End Game

CHAPTER 11

On the drive to Bender’s house, Robie read through the copy of the file that Malloy had provided them.

“Not much in here,” he said.

“Not much out here,” replied Reel as she turned down the road that Patti Bender had indicated.

“People like their privacy around here, I guess,” noted Robie.

“Well, I think you’re going to get privacy out here whether you want it or not.”

They rounded a bend. The house that appeared in front of them was large and modern looking, and surrounded by landscaping that mostly involved rock and pebble gravel.

“You don’t have to water rock,” observed Reel.

There were two stone pillars with a gate blocking the entrance into the property.

“I didn’t expect this,” said Reel. “I was thinking a shack on cinderblock.”

She pulled the truck up to the gate and punched a button on the black box mounted on a pole set in the ground.

“Hello?” said the female voice. “Are you Roger’s people?”

Reel glanced at Robie. “Well, there goes our cover for sure.” She said to the box, “Yes, we are.”

The gates opened and she pulled the Yukon toward the front of the house.

As they climbed out of the truck one of the wooden double doors to the house opened and revealed a woman standing there. She was in her sixties, tall and lean, with long, silvery blonde hair that fell loosely to her shoulders. She had on jeans, black boots, a white shirt, and turquoise jewelry on her wrists and around her neck.

“Come on in,” she said pleasantly.

They trooped up onto the porch. Robie held out his hand. “I’m Will Robie, this is Jessica Reel.”

“And I’m Claire Bender. You thirsty?”

“Some water, maybe?” said Robie.

“Coming up.”

They followed her into a large foyer with timbers soaring overhead and forming a cathedral-like dome. The floors were slate; the walls were a combination of wood, stone, and brick. The furnishings were large, looked custom-made, were colorful, and appeared to be relatively new. Original artwork hung on the walls along with some framed family photos.

They trooped to a spacious kitchen with granite counters, stainless steel Viking appliances, and walls of windows giving a view of the rear of her property, which was fenced.

“Beautiful place,” said Reel.

“Thank you. I had it all redone about eighteen months ago. Before that, it didn’t look like this, trust me. It was basically a knockdown.”

She poured them out glasses of water from a freestanding dispenser, then they settled in chairs next to a gas fireplace off the kitchen area.

“We met your daughter and your son,” began Robie.

“Patti already called me. Said you’d be coming by.”

Up close her features were finely wrought, the nose slender and straight, the cheekbones high and hard, the jaw square, and the chin shapely. The eyes were a delicate blue. Based on her being a contemporary of Blue Man, Robie pegged her age at closer to seventy than sixty, yet she could pass for being in her early fifties. She looked like she would be equally at home in a boardroom or astride a horse.

“I guess news of any strangers in town gets around fast,” noted Reel.

She smiled. “Well, it doesn’t have far to go.”

Robie smiled. “Your daughter said pretty much the same thing.”

Claire replied, “I guess I taught her well.”

“And what is it that you do?” asked Reel, looking around the interior.

“I used to do some farming: chickens, turkeys, and crops like soybean, wheat, and oats. But that just kept me out of the poor house, really. No, it was only later on that I hit the mother lode.”

“The lottery?” asked Robie.

“No, medical marijuana. I have six dispensaries across the state and two more opening next year.”

“I take it that’s pretty lucrative?” said Robie.

“It paid for this place. Now, the business is competitive, but it’s not insane like on the recreational side. Prices per pound on the rec side are plunging because of a glut of supply. You can grow as much as you want. And we can’t export from Colorado, of course, and there aren’t enough marijuana users here to make up the difference. Now, on the medical side the law requires that you have to own a dispensary and you have to grow seventy percent of what the dispensary sells. It keeps the production supply side from getting out of whack. And the growth in farmers is on the rec side, not the medical side. So because of that, prices per pound on the medical side are holding up well. And our output is really premium, so we can command about $2,400 per pound, pretty top of the market.”

