Stay At Home Dad 03-Father Knows Death (13 page)

“In real estate?”

“No, in an investigations service. And we’re looking into George Spellman’s death.”

The smile was now dimming by the second as he overplayed the confused expression. “Who is George Spellman?”

“The guy you knocked out at the fairgrounds a few weeks ago,” I said.

And just like that, Corey Stewart’s smile was gone.

30

“First,” Corey Stewart said, pointing at me, “I don’t appreciate being brought here under false pretenses.”

Neither Victor nor I said anything.

“Two, that guy grabbed me and when he wouldn’t let go, I pushed him and he smacked his own head on a rock on the way down,” he said, looking back and forth between us. “He grabbed me first and wouldn’t let go. I was defending myself more than anything.”

I looked at Victor, but he was staring at Corey.

“And, three, I had no idea the guy was dead and if you’re insinuating that I had something to do with his death,” he said, his hand shaking a bit, “well, screw you.”

“Nobody was insinuating anything,” Victor said, frowning. “Just keep your pants on.”

“I was told you punched George,” I said.

“Well, that’s crap,” he said, his face pinching together. “I’ve never punched anybody in my life. He grabbed my arm, and he wouldn’t let go. I told him like three times to let go and he wouldn’t. I tried to shake free, but I couldn’t. So I pushed him away. He tripped and fell backward and banged his head.” He frowned. “Yeah, I left him there. But he was breathing, he was sort of mumbling, and he wasn’t bleeding. He was fine. I didn’t do anything to him.”

“Why was he grabbing your arm?” I asked.

He shoved the iPad back in his bag. “He said I didn’t belong there.”

“Did you?”

He zipped up the bag with a flourish. “Look, man. I was just doing my job. I was surveying, mapping, and measuring. That was it. I had permission to be there, but that guy didn’t believe me.”

His story was different from the one Matilda had told me, but not completely. He was speaking pretty clearly and forcefully, though. Didn’t seem like he was lying to me. I’d been fooled before, but he was coming off as pretty honest.

“Someone hired you to analyze the fairgrounds?” Victor asked. “To see if you guys could do your fracking thing there?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“Who hired you?” I asked.

“I don’t have to tell you that. I’m not required to divulge who I work with, to anyone.”

“And I don’t have to tell the local police I think you’re lying, but I might,” I said.

Victor grinned, clearly pleased at my interrogation technique.

Corey’s cheeks flushed pink. “I’m not lying.”

“I didn’t say you were,” I said. “I said I might tell the police I think you are, so they can kinda mess up your life a little. And maybe embarrass your company a little bit. That probably doesn’t sound like fun, though, does it?”

His hands balled into fists on his khaki-covered thighs. “Okay. I was hired by the owner of the fairgrounds to explore the possibility of drilling on-site there.”

“The county hired you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The county doesn’t own the fairgrounds,” Corey replied.

“Who does?”

“I don’t have to tell you that.”

Victor reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. “You got another one of them business cards, Corey? I’d like to call your boss and let him know there might be an investigation that you’re gonna be involved in.”

Corey’s cheeks flushed again and he ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. He was contemplating cracking, but wasn’t completely there yet.

We waited him out and the crack took hold.

“I’m not supposed to divulge this,” he said. “Our client asked for complete privacy and I said we would honor that.”

Victor rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure, kid. Whatever. Who owns the fairgrounds? Or give me the card. Now.”

Corey Stewart’s mouth set in a grim line for a moment and resignation settled into his features. “A woman named Marjorie Biggs.”

Aka Mama Biggs.

31

“Mama Biggs
owns
the fairgrounds?” I asked, not believing it even as I said it.

Corey Stewart stood, sensing that he’d delivered some very unexpected news. “I’m gonna go.”

“Sit down, dude,” Victor said, waving the phone at him. “We’re not done yet.”

Corey sighed and sat back down.

“She actually owns the fairgrounds?” I asked again. “You verified that?”

“Of course I verified it,” Corey said, annoyed. “No way I’d spend all that time surveying a piece of land that size without making sure I was dealing with the owner.”

