C. Box - Cold Wind

Joe shook his head, confused. “But Rope the Wind. ”

“One guy actually showed some interest for a while, but he was just an ignorant rancher and he couldn’t make a decision. He strung me along for months and then he stopped taking my calls. I hadn’t heard anything from him for a couple of years and then he calls me a few weeks ago out of the blue and said he wished he would have done it. He tells me he was sick and going over what he’d done in his life and he realized not pulling the trigger on the wind project had been a mistake. Now he realizes, the dumb son-of-a-bitch.”

Joe asked, “Was his name Bob Lee?”

Smith shook his head. “I remember Bob Lee. He wasn’t interested at the time and told me to get the hell off his property.”

“Who was it?” Joe asked.

“His name was Bud,” Smith said. “Longstreet, or something like that.”

“Bud Longbrake?”

“That sounds right.”

Joe just shook his head. “Where was he calling you from?”

Smith waved Joe off. He said, “It was Calvin Coolidge who said the business of America is business. You ever heard that?”

Joe nodded.

“Not anymore,” Smith said. “It’s a thing of the past. That’s what I found out when I took my concept out on the road. Nobody wants to take a risk or work hard. Nobody wants to own a business anymore because if they succeed they become a target of the politicians. Everybody’s sitting back, scared, keeping their head down and waiting it out until the storm passes. If it ever does.”

“So,” Joe said, trying to get Smith to refocus. “No one was interested in investing in your companies?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Smith said, annoyed.

“So why not do it yourself?” Joe asked. “Why not use Rope the Wind yourself? Or why not start your own business and provide something people want to buy? You seem to have a gift for all this stuff.”

Smith simply glared at him. He said, “Don’t be so simpleminded. Where have you been? That’s for suckers. That’s not how people make money these days. Owning a company is for suckers. Employing people is for idiots. Making money in the free market means you’re a douche bag ripe for plucking.”

Joe sat back, confused.

Smith said, “Today it’s about winners and losers, determined by folks in Washington. The winners-God bless ’em-are cleaning house. If you’re a winner, you get the money funneled to you and you can’t fail. And if you do fail, they’ll bail you out. But if you’re a loser, well, you end up in the hoosegow wasting your time talking with a damn game warden.”

“Bud Longbrake,” Joe said. “The one who told you he’s sick? Where did you say he was calling from?”

After the questions and answers continued throughout the morning-Earl Alden came up in a lot of them-Joe excused himself by asking Orin Smith to “hold that thought.”

Joe found Chuck Coon in the hallway where he’d been observing the interview from a stool.

“Can I borrow a legal pad or something from you?” Joe asked. “I filled up my notebook.”

“I’ve never heard him talk so much,” Coon said, shaking his head. “You’re actually pretty good at this.”

“He’s proud of his achievements,” Joe said. “He wants someone to know about them. He’s kind of a twisted genius in his way and he’s done a lot, and it frustrates him that all anyone asks him about is the Ponzi scheme that brought him down.”

“Are you getting what you need?”

Joe rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. “More than I bargained for,” he said.

“This Earl Alden he keeps talking about,” Coon said. “He’s your murdered father-in-law?”

Joe nodded.

“I heard about that. Man, he really hated that guy.”

“Nearly as much as the secretary of state,” Joe said. “Were you aware of what he was saying, that it used to be legal in Wyoming to register companies by the dozen?”

Coon nodded. “Yeah. That’s how Orin Smith got on our radar in the first place a few years ago. We kicked it over to the state since it was a state issue, but, yeah, we were aware of it.”

Joe whistled. “This is going a direction I didn’t anticipate.”

“I take it you know this Bud Longbrake fellow?”

“My ex-father-in-law.”

“Quite a family you’ve got.” Coon whistled. “Let me get you a pad. But keep in mind Smith has a hearing this afternoon. You’ll need to wrap it up after lunch. Speaking of. ”

“Thanks,” Joe growled, “but I’m not hungry.”

“Okay,” Joe said, reentering the interrogation room with a fresh yellow legal pad. “You were starting to tell me about your connection with the wind turbine remanufacturer in Texas.”

At first, Joe didn’t pay any attention to the rapping at the interrogation room door. He was busy scribbling, and trying to process what he was being told by Orin Smith. Finally, Smith quit talking and chinned behind Joe.

Coon and a U.S. marshal stood there. The marshal said, “Mr. Smith has an appointment upstairs before the judge.”

“I think I’m through with him,” Joe said. He thanked Coon for the opportunity and shook hands with Orin Smith as the marshal escorted him out of the room.

“I appreciate your cooperation,” Joe said.

Smith nodded. “Just make sure to put in that good word-and to let Gov Spence know.”

“I will.”

As Smith left the room, he paused and turned. To Joe, he said, “If you get the son-of-a-bitch who did it, give him a big wet kiss from me.”

Joe nodded that he understood.

Joe sat in his pickup outside the Federal Building and flipped through page after page of notes, rereading his shorthand and committing names, dates, and the players to memory. He shook his head and absently stared at his cell phone display. Marybeth had called twice but hadn’t left messages. Her single text read, “Is everything all right? Call when you’re able.”

She answered on the second ring. He could tell from the hush in her voice that she was working behind the desk at the library and couldn’t talk long.

“Joe-what’s going on?”

“It’s complicated,” he said. “I’m sorting it all out in my mind and it’ll take a while to get it straight. But I hope you’re sitting down.”

“I am. Just tell me one thing. Do you know who killed The Earl?”

“No,” Joe said. “But the list of people who wanted him dead just got real, real long. That’s if we can trust what this guy Orin Smith just told me.”

He filled her in and she listened without comment. When he was through, she said, “Earl was a real son-of-a-bitch, wasn’t he?”

“Seems like it. And if all this is true, everybody needs to rethink this whole trial.”

Marybeth said, “Do you think Dulcie will drop the charges?”

“I doubt it,” Joe said. “That would be too much to ask at this point. But she may want to ask for a delay in the trial so she can investigate this.”

“My mother. ” Marybeth said with a sigh. “She’s going to be rewarded for her bad behavior. Again. ”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Joe said. “Nothing may work out like we think it will. For the time being, we need to let everyone know what Orin Smith claims. If you’ll call Marcus Hand and tell him what I found out, I’ll call Dulcie Schalk.”

Marybeth paused. “Why both sides?”

Joe said, “Because, don’t forget-I’m an officer of the law. I took an oath. I stretch it from time to time, but there’s no way we can’t inform both parties what we know.”

“Is it that?” Marybeth asked. “Or are you playing both sides against the middle?”

“Maybe a little of that, too,” Joe admitted.