“You sound like you really know the business,” remarked Robie.

“When I take on something I throw myself into it. So, yes, I’ve educated myself a lot.”

“Do you grow it here?” asked Reel.

“I started out here on this patch of land with a little greenhouse and some cheap lights and not really knowing what I was doing. But I learned quickly, saw where the markets were going, got out of personal-use farming and into the medical side, and expanded from there. We have first-rate equipment, and professional staff, we’re always looking for ways to expand our yield more efficiently, and we have built up a great customer base. And we’ve also expanded into marijuana edibles and cannabis-infused products, too.”

“How’d you get into growing pot?” asked Robie.

“Wasn’t for the money, I can tell you that. At least not initially. I got thrown off a horse, broke a bunch of bones, including my skull, and was in terrible pain for a long time. Only thing that worked was pot. Back then it was illegal, but you could find what you needed. And I started growing some myself. Now, legalization of marijuana in Colorado is a pretty convoluted tale with lots of fits and starts. Used to be if you were a caregiver to someone with chronic pain or illness you could get marijuana with a doctor’s prescription, but you were limited to five patients. Then the courts kicked out that limitation and also left it fuzzy about what the term dispensing actually meant, so medical marijuana dispensers started popping up here, like what was happening in California. Then the Feds announced that enforcement of a state’s medical marijuana programs would be a very low priority, that is, ‘We’re not going to prosecute you.’ Then it was off to the races, at least on the medical side. Later, growing and selling pot recreationally was legalized and the boom was on. But I started doing it because I know how it helped me.” She looked around at her beautiful home. “And it has, in more ways than one.”

Robie and Reel took sips of their water as Claire watched them.

“But you didn’t come to see me to learn about pot in Colorado. This is about Roger.”

“We understand you know him,” said Robie.

“Yes. We go way back.”

“And you’re worried?”

“I wasn’t initially. I just thought he’d gotten called back to DC or something.”

“Why would you think that?” asked Reel.

“Look, I don’t know exactly what Roger does, but I suspect he isn’t selling bananas from a street cart. Even way back we all knew he was going places. And I’ve seen him a lot over the years when he’d come back here. He never talked about work with me. When I asked what he did, he just said he pushed paper across his desk. Once he mentioned having a midlevel job at the State Department or some such.”

“And you didn’t believe him?” asked Reel.

“Roger Walton was the golden boy from Grand, Colorado, small as it is. Football and baseball star. Accepted at half a dozen Ivy League schools. Smartest person I’ve ever been around. And one of the kindest. He could’ve been an insufferable jock type, but he was the exact opposite. Ask anyone who knew him. He helped everybody when he lived here. Even those that didn’t deserve it.”

“Did you know his parents?” asked Reel.

“Of course. What happened was so tragic.”

“What happened to them?” asked Reel.

“Oh, I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” said Reel.

“They apparently had a suicide pact. They were found in their car in their garage. They’d turned on the engine and stuffed the tailpipe.”

“When was this? Recently?”

“Oh, no. It was while Roger still lived here. He was the one to find them. He’d been away at some regional debate championship in Nebraska his senior year of high school. When he got back, well… it was awful.”

“Damn,” said Robie. “Pretty tough situation for a teenager.”

“Pretty tough for any age,” said Reel.

Claire said, “Well, the town rallied around Roger, of course. In fact, he came to live with my family for the rest of the school year.”

“Does anyone know why they killed themselves?” asked Robie.

“Dorothy, Roger’s mom, had ovarian cancer. Late stage. Back then there was nothing to combat it. She was going to die. I don’t think Roger’s dad could live without her.”

Reel frowned. “So he kills himself and leaves his kid alone. If you ask me, that’s kind of selfish.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But Roger didn’t see it that way. He loved his parents. And he survived. He always survived.” She paused. “I’m counting on that right now. For him to survive.” She paused again. “He kept the house. He’s never been back there, as far as I know, but he never sold it, either. I drive by it every once in a while and think about Roger. All he went through at such a young age.”