“How long has she owned it?” I asked.

“No idea. I just needed to verify current ownership and she is the current, sole owner of all of that land that we are looking at.”

“Did Spellman know that?” Victor asked. “Is that why you and he tangled?”

Corey shrugged. “Not that I know of. He never said a word about it and I sure as heck didn’t say anything about it. He just wanted me to leave the grounds. But she’d given me permission to do the preliminary work. She just asked that I do it early in the morning before anyone got there.” He shrugged again. “He wasn’t supposed to be there.”

That fell in line with what Matilda had told me. I wondered if she or George had just exaggerated what went down during George’s confrontation with Corey. Corey was definitely miffed about talking to us, but I still didn’t get the sense that he was lying to us about anything.

“So she is exploring the possibility of having you drill on the fairground land?” I asked.

He shook his head. “She’s not exploring. It’s a done deal.”

“A done deal?”

“We signed the paperwork last week,” Corey said, nodding, gaining some of his confidence back. “Biggest deal I’ve ever closed. Couple more like that and I’ll be able to
buy
the Dodgers.”

“So then what happens?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you own the land? How does it work?”

He shook his head. “No, we lease the land, just like we would here. We explore. We drill. We get into the shale to harness the gas.”

“For how long?”

“Every lease is different,” he said. “Size of that land, lease will run for about two years. It takes a lot of time. Now, your property? Be more like six months.”

Two years. Meaning the fair wouldn’t be held there and she’d need another place to put it. Which explained her interest in the parcel of land my father told me about. It didn’t tell us a whole lot about George Spellman, but it did answer some of my questions about the fair.

“So she hasn’t sold it,” I said, clarifying. “She’s just giving you the right to drill on it.”

“Yep. That’s how it works.”

“Does she get a share of the profits?”

“Nope. When you lease, you lease up front and give up your rights to anything we find on the property,” Corey said. “That number that caught you off-guard? I wasn’t kidding. It really is more than fair. But whatever we are able to take from beneath your property is ours after you lease the rights to us.”

“Is the land usable during the process?”

“Depends,” he said. “Here? Sure, your backyard would be okay. We’d use a small crew and it would be pretty unobtrusive. There would be days when it wouldn’t be, but most of the time, it would be okay.”

“Yeah, except for all the crap you’d drop into the water supply,” Victor said, raising an eyebrow.

Corey rolled his eyes. “Our process is safe and environmentally sound.”

“So was Chernobyl.”

“That makes no sense.”

Victor waved a small hand at him. “Whatever, Slick.”

Corey turned his attention back to me. “So, here, it would be a minor inconvenience. But there? Our process will be pretty extensive due to the excessive amount of shale beneath the surface. It won’t be usable until we’re done with it.”

“So the fair couldn’t be held there next April?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No way. Nothing will be able to be held there. It’ll be in full swing at that point. But she said she had a lead on another location.” He shrugged. “Sounds like she’s got it all figured out.”

It sure did.

32

Victor waved a BBQ-slathered rib in the air. “This town is insane.”

Julianne and Carly had already finished their food and were inside, getting Carly ready for their girls’ night at the fair. Victor and I were polishing off the remainder of the ribs, hashing over our meeting with Corey Stewart.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said, finishing my last rib and the rest of my beer. “I’ve lived here my entire life.”

“I mean, you guys are really nuts,” he said, shaking his round head. “It’s like Fantasyland crossed with Oz here.”

I nodded. He wasn’t entirely wrong. Rose Petal wouldn’t have been Rose Petal without some sort of insane drama playing out.

“So here’s my question,” Victor said, wiping his hands on a napkin. “What exactly did George Spellman know?”

I thought for a moment. “The only thing we know for sure is that he ran into Stewart on the fairgrounds that morning. That’s the only certainty we have and, even with that, we have two different accounts.”

“I believe the sales guy,” Victor said, grabbing his beer. “Yeah, he’s kind of a dipstick, but I think his story makes sense.”

“Why?”

