The Guilty

Chapter 54

Bobby Wendell looked up at the pair.

“I don’t usually encourage visitors without an appointment.”

Robie and Reel were in the palatial Gulf Coast retreat of the Wendell family that looked more like a Ritz-Carlton resort than an individual home.

The rich weren’t just unlike other people — they apparently lived on an entirely different planet.

“And yet here we are,” said Robie.

“Well, your communication was…provocative.”

Bobby Wendell was taller than Robie, lean with longish graying hair and a slab of rock for a chin. His dark green, penetrating eyes held on the pair as he sat on a couch with sweeping views of the water.

Robie and Reel had been escorted in by beefy security when they had sent in a four-word message at the front gate of the estate.

Your father in pictures.

“Yes, it was. Intentionally so.”

Without waiting for an invitation Robie sat across from Wendell.

Reel remained standing. They had left their weapons in the car, because they figured they would be confiscated. But the security guards weren’t that good on the pat-down at the gate.

They had missed things.

A blade inside Robie’s belt.

And a garrote wire hidden in Reel’s sleeve.

“And why was that?”

“Dead guys back at a swamp in Cantrell.”

Wendell shrugged. “So? What does that have to do with me?”

“If they were working for you it has everything to do with you.”

“I have lots of people who work for me. But no one who’s dead.”

Robie said, “I figured you’d say that. So let’s get to the pictures. Unless you want us to leave now?”

“I’m listening.”

“We talked to Pete.”

“Pete who?”

“Nice one,” said Reel.

Wendell glanced up at her. “You look very serious. Very professional.”

“Then looks aren’t deceiving.”

Wendell glanced back at Robie.

“Pictures?”

“Your father. And his young friends.”

Wendell winced, looked away, and rubbed his mouth with his index finger.

“I hope you’re better at blackmailing than that little shit was.”

“Is that a confession?” said Reel.

“What do you want?”

“A man is in prison right now, on trial for killing Sherman Clancy.”

“Okay. What does that have to do with my situation?”

“It has a lot to do with it if you had Sherm killed. That would mean the other guy is innocent.”

Wendell leaned forward and said, “Until my father died I didn’t even know who Sherman Clancy was. In fact, I didn’t know who Pete Clancy was until he tried to blackmail me.”

“So you admit you know who Pete is?” said Robie.

“Trust me, I wish I didn’t.”

“But you knew about your father’s…problem?”

“That he liked to diddle little kids? No, I had no clue about that until Pete sent me the pictures.”

“So you’re saying you didn’t have Sherman killed?”

“If I did, why in the hell would I admit it to you? But the fact is, no, I had no idea my father was being blackmailed for anything. When I saw the pictures…” His voice trailed off and he rose, walked over to the window, and looked out at the view.

“We have a hundred and forty-seven oil and gas platforms out in the Gulf,” he said. “We’re not as big as ExxonMobil, but we do really well. My father was a brilliant businessman; none better in my mind. I couldn’t hold a candle to him when it came to doing deals and making money. I think it’s because I’m not a psychopath. He evidently was. But then again, some of the best capitalists are.”

He turned back around to face them. “But when I saw those pictures I wanted to vomit. I wanted to kill my old man.”

“And how exactly did he die?” asked Robie.

“On the operating table. He’d had an aortic aneurysm. No question how his life ended. They didn’t even bother with an autopsy. And I didn’t see the pictures until after he died.”

“And you hired people to get the pictures back from Pete?”

Wendell shrugged. “I may not be as smart as my father but I’m not stupid. So, again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“People have been kidnapped and people have died,” Robie said.

“Don’t know what to tell you.”

“You’re planning to go public with your company?”

“We are.”

“So you have a lot to lose if this comes out,” said Robie.

“In the grand scheme of things, no. My old man had withdrawn from the business over the last five years. Our underwriters are banking on me, not him. He’s dead. I’m not. Even if he was a pedophile, the boys on Wall Street won’t give a damn. All they care about is the bottom line, and we make a shitload of money. We invested well, got our fingers in all the best places. We weathered the recession and had the capital to buy at bargain-rate prices when everybody was bailing. All we have is upside. The story is great. The IPO is going full steam ahead, bad news about Dad or not.”

“So why do you care about the pictures, then?” asked Reel.

When Wendell said nothing Robie answered. “Because his mother Norma Jean is still alive.”

Wendell looked away again. “My old man was an asshole. Treated me and my sisters like shit. I’m running the company now largely because my father was too busy living his life of decadence.”

“Diddling little boys?”

“I always thought he was off with other women. I wish he had been. Now, I guess I know better.”

“And your mother?”

“Heart of gold. Innocent as they come. Maybe as naïve as they come. If she saw those photos it would kill her.” He turned to look at them. “Kill her. And that’s just not something I can live with.”

“So you wanted the pictures back?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“And you’re sticking with your story that you didn’t have Sherman Clancy killed?”

“Like I said, I had no idea who Sherman Clancy was until his son showed up. Then I went back over the company’s financials. I found a rogue account that had been set up a long time ago. Money was funneled in and money was funneled out over decades. Millions of bucks. Maybe tens of millions. I tried to track where the dollars went but it was like a black hole. Even had my CPAs on the job, but they couldn’t do it either. Like I said, my old man was smart. Then Pete shows up on my doorstep and starts talking about pictures and money. That’s when I put two and two together.”

“But that was after Sherman died?”

“And after my father died, too. I had no reason to look at that part of his life until that punk showed up trying to blackmail my family. I guess he figured with my father dead and his old man dead, too, he needed to keep the gravy train going. Least that’s what he intimated.”

“So you met with him face-to-face?”

“Yeah, right here in fact.”

“Based on the pictures?”

“I recognized my father. Enough said.”

“And did you know the kids in the photo?”

Wendell shook his head. “No. They looked like…just kids.” He glanced down, his face turning pale.

“None of them were white, Mr. Wendell,” pointed out Robie. “They were either black or Latino. I’m wondering if that’s significant.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it might tell us where they came from.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know anything about that.”

Robie said, “I was at Pete’s house when he showed up with those men. They were there to get the pictures and kill Pete. They said they were going to give him an acid bath.”

“Maybe they did and maybe they didn’t. I can’t tell you. Maybe they were just trying to scare him so he’d give up the pictures and go away for good.”

“And you of course won’t admit to siccing them on Pete?”

“No, I won’t. That’s why I have a room full of lawyers. And I know you two don’t have recording devices on you. They would have set off the sensor built into the door frame you walked through.”

Robie glanced at the door. “Your doing?”

“No, my old man’s. Like I said, smart. And paranoid.”

Robie studied him. “You and your sisters? Did he ever…?”

“Never,” snapped Wendell. “I mean not with me. And I don’t believe with my sisters, either.” He paused. “But it’s not like I ever came out and asked them after I saw those photos. But…but wouldn’t they be screwed up or something if that had happened to them? If their own father had done that to them?”

He looked up at them in a pleading fashion.

“And they’re not screwed up?” asked Reel.

“Not so they admit,” replied Wendell.

“Well, maybe it’s a hard thing to admit,” said Robie.

“I didn’t kill Sherman Clancy. And I didn’t have anybody else do it