“That’s very sad,” said Reel wistfully.

“You said you were initially not worried when he disappeared,” prompted Robie with a quick glance at Reel. “What changed?”

Claire said, “When I heard that he’d left everything at the cabin, including his rental. That wasn’t like Roger. He was organized and efficient. If he got called back to DC suddenly he would’ve taken care of all that, or had someone do it for him.”

“Did you see him while he was here this time?”

“Yes. We usually have dinner. And we did. Here. We both cooked.”

“So you have a good relationship?” said Robie.

Claire smiled. “Look, I’m sure one of my kids told you that Roger and I were engaged to be married. Only I didn’t want to leave here and he wanted to get the hell out. Am I right?”

“We did hear that from Patti,” conceded Robie.

“So it wasn’t a question of love. I loved him and he loved me. We just had a difference of opinion on where that love should be located.” She paused and frowned. “Looking back, I can see now why I didn’t want to leave. Back then I was a simple girl with simple ambitions. Roger wanted to see the world, do everything, which scared the crap out of me. Now, look, I’m no dummy. I’ve held my own with some pretty smart people who come through here from time to time, and I have managed to build a pretty successful business. But Roger was on another plane. He was flat-out brilliant. I… I guess I was afraid if I moved with him, I would end up not measuring up and we’d get divorced. And then where would I be? Stuck in a place that would seem like another planet to me.”

Reel studied her. “And do you still think that?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it?”

“But now?” persisted Reel, drawing a curious look from Robie.

Claire said quietly, “I can’t say I don’t have regrets, because I do. But I think we’re past the do-over stage in life.”

Reel said, “But he came back here. And spent time with you. That probably tells you something.”

“What, that maybe he had regrets?”

“He never married, at least to my knowledge,” said Robie.

“I know. Well, water under the bridge.” She looked squarely at them. “Now you need to find out what the hell happened to him.”

Reel said, “We asked your son and Sheriff Malloy if there were any people around here that might be responsible for his disappearance. Malloy was vague on that. What do you say?”

“Every place on earth has bad people, and Grand is no exception to that.”

“Care to be more specific?” asked Robie.

“This is wide-open space, a long way from Denver. You’ve seen the size of the police force. So folks have become accustomed to taking care of themselves.”

“We’ve seen the open-carry lifestyle here,” said Robie. “Including your daughter.”

“She’s very responsible with her weapons,” said Claire defensively. “Now, that’s one side of the equation. The other side is being out in the middle of nowhere attracts some folks who want to live off the radar. And not be, well, constrained by societal norms.”

“What exactly are we talking about?” asked Robie.

“We’ve got some skinheads and white supremacists, though some would say I’m repeating myself. But they more or less keep to themselves.”

“Okay,” said Robie. “What else?”

“Well, we’ve got others who practice their own type of religion. If you want to call it that.”

“What do you call it?”

“You remember the Branch Davidians in Waco? Well, that’s what I would call it. They’ve got their own compound and everything.”

“So why wouldn’t your son and the sheriff tell us about them?”

“Practical reasons. There’re two of them and a whole lot more of the others. Nobody wants a riot. Nobody wants those awful people to take over the town. So it’s an uneasy peace, I’d guess you’d say.”

“You still have the state police if things go sideways,” said Reel.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think the state police want to mess with it, either. Colorado is a big state and there aren’t that many cops to go around, really, especially in a place like Grand.”

“Sounds like a bomb waiting to go off,” said Reel.

“You could say that about a lot of places,” Claire retorted.

“Did Walton know about all of them being here?”

“Oh sure. You come here often enough, they’re pretty hard to miss.”

“Did he ever have any run-ins with them?” asked Reel. “Because he’s not the sort of person who would turn a blind eye if they did something criminal.”

Claire stared down at the floor. “Anything’s possible. So you might have to just go ask them yourself.”