The Undertaker's Widow (8 page)

“Ben appreciates your meeting with me.”

“He won't be so happy if some reporter sees us here,” Riker snapped. “Let's get this over with.”

Cedric Riker was an arrogant and insecure man
who liked to throw his weight around. He could not afford to antagonize Benjamin Gage, a powerful political ally and a source of campaign funds, but Clark was only an employee. Riker detested Clark with his mysterious ways and intimidating scar, and he was never civil to him. Riker's bullying tactics had no effect on Clark. He despised Riker, but he kept his contempt well hidden because Riker was useful to his boss on occasion.

“We're very worried about the impact of Lamar Hoyt's murder on Ben's campaign,” Clark said.

“You should be. Crease is playing this for all she can get. The press is making her sound like a cross between Joan of Arc and Annie Oakley.”

“Ben understands that there are new developments in the case. He'd like to know what they are.”

“What kind of developments?” Riker asked warily.

“Something to do with Jablonski and some money. Our source wasn't clear.”

Riker was angry. Someone was leaking the details of the Hoyt investigation. Still, if Gage wanted to know, Riker was not going to keep the information from him.

“Jablonski's an ex-con with a history of violence. He just got out of the Oregon State Penitentiary eight months ago. He was serving time for a series of home burglaries in wealthy neighborhoods. In a few cases, he pistol-whipped the victims. He hurt one of them pretty badly. Killing Hoyt would be consistent with his modus operandi. But Lou Anthony's found a few things that don't look right.”

“Such as?”

Riker took a quick and nervous look around the tavern. When he was satisfied that no one was listening, he said, “The search of Jablonski's apartment turned up ten thousand dollars in cash in a shoe box. It was hidden in the bedroom closet. Jablonski may have been paid to make a hit.”

“On Hoyt?”

“Or Crease. Then again, the money and the Hoyt break-in might be unconnected. Except …”

“Yes?” Clark prodded.

Riker leaned across the table and lowered his voice.

“Lou went back to the crime scene with a forensic expert. There's something wrong with the blood.”

“The blood?”

Riker explained what Anthony had told him. When he finished, Clark looked thoughtful.

“What are you planning to do?” he asked.

“I know Ben's losing votes, but I've got to move very slowly. Ben should understand that. Everyone knows that he's one of my supporters. If I go after Crease without the goods, it will hurt both of us.”

Clark nodded. Riker waited for him to say something else. Instead, Clark stood up.

“It would be better if we left separately. I'll let Ben know how helpful you've been.”

Riker watched Clark walk out of the tavern. When the door closed, Riker shuddered involuntarily. He just did not feel right around Gage's A.A. The guy was spooky. A few minutes later, Riker left the Lumberjack. Outside, the rain had let up, but the wind was blowing. Riker hunched his shoulders and walked quickly to his car.

Hoyt Industries corporate headquarters was housed in a three-story, no-frills concrete box a few minutes from the Wilsonville exit on I-5. A parking lot surrounded the building and a field surrounded the parking lot. There were minimal attempts at landscaping. Anthony parked in a spot reserved for visitors. A receptionist sat behind a wide desk in the lobby. Anthony named the person whom he wanted to see. A few minutes later, he was sitting across the desk from Stephen Appling, Hoyt's senior vice-president.

Appling was dressed in a gray, pinstriped Armani suit and a silk Hermès tie. His curly salt-and-pepper hair had been styled and he had a tan in spite of the weather. He seemed the antithesis of someone who would work for a good old boy like Lamar Hoyt. Then, again, anyone as country smart as Hoyt would see the value in hiring a shrewd businessman who would feel at home with blue-blood bankers and wealthy investors.

Anthony noticed several golf trophies on a low credenza behind Appling's desk and a framed Wharton M.B.A. next to several photographs of Appling playing golf with various celebrities.

“Is that Michael Jordan?” Anthony asked.

Appling smiled. “Hoyt Industries hosts a celebrity golf tournament every year to raise money for charity.”

“Did you play with Jordan?”

“No. I played with Gerald Ford that time. I did get in a round with Michael at Pebble Beach, though. We were trying to recruit him for an endorsement contract. It didn't work out.”

Anthony's brow furrowed. “What product was Jordan supposed to endorse? Not the mortuary business?”

Appling threw his head back and laughed.

“No, Detective, not the mortuaries. Actually, the funeral parlors were only a small part of Lamar's financial interests. Hoyt Industries owns a company that manufactures supplies for funeral homes nationally, a trucking company and Modern Screen Theaters.”

“That's Hoyt Industries?”

Appling nodded. “We operate eighty percent of the movie theaters in Oregon, Washington and Idaho and we're expanding into northern California. We were talking to Michael about being a spokesman for the theaters.”

“So this is a big operation.”

Appling smiled sadly. “Lamar liked to come across as a hick, but he was anything but. His business expertise rivaled that of any of the M.B.A.'s he employed, yours truly included, even though he never graduated from high school. He is sorely missed around here.”

“Who's running the company now that Mr. Hoyt is dead?”

“I'm the interim president, but the Board of Directors is going to have to select a permanent president.”

“Is Senator Crease going to inherit her husband's stock?”

“You'll have to talk to Charles DePaul, Lamar's lawyer, about that.”

“If she does inherit Mr. Hoyt's shares, will that give her a controlling interest in the company?”

