* * *
“What the hell took you so long?” asked Danny as he stood with his arms crossed, not even bothering to display his usual false smile.
“I had some things to take care of,” said Lincoln as he looked around at the newly furnished office space.
Bentley had been busy. The kid must’ve stayed late to build the cubicles and desks. Danny had requested that the office be built to accommodate six full-time employees, and Bentley had done an admirable job, even putting potted plants in the corners and a water cooler against the wall. It looked like any moment there might be employees arriving to sit down and get to work.
Danny didn’t look happy. He was glaring at Lincoln with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. “I had Bentley pull down your site.”
“Why?”
“Because this is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to avoid. That’s why. You’re poking a bear with one hand while holding my picnic basket in the other?”
Lincoln chuckled at the odd analogy. “What?”
“This is exactly what I was worried about. You start digging around into old, closed cases and the cops start getting pissed off. They turn their attention on you, and all of the sudden I’m swimming up shit creek.”
“Don’t worry, the site’s got nothing to do with you. It’s in my name, and they used my credit card to set it up. There’s nothing implicating you. Besides, this is just a test to see how the whole thing works. Once we know the tricks of the trade, Bentley’s going to set up sites for urban legend crap that no police department in their right mind cares about. That way, if the cops ever do decide to come sniffing around, they’re going to come after my case first. I’m putting a big spotlight on myself for a reason. Let them come and start asking questions, and they’ll find out everything’s above boards.”
Danny’s unease was slightly lifted, although he still glared at Lincoln. “I guess that makes sense. But you’re the one who’s going to have to sell it.”
“Sell it to who?”
“Sell it to the people who matter.”
“And who’s that?”
Danny pulled out one of the office chairs that Bentley had ordered, and he sat down heavily in it. His thighs spilled over the edge as he looked up at Lincoln. He crossed his legs as if lounging. “Some of my business associates want a rundown on the plan here. They’re coming by this afternoon, and you’re going to fill them in.”
“I’m not talking shop with a group of drug dealers.”
“They’re not corner hustlers,” said Danny as if the assumption annoyed him. “Do you really think I’m that stupid? Do yourself a favor and don’t answer that. The gentlemen I’ve invited here are legit businessmen. They just happen to have revenue streams coming in that they don’t file with the IRS. Where that money comes from is anyone’s guess. I don’t make it my business to ask them for details, and they don’t feel the need to provide them. We work in… what’s it called? Synchronicity. Our businesses intermingle here and there, but we’re all smart enough not to ask too many questions. Levels of separation and what have you. And like I told you, they’re eager to get a new business up and running that can clean up some of their income.”
“They sound like real upstanding citizens. Why don’t you deal with them?”
“Because you and Bentley are the ones in charge of this, not me.” Danny stood up and checked his watch as if already late for another appointment. “I’m meeting them for lunch over at The Med. We’ll be back here in about an hour. Have something ready for us.” He clapped his fat hand on Bentley’s shoulder before heading for the door. “See you two in an hour. Oh, and don’t mention that you already put the site up live. Let’s let them think we wanted their blessing first.”
Lincoln waved an unenthusiastic goodbye and then looked grimly over at Bentley. “Your uncle’s a dick.”
Bentley laughed, and nodded in agreement before choosing his words carefully, “He can be difficult. Any ideas on how we should prepare for this meeting?”
“Easy. Let’s relaunch the site,” said Lincoln as he went over to one of the computers and started to wiggle the mouse, expecting the monitor to turn on.
“Hector hasn’t hooked these up yet. We’ve been using his laptop for the site. And besides, I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to launch the site again just yet. You heard what he said.”
Lincoln ignored Bentley. He took out his phone and called Hector.
“Bossman,” answered Hector cheerfully. “What can I do for you?”
“Are you busy?”
“Always. No rest for the wicked.”
Lincoln looked across the hall at the office where Hector worked. He could see his IT Manager’s back as the rotund man sat in his cubicle. His left hand was buried in a bag of chips on his desk and there was a videogame on his monitor.
“You’re always busy, huh?” asked Lincoln, enjoying the moment as he watched his employee relaxing.
“There’s always a problem that needs to be fixed around here. You know how it is.”
“Right, sure. I know how it is.” Lincoln nudged Bentley and pointed across the hall at Hector. He hit the speaker button on his phone so that Bentley could listen in. “You’re nothing if not a hard worker, Hector.”
