J. Simmons - Icy Blue Descent

Lynn crossed her legs with a swishing of nylon, put both hands in her lap. We all turned and looked at her. She smiled.

Glossman said, "Both Lynn and Rene were informed of certain parts of the Will when each reached the age of twenty-one. That's why Lynn has been working in the bank in Jackson. She's been handling the accounts of her family business. We thought it the best method of letting her see how we were running the company."

Turning to her, I said, "You could have told me this yesterday."

Glossman held up a hand. "Lynn was supposed to take over the operation of the company this week. Rene was required to be present at the changeover. There were a lot of paperwork and court proceedings to be handled. Bill was in New Orleans yesterday working on some of this. The disappearance of Rene has stopped us from going forward. We will continue to run the company until she is found. We've had an injunction issued by a judge to allow this."

Now I understood why Lynn wanted her sister found. Huge amounts of money were involved. But why didn't she call Glossman to start with?

"When we finish here, Bill will show you what has happened with the company in the ensuing years. I think you will be surprised. For now, I want you to consider yourself working for Glossman Enterprises, for me personally. We want you to put maximum effort into finding Rene, dead or alive."

Lynn let out a sob.

"I'm sorry, Lynn. That was insensitive. Forgive me."

"You thinking kidnapping?"

"If so, there's been no demand," Joe said, with sadness. "Information leaks out."

Bill Moran shifted position in his chair, an uncomfortable look on his face.

"Yes, always does."

"If you need anything, get in touch with Bill. We want you to keep it quiet, but work as fast as you can. Report directly to Bill or me. He has the rest of the information in his office. He'll fill you in."

We all stood. This meeting was over.

After Bill and Lynn walked out of the office, Glossman put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.

"It's good to see you again, Jay. If you're as good an investigator as you are an airplane pilot, I'm satisfied we've got the best man for the job."

"Thanks for the compliment, Mr. Glossman." I looked him directly in the eyes. "I'll find Rene, but you've got to promise me none of your people will be looking for her at the same time, and that Lynn stays out of it. I can't babysit her and do my job, too."

"It's your ballgame, Jay. Run with it. Oh, and I know what you are thinking, why didn't she call me first when she realized Rene was missing? I've already chastised her about that. She said she merely did not think it through, acted on her own. That's the way she is, Jay. Strong headed and strong willed. Just like her father."

"Thanks, it makes sense now. By the way, how is old T. Windom? He still trying to keep together that fleet of French-built, loosely flying collection of nuts and bolts that you insist on calling aircraft?"

Glossman laughed. He knew I was kidding. He owned some of the finest built corporate jets in the world.

"Windom's doing fine. You should call him, might have an opening. We always need good pilots."

"Thanks, I may contact him while I'm on the coast." We shook hands.

When I entered Moran's office, he was leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. Lynn was seated across from him in a relaxed pose, a blank expression on her face.

Bill was a slim man, close to forty years old, with a head full of coal-black hair and intelligent, dark eyes to match. The sharp, athletic features of his face showed smooth, bronze skin, a color derived from his 'old Biloxi' heritage. It's a mixture of Indian, French, and Spanish. At a little over six feet, his thin physique betrayed the deadly power he possessed. A legend around the waterfront, he was not a man to be trifled with, mentally or physically.

"Jay, what I'm going to show you must be kept in the strictest of confidence." He slid a sheet of paper across the desk toward me. "Sign this document that states you will never divulge the contents of the Renoir Will or the financial status of the estate. It's legal and binding."

"Sure. But the company is open to public scrutiny. Why swear me to secrecy?"

"It's not the company we are concerned with, it's the content of the Will. It is not for public eyes. There are things you will not be allowed to see. Lynn and I will answer those questions that we can after you have perused the material."

Pushing a little, I said, "If I don't see the original documents how can I be sure what's here is the truth? Maybe it's something you concocted?"

"Who the hell do you think you're dealing with?" He exploded furiously, leaping from his chair, muscles in his jaw rippling like waves on an angry sea.

I grinned.

Lynn sat up straight in her chair, a frightened look on her face.

"Ah, Leicester. You had a right." He sat back down, let out a sigh. "I know how long you and Joe have been friends. It was the audacity of the insinuation. I'm sorry."

Bill Moran was a good man, an excellent lawyer. Glossman saw the potential in him as a young lad. He realized Bill was not cut out to lead a life on the ocean as five generations of his family before him. Slowly he worked his way up the ladder and he and Glossman grew close. Glossman had no children and he began to think of Bill as a son. In fact he arranged his affairs such that when he died Bill would take over the company.

The next half-hour was spent reading over the parts of the documents excerpted from Max Renoir's Will. There were the usual business transactions, disbursements to faithful employees, disposal of certain properties, the normal things that occur upon the death of the owner of a company. However, the most interesting and complex part of the Will was the way Renoir set up how he wanted his two daughters to share in the inheritance of the estate.

In essence, Rene was to get nothing, except for a small monthly allowance. If Lynn wanted, she could give Rene a job in the company, but one that would never allow her to advance into management. In other words, she was at the mercy of her sister who was instructed to keep her subservient.

"This will take some time to absorb."

"That's your copy. Don't lose it."

We were through. Lynn, who had said nothing during this exchange, stood, smoothed her skirt, and announced she was having lunch with Glossman.

No one at Glossman Enterprises invited me for lunch. Fisherman's Wharf beckoned with a bowl of the best gumbo this side of the French Quarter. The ten-minute drive from Ocean Springs to the restaurant gave me time to reflect on some of the information in the report. The big question was what could a fourteen-year-old child have done to cause her father to treat her with such severity in his Will? This was important, and it was not going to come from Glossman or Moran. Maybe Lynn? If only I could convince her it may help in finding her sister. Thinking for a moment, I came up with a plan. By leaving my airplane in Gulfport and riding back to Jackson aboard Glossman's jet, I could talk to Lynn, try and explain how important it was to know why Rene's fall from grace with her father was so necessary for me to know. I would call T. Windom, Glossman's Vice-president of Transportation, as soon as I got back to the airport, see if he'd allow a hitchhiker.

Crossing an unguarded train track a few blocks from Glossman's office, I was deep in thought. A fast moving freight train missed me by millimeters. If Guy had not washed his new Jaguar that morning, the train would have hit me. It scared me so that I lost my appetite. Shaking, I drove slowly to his office.

Guy dropped me off at the airport where I called Windom.

"Greetings, Jay. Mr. Glossman said you'd probably call. Come on by and we'll kick over old times."