“If Spellman got punched, like the other broad said, wouldn’t other people have noticed? Wouldn’t there have been a black eye or something like that?”

That made sense. “I suppose.”

“So I think this dude went to the fairgrounds to do his measuring or whatever it is he does, and Spellman surprised him. Spellman got all indignant about his being there, got a little handsy, and got knocked down,” Victor said, drinking the beer, then setting the bottle down. “And I don’t think Stewart told him squat about the land deal.”

“Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t seem the type,” Victor answered. “That guy cares about one thing. Commission. No way he would’ve fouled up a big old deal like that by giving away details that he was supposed to keep to himself.”

“But he just gave them away to us.”

“Because we threatened him,” Victor said with a smile. “And because we are scary and intimidating.”

“Right.”

“But Spellman could’ve easily made the jump,” Victor continued. “A guy from that company, surveying the grounds. He could’ve put two and two together to figure out that something was cooking.”

I pushed my plate away. “So maybe that’s what he was talking about when he told that group that he knew something.”

“Those tree-huggers? C.A.K.E.?”

“Yeah. He told them something was happening, that he needed to find out more. So maybe he has the fight with Stewart and realizes what’s going on.”

“And then he tells his girlfriend he went to the old bag, she tells him not to worry about it, he says he’s going to go to the board meeting and make it public and—boom,” Victor said, raising an eyebrow. “He’s dead.”

I nodded. It all fit together and definitely seemed connected. Somebody didn’t want George letting people know about what was going down in Rose Petal. And it all sort of pointed squarely at one person.

33

“Find any more dead bodies?” Tom asked as he dealt the first hand.

After the ribs, Victor and I made plans to meet the following day at the fair. The girls headed off to their evening of fun and, as it was the last Friday of the month, that meant I was off to my monthly dorky dads poker night. Yes, it was fair week and everyone was busy, but some things were too important to mess with. The fact that each of us had quickly responded to Tom’s e-mail, saying we were available, told me that everyone needed a night away from the fair and their families as much as I did.

“Not yet,” I said, fanning through the cards he dealt me and frowning. “But I might kill
you
if these are the kind of cards I’m gonna see all night.”

He chuckled.

“Do we have a plan in place in case your wife decides to have the baby tonight?” Paul asked from across the table, his eyes on his cards.

“A plan?” I asked. “Yeah. I’ll tear out of here and get her to the hospital.”

Jeff rubbed his chin. “Hmm. We’ll just hold onto your money, then, until you get back.”

“Or, we could play for you,” Brandon suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“I like that,” Mark said. “That works. A chance for you to earn while you’re gone.”

“We’ll use your winnings to buy the baby a gift,” Raphael suggested as he tossed several chips into the middle of the table.

“Somehow, I think I might lose,” I said. “So. No. My money goes with me.”

“Chicken,” Tom said.

“Cluck, cluck,” I said. “Bet.”

There was comfort in knowing that once a month, no matter what was going on in my life, I could jump out of the day and sit down with friends for cards, beer, crappy food, and friendly harassment. It was like I’d never left college and we’d never grown up.

“I heard your dad talking about an offer he got from the drilling business,” Paul said, tossing several of his chips into the pile.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“He gonna take it?”

“I don’t think so.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “No?”

I shook my head.

“I heard the money’s good,” he said.

“It is,” I said. “But I don’t think he wants them digging.”

“Couldn’t pay me enough,” Brandon said, shaking his head and tossing his cards on the table. “It isn’t safe.”

Mark tossed his chips in. “Money is always safe.”

“Not the money. The fracking.”

Jeff made a face. “Oh, please. You’re a hippy tree-hugger. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Tell me that after you have a three-headed baby,” Brandon said, folding his arms across his chest.

“He’s already been neutered,” Tom said. “No chance of any-headed babies.”

“I heard the remnants go right into the water tables,” Raphael said, laying his cards down and folding. “Chemicals. Dirty water. Rock fragments.”

Paul scowled. “Please. The process has been around forever and it’s only gotten safer. It’s safer than drilling for oil.”