“Thanks, but I’m sure you didn’t call me just to blow smoke up my ass. What’s up?”
“I don’t want to bother you if you’re too busy,” said Lincoln. “Should I call back later?”
“Nah, I can make time for whatever you need, bossman. What’s up?”
“You sure this isn’t a bad time?”
“No worries. What can I do for you?”
“Do me a favor and turn around.”
Hector swiveled in his chair. He saw Lincoln and Bentley watching from across the hall. He flipped them off and gave them with a smarmy grin. “Fuck you very much, buddy.”
Lincoln laughed and said, “I need your help getting the site started. But not if you’re too busy. Don’t let us interrupt that gripping game of solitaire you’ve got going on over there.”
Hector sheepishly closed his laptop and brought it across the hall with him. Lincoln joked about his busy day at work, but when Hector offered an apology Lincoln explained that he wasn’t upset. Everyone slacks off at work from time to time.
Hector went to the IndieStarters site and they reviewed the information that was ready to be republished. After tweaking it a bit, Lincoln decided that it was ready to go. Bentley again voiced his concern about Danny, but Lincoln ignored him.
Lincoln tested the site by sending in a $25 donation, and discovered that it was easy to go through the process anonymously. The key to the money laundering scheme would be for the donor to send in money from offshore accounts, something that the internet made easy. The entire process was simpler than Lincoln anticipated, and he was confident Danny’s business associates would be pleased.
Danny called before returning to make sure Lincoln and Bentley were ready for them. It was lunchtime for Hector and the salespeople working in the other office, so Lincoln decided to meet with Danny’s friends across the hall at the conference table where they would have more room.
Danny came up the stairs with three men following behind. Lincoln was surprised by how normal they looked. He expected them to be mafia stereotypes, but they could easily be mistaken for accountants or lawyers enjoying a day away from the office. Two of them were wearing khaki shorts and polo shirts, as if plucked from the golf course for this meeting. The third man was in a tweed suit with a plaid vest of garish yellow and red, and a matching bowtie. He had thinning hair and a thick goatee that he was obviously dying blonde to feign a youthfulness that his wrinkles betrayed.
Bentley was at the conference table, but not Hector. Lincoln wanted to keep his IT Manager away from Danny and his associates as much as possible. Bentley borrowed Hector’s computer, and had it open on the conference table with the site pulled up, ready for their demonstration.
“Lincoln,” said D
anny as he began the introductions, “this is Paul Vale, Kyle Arteton, and Clyde Pettigrew.”
Lincoln was shaking their hands when something about the third man’s name caught his attention. “Pettigrew,” said Lincoln, trying hard to figure out why that rang a bell. “I feel like I’ve heard your name before.”
“Are you in real estate?” asked the older man in the tweed suit as he smiled politely.
“No.”
“I own and manage a few properties around town.” He gave Lincoln a business card. Lincoln reciprocated, and then exchanged cards with the other two men as well.
Lincoln examined Clyde’s card, and his last name continued to vex him. Why did it sound so familiar?
Pettigrew.
Danny gave a quick introduction about the project and then invited Lincoln to explain further. Lincoln offered a synopsis of what they wanted to set up, and why doing the IndieStarters campaigns was a better process than Danny’s original plan. He kept the explanation vague, and didn’t tell them any of the details about the Kline case. Bentley was seated beside Lincoln, and was about to swivel the laptop for the others to see what they’d been working on.
Lincoln glanced at the site, and saw the map of Trent’s trip from the Boulder Valley mall to the crime scene. It was in that instant that Lincoln’s memory snapped into focus.
Pettigrew!
He grabbed the computer away from Bentley and swiftly closed it, surprising everyone at the table. “Sorry,” he said as he tried to think of a reason for his abrupt action. “It’s just that I want the campaign to look as good as possible before you see it. This one’s not ready. It’s not perfect for…” he looked at Bentley, desperate for help, but the young man didn’t know what was wrong.
Clyde Pettigrew leaned forward and said, “We need to know what we’re getting into here. Our former deal with Mr. Barr fell through, and we need to get a replacement up and running as soon as possible.”
Lincoln nodded, opened the laptop, and then moved the computer so that the screen was facing away from Mr. Pettigrew. He searched the site for Hector’s campaign about the traffic stops in Arizona, and then turned the computer around to show the men gathered.
