“Definitely,” Sophie grinned. “It’s been at least two hours since I’ve heard the annoying screech of a Steller’s Jay in my ear.”

I stuck my tongue out at her. “Let’s go back toward the house. We’ll park on the side of the road, but we’ll do it in the middle of nowhere so I can cast the spell without anyone seeing.”

Sophie nodded and started the car up again as we made our way back out into rural Oregon. A few minutes later we parked on the side of the road. It wasn’t the safest looking spot, and seeing as the road was barely wide enough for two cars I wasn’t sure it was even legal to park here, but oh well. We weren’t going to be long, and this didn’t exactly look like a high-traffic area.