John Miller - Smoke and Mirrors

“Looks plenty big to me as it is,” Winter said.

“Where’s David Scotoni?” Brad asked.

“At the Best Western with Walters watching him. He wants to get the hell out of Dodge.”

“No problem,” Brad said. “He’s told us everything he knows. Get his phone numbers and escort him to the state line.”

“Sure thing,” Roy said, straightening as a speeding Lincoln Navigator flew past, then made a sweeping U-turn. “Damn,” Brad said. “Go on, Roy. If you need me, use the cell. I don’t want to use the radio with the press all over the place.”

Winter saw a red-faced man in a suit who looked like a newscaster get out of the Navigator and race toward the truck. The man maneuvered around Bishop and looked into the cab.

“Brad,” he said.

“Ed,” Brad said. “I want you to meet Winter Massey. Winter, this is our prosecuting attorney, Ed Moore.”

Moore nodded at Winter. “I had a call from the head of MBI. They want in on these killings now. They said you’re blocking them so they want me to make the request. I wanted to clear it with you as a courtesy before I did it.”

“Don’t need them,” Brad said. “This is proceeding nicely.”

“Two homicides, Brad. Why wouldn’t you need them, for Christ’s sake?”

“That’s why I asked Massey in. He’s a specialist in this sort of thing and has no dog in the fight. Lab assistance is all I need from the MBI for now.”

“Captain Mackey was very insistent,” Moore said.

“He said I’m in over my head, right? They only want in on the Beals killing because it’s tied to a casino employee, and they want to clear it up however they can. We’re already on top of it and it’s staying that way.”

“Damn it, Bradley. If it concerns the casinos…” Moore said nervously.

“Relax, Ed. It concerns an ex-deputy dead guy who worked security at a casino. If you want, you can tell them it was an armed robbery gone bad. We both know that MBI will only come in and make us look bad if they can, to make sure the casino doesn’t get any negative publicity. They’re always working in the casinos’ best interests.”

“That’s not something I know at all,” Moore said defensively.

“Know this. If the MBI comes in, I’ll request the FBI come in and we’ll have us a sharp-elbow sideshow and I can guarantee you that the casinos will get more negative press than they can deal with.”

“Wait a minute,” Ed said. “That’s not something we want. That sounds like a threat.”

“I can make that a promise if you’d feel more comfortable with that. The FBI isn’t coming in unless I request their assistance,” Brad said. “MBI is not going to use my department to wipe the casino’s butt, and they aren’t going to bury anything as long as I’m in this office. If someone from the casino operation is responsible for a murder, that’s just going to be a shit-hits-the-fan deal. Early next week we’ll reevaluate where we are and if I need MBI, I’ll pull them in.”

Moore said, “Your office doesn’t exactly have a sterling reputation around the state. People see the MBI as better suited, less able to…”

“You say ‘be bought off,’ and I’ll climb out and beat your ass right here in the street. I whipped your ass in the fifth grade and I can do it again.”

“I’ve known you all my life, Brad. You don’t have to say shit like that to me.” Moore smiled. “This is still our county. It’s your call.”

“I know it.”

Using the back of his fingers, Ed Moore slapped Brad’s shoulder through the window.

He turned and took a few steps before turning around and coming back. “And, Brad. You didn’t beat my ass in the fifth grade. I slipped and fell.”

Brad pushed open the door, and Ed made a show of hurrying toward the Navigator. His laughter echoed richly in through the window as Brad rolled it up.

“In the fifth grade I whipped old Ed like a redheaded stepchild,” Brad said, winking at Winter. “He’s been in denial ever since.”

The land-transaction records for the county were kept in the basement of city hall. A clerk who looked like a Jessica Tandy impersonator located the plot and its corresponding numbers on a county map and wrote them down. Armed with the scrap of paper, Alexa placed the book the clerk had pointed out on the table, opened it and ran her fingers down the columns, looking for the numbers for the southwest corner of the county.

She found the entry where Jacob Gardner had transferred title of the plot to Leigh nine years before. Checking the adjoining plots, she quickly discovered that a corporation named RRI Limited had systematically purchased the surrounding land over the past eighteen months.

Alexa decided the best way to check out this RRI corporation was to see whether the kind of people who would resort to violence might be connected to it. She dialed an extension at FBI headquarters and asked for Louis Sykes with the Organized Crime division.

“Louis, it’s Alexa. I need a favor.”

“Name it,” he said. “Anything but my peanut butter cookie recipe.”

“Can you check your files for a corporation named RRI Limited? All I have is the name on some land transfers.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll be waiting for your call.”

Alexa put the books back and went outside, where Winter and Brad had just parked. After Winter got out and opened the back door, she climbed into the backseat of Brad’s truck.

“A company named RRI Limited has been buying up the land around Leigh’s parcel.”

“It could be a hunting deal like Jacob told us,” Brad said. “But I wouldn’t believe Jacob if he said tornados scatter dirt. Who’d kill to put together a duck-hunting club?”

“Twenty-nine hundred acres so far,” Alexa said. “I assume that since RRI now owns all of the surrounding land, they’d want Leigh’s. I’m having OC look to see if there are any red flags associated with their name. Then we can look them up on the Internet and I’ve got friends who can get us the pertinent information.”

“I bet Jacob is aware of RRI’s purchase, and thinks he’ll make serious bucks on the deal,” Winter said. “If RRI can’t do whatever they have planned with their land unless they have hers, that’s a motive.”

“If anything happens to Leigh, the kids inherit the land,” Brad said, “but it would be tied up in probate for a long time.”

“Unless a judge sped that up for the right person or group,” Alexa said.

Winter said, “We could check to see if there are plans to improve the roads, deal with utility upgrades, power, sewage, water pipes, that sort of thing.”

“I haven’t heard anything,” Brad said. “Anybody starts pulling permits from the county, people talk. Maybe they’re waiting until they have the land sewed up to start that process.”

Alexa said, “I don’t know, Leigh, but I got the impression that something was eating at her.”

“Like her babysitter getting her head blown off?” Winter said. “Her daughter going AWOL?”

“Just a feeling I’ve got. You know her, Brad. Do you think Leigh is telling us everything? Is it possible that she knows more about the land than she’s letting on?”

“I’ve known Leigh most of my life. She’s a tough cookie and she pinches a dollar until Washington pees his pants, but if you’re insinuating…”

“I’m not casting aspersions on her character,” Alexa said. “But I’ve got a sense there’s things she isn’t telling us. I could be wrong.”

“My mother had this old adage. ‘Have more than you show, pay as you go, and tell less than you know,’” Winter said.

“That sounds like it was written about Leigh,” Brad said.