“Yes,” Appling responded. Anthony noticed that he was not smiling now.

“So she'll have a big say in how the company runs.”

“If she wants to, no one can stop her.”

“You don't seem happy about that.”

“I'm sure that Senator Crease will do what is best for the company.”

“But you're not certain?”

“Is this just between us, Detective?”

“Sure, if that's how you want it.”

“Ellen Crease is a … how shall I say this? Headstrong is a good description. She has her own opinions about how to do things. Once those opinions are formed, it is difficult to change them. Unfortunately, the senator's views on how to run this company are not based on a background in business.”

“You don't think she's competent to head up Hoyt Industries?”

“Don't get me wrong. I have the highest respect for the senator's intelligence, and I think she believes that she is capable of running Hoyt Industries. I'm not convinced, though.”

“Who would profit if the senator had been murdered along with her husband?”

“You mean with regards to the company?”

Anthony nodded.

“I guess Junior, if he inherited.”

“Could he run Hoyt Industries?”

“Off the record again?”

“Yes.”

“Junior is a fool and a spendthrift. He would bankrupt this company.”

“So you don't think Mr. Hoyt contemplated any part in running the company for his son?”

“I'm certain of it. They weren't even on good terms personally. In fact, shortly before his death, Lamar and Junior had a yelling match right here.”

“About what?”

“I don't know. Lamar wouldn't talk about it. I just caught the tail end. I was walking over to Lamar's office when his door burst open and Junior came storming out. He almost knocked me down. Junior looked furious. When I went into Lamar's office, he was just as angry.”

“Mr. Appling, can you think of anyone who would want Mr. Hoyt dead?”

“No, and I have thought about it. We have union problems with the trucking concern, of course, and there are employees that we've had to let go, but that's just grasping at straws. If you're looking for serious suspects, I can't give you any.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Appling,” Anthony said as he stood up. He placed a card on the vice-president's desk. “If you think of anything else, please give me a call.”

Charles DePaul's office was not as grandiose as Anthony had expected the office of a senior partner in a major law firm to be. It was sparsely furnished and functional. DePaul's desk was almost bare. There was an antique reading lamp, some correspondence neatly stacked under a glass paperweight, a picture of DePaul's wife and three daughters and a single file sitting squarely in the center of the desk. DePaul was as unimposing as his office, a short, balding, slightly overweight man who looked nothing like the image suggested by his reputation in the Oregon Bar.

“You said on the phone that you wanted to discuss the terms of Lamar's will. Can you tell me why?”

“This is confidential information, Mr. DePaul. So let me ask you first, who is your client?”

“Lamar Hoyt, Sr.”

“Not Ellen Crease?”

“No, sir.”

“Mr. DePaul, I need your promise that what is said here will not be repeated.”

“You can trust my discretion.”

“There is a possibility that the break-in at the Hoyt estate was more than a burglary. The man who Broke in may have been paid to kill Mr. Hoyt, his wife or both of them. If Mr. Hoyt was the intended victim then I need to know who gains by his death …”

“And the beneficiary of the will is an obvious suspect,” DePaul said, completing the detective's thought.

“Exactly.”

“Aside from bequests to a few charities, Mr. Allen and some of the employees at Hoyt Industries, the major beneficiaries were Ellen Crease and Lamar's only child, Lamar, Jr. Senator Crease inherited the bulk of the estate. That would be the house, the controlling shares in Hoyt Industries and a number of other bequests.”

“And his son?”

“Lamar left Junior the mortuary business, a quarter of a million dollars in cash and a home in the mountains. Junior is an avid skier.”

Anthony remembered the incident with Lamar, Jr., at the mansion and asked, “How did Mr. Hoyt react when the will was read?”

DePaul shook his head with disapproval. “Junior caused quite a scene. He threatened to contest everything, then he stormed out after flinging a few choice words at Senator Crease.”

“Inheriting a quarter million dollars and a going business would make my day. What was bothering Junior?”

“The amount that he left to his son was a very
small bequest when you consider that Lamar's estate is worth twenty million dollars.”

“Why didn't he leave Junior more?”

DePaul considered the question for a moment before answering. “Junior is not an idiot but he's lazy and irresponsible. He's been able to run the mortuaries, but Lamar had to keep a close eye on the business. I believe that Lamar wanted to give Junior an incentive to work hard. He didn't want to leave him penniless, but he was afraid that Junior would not work at all if he had too much money.”

“He obviously didn't feel that way about his wife.”

DePaul hesitated. “Detective Anthony, I don't know if I should be telling you this, but Lamar and I go way back. If there is something amiss … well, I just want to make sure that you're fully informed. Shortly before his death, Lamar discussed the possibility of changing his will.”

“In what way?”

“He didn't say specifically, but I had the impression that he was going to change his bequests to his wife and son dramatically.”

“How?”

“He never came right out and said what he planned to do, but I believe that their stake in his estate would have been drastically diminished.”

“So Senator Crease and Junior benefited when Mr. Hoyt was killed before the will was changed?”

“Yes. Senator Crease in particular.”

DePaul paused. He looked troubled, as if a new thought had just occurred to him.

“Of course, if Ellen was involved in Lamar's murder, Junior would inherit her share.”

“Why is that?”

“The law forbids a person to profit from a will if they cause the death of the person who made it.”