Chapter 35
As she came into the room, I stood up to greet Corinne Simpson,.
“How do you do, Mr. Tucker, Walter has told me quite a lot about you.”
She was tall and slim, wearing black pants and a white blouse with long sleeves. Her hair was still blonde, though I suspected she used some form of chemical enhancement. I could tell there had been other enhancements as well. She was no stranger to cosmetic surgery. She had a Barbie doll body that didn’t match her age, and her face had the stiff, sort of polished look which comes from too much time under the knife. Her eyebrows were tattooed. Either as a result of the surgeries or the application of Botox, she was unable to show any facial expression. The whole effect was like talking to someone who was wearing a mask.
But then, we all wear masks, don’t we?
“I’m pleased to meet you, Ma’am.”
She extended her hand and when I took it, it was as cold as ice.
“Mr. Simpson, I believe I’ll take that drink now.” I said.
He chuckled and pointed to an assortment of bottles on a shelf next to the fireplace. There was glassware stacked behind them.
“There’s an ice maker in the cabinet down there, help yourself.”
“Can I get you anything, Mrs. Simpson?” I offered.
I figured Henry, the butler, wasn’t going to be joining us.
“I guess about two fingers of Bourbon won’t kill me.” She replied
“…On the rocks?”
“No, neat is fine.”
Soon, we were seated and settled down to discuss the matter at hand.
“Corinne, this fella is like a badger, once he takes a hold of something, he just won’t let go of it.”
“So I’m told,” she smiled, coldly.
“Mr. Simpson I have a lot of questions...” I started.
“Yep, I expect you do. First, let me ask you one.” Ted Simpson interrupted.
I nodded and simply said, “OK.”.
“Why the hell didn’t you just go away and leave us alone. I figured writing you a check and telling you ‘good bye’ would settle the matter.”
I considered how to respond.
“I intended to, but Walter wouldn’t leave me alone.”
They looked at each other, and Mr. Simpson sighed.
“Now it’s my turn. Why did you hire me to run a background check on you?” I asked.
“I told you, I’m about to make a run at the Governorship. Corinne suggested it would be a good idea to see what kind of a mess our opposition might be able to stir up.”
“OK, but why me, there are plenty of other agencies with better resources?”
“Walter recommended you. He wanted to do it himself, but he realized he already knew everything that might be pertinent. We needed a disinterested third party. So he suggested you.”
I still wondered why he had picked me, instead of a bigger firm.
“Did he say why?”
“Not really, just that he had heard you were thorough. He was right, you are thorough.” He observed.
“Why does Walter have the last name Farley? Does it have something to do with your absence from college for part of a semester?”
Mr. Simpson got red in the face.
“Damn, boy, you seem to know all the answers. Why ask the question?”
I looked at Mrs. Simpson.
“Ted left school, because he needed to deal with aspects of a little indiscretion in his youthful life. He had fathered a child with an underage girl. Ted was in love with her and wanted to marry her, but his father wouldn’t permit it. Ted actually left school to sneak off to be with her, when the baby was born. She had the baby and then her parents threatened to expose the situation to the media and the authorities. Ted’s father handled the matter by bribing the young woman’s family to keep quiet. Ted returned to college the next semester. He continued to support Ms. Farley and their son, often visiting them, even after he and I were married.”
I nodded. “Yeah, when I finally talked to your college room-mate, he told me part of the story. I didn’t know the girl’s name, and I didn’t know Walter was that baby.”
I thought of another question.
“Mr Simpson, why didn’t you marry the girl, when she came of age?”
“I was already married, to Corinne.”
I thought about what I had just learned. How young had the Farley girl been?
“Ted’s father felt I would be a more suitable choice for Ted,” Mrs. Simpson added.
“Yeah, and I learned real quick, he was right about that,” Ted Simpson said, winking at Corinne.
“Mrs. Simpson, you said Walter is ‘our’ son. How did you come to think of him as your son?”
“We…that is to say I, am unable to have children. Walter’s mother was killed in an automobile accident when Walter was eleven. He came to live with us. He’s the closest thing to a son I will ever have.”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand. Are you aware that Walter has some mental health issues?”
She smiled sadly. “Mr. Tucker, Walter is a sociopath. He is the most damaged and dangerous person I have ever known.”
Mr. Simpson reached over and took his wife’s hand.
“Well, there you have it, boy. You got to the bottom of the story.” He said.
“Mr. Simpson, Walter is your biggest liability. It appears he stole the technical specs for your horizontal drilling and fracturing from a competing company. You funded a business for him and he ran it into the ground. He’s trying to get back on top, and he sees me as his competition. Over the last several months, he’s bugged my office, planted a transponder on my truck, sent men to follow me, and generally interfered with me, on several levels.”
“Well, I’m real sorry about your luck. He’s just like you in that way, he won’t let go once he gets a bite.”
“Let me be clear. If you run for political office, it will all come out. Walter is headed for self-destruction, and he may very well pull you down with him.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I see that. I was hopeful all this would blow over. It’s not his fault, you know? He can’t help it. He’s real smart, did great in school. Smarts ain’t the problem. He’s got a screw loose. I was hoping some time spent in the military would help him learn some self-discipline, but it didn’t help. He came out even more twisted.”
Simpson stopped to take a deep pull on his Scotch. Then he started talking again.
“Walter got the job up in Oklahoma, because I recommended him. I didn’t know he was going to steal proprietary information. I’ve tried to help him and get help for him, but he can’t be controlled. I set him up with his own business, because I knew he could never run Simpson Oil and Gas. I’ll see he’s taken care of, but he’ll never control any part of the company. The stockholders must come first.”
I noticed his last word had sounded like “firshht,” because the single malt was kicking in.
We sat in silence for a moment.
“Why did you offer me the job as your head of security? Walter has his people providing security for you.”
He shook his head. “Walter’s boys, the ones he has left, are basically just body guards. I don’t really need them. I need cyber security and overall corporate security, to manage all aspects of our corporate risk. I figured you were better qualified.”
“What made you think Walter would have tolerated that?”
“Hell, boy, do you think I give a flying fig about Walter’s personal pride. I run one of the largest and most successful independent oil and gas E&P companies in the United States. We have a board of directors, with me as the Chairman of the Board and CEO, to make decisions about the future of our company. I didn’t know Walter was going to fixate on you as his personal enemy, but since he did, you can consider the offer withdrawn.”
I could tell he was more than a little bit drunk.
“Well, where do we go from here?” I asked.
“We??
?re going to bed. You can go on home, or go to hell, for all I care,” he slurred.
I nodded and stood up.
“There’s one other thing I think you should be aware of. You know about the investigation into the murder of Edward Nordstrom, the man who worked for Walter. I’m quite sure Walter killed him, or he had it done. And, I’m pretty sure he sent a man to kill me, earlier this year. I tell you this to let you know how desperate he is. This is not going to end well for him.”
“Get the hell out of my house,” Mr. Simpson spat. “And, I’d watch my back if I were you.”
“You’ll have to excuse my husband’s manners, Mr. Tucker. He’s just upset his political ambitions may not be realized,” Mrs. Simpson said, as she stood up to show me to the door. “He’s rather used to getting what he wants.”
“Yes,” I said, looking down at Mr. Simpson, where he sat slumped in the big arm chair. “And ‘the apple don’t fall far from the tree’.”