He continued on, explaining the way to donate money anonymously, and how doing so from an offshore account using Bitcoins would effectively launder any amount of money they wanted. He demonstrated by donating to Hector’s campaign, and they all watched as the site’s counter recorded the money coming in.
The men had a lot more questions, and Lincoln answered the ones he could while explaining that they were going to set up a test campaign before starting the laundering scheme. Pettigrew didn’t like the idea of antagonizing officials, like what Hector was doing in Arizona, so Lincoln explained that their focus would be urban legend cases and nothing that the police would care about. Within a half hour, the men seemed intrigued about the venture but still concerned about its viability. They wanted to see it in action, and Danny agreed to help set up the dummy account to get things rolling.
Soon Danny and his three associates were leaving and the employees who normally occupied the office began to return from lunch. Lincoln headed back across the hall, and Bentley waited until the door was closed behind them before asking, “What was that all about? Are we quitting the Kline case?”
“I realized something that could cause us problems.”
“Like what?”
Lincoln was apprehensive and suspicious of Danny’s nephew. Would Bentley run to his uncle to reveal the news? Lincoln didn’t know if he could trust the kid to stay quiet. “I don’t have much to do with your uncle or his associates. I don’t run in those circles. Do you?”
“No.” Now it was Bentley’s turn be suspicious. “What are you getting at?”
“You know what the people who work with your uncle are involved in. You don’t need me to spell it out for you.”
“What does that have to do with the Kline case?” asked Bentley.
Lincoln set Hector’s laptop down on one of the desks and opened it. He went back to their IndieStarters campaign and scrolled down to a picture of the Boulder Valley Mall. “I think the man we just met, Clyde Pettigrew, the old guy with the goatee… I think he owns this mall.”
“All right,” said Bentley, uncertain why that was anything more than a simple coincidence. “So?”
“I was at the mall yesterday, in the parking lot where Trent said he used to buy pot from Grant Hedland. And guess what was right there above the door.” He didn’t give Bentley a chance to answer. “A security camera.”
Bentley was still confused.
“A security camera that the guard said had been there for at least thirteen years, which means it was there the day that Trent supposedly used that exit to head off and kidnap Betty and Devin.”
“So you’re saying Mr. Pettigrew had something to do with the murders?” asked Bentley as he tried to put the pieces together.
“No, not exactly,” said Lincoln, frustrated that Bentley wasn’t following along. “I’m saying that Trent claimed to be buying drugs in the employee parking lot where a security camera had been shut off. Why would it be shut off? Why would a local dealer know that it would be shut off?”
“Because the dealer…” at first Bentley wasn’t sure where Lincoln was going with the statement, but then he realized the obvious answer. “Because the dealer was working with Mr. Pettigrew.”
“Bingo.”
“Oh fuck,” said Bentley as the ramifications of their investigation shining light on Pettigrew’s illicit business practices came into focus.
“Now you see why I didn’t want them to see the site. The last thing we need is to show Mr. Pettigrew a picture of his own mall.”
“Well crap,” said Bentley. “I guess we’re going to have to scrap the site.”
“What? Are you kidding?”
Bentley thought it was a foregone conclusion that they would have to stop their investigation, and he looked puzzled as he asked, “We’re going to have to, aren’t we?”
“No,” said Lincoln, adamant. “Don’t you know what this means?”
“It means we’re going to piss off a lot of important and powerful people if we keep going,” said Bentley. “Including my uncle.”
“Fuck your uncle. This backs up what Trent said. He couldn’t be the murderer because he was buying drugs at the mall in the exact spot he said he was, where the security guard would turn off the cameras and look the other way. And if Trent didn’t kill those kids, then someone else did. Someone who’s out there right now. Someone who thinks they got away with it.”
“Should we go to the police?”
“No, we can’t,” said Lincoln. “First off, this isn’t enough evidence to warrant them reopening the case. Second, it would require us ratting out Pettigrew. I don’t think that’d win us any new friends. We can’t even put this on the site. At least not yet. Which means you and I are the only people who can solve this. Our next step needs to be finding Grant Hedland and convincing him to tell us the truth. Because, the way I see it, either he lied on the stand about dealing drugs to Trent, or he was in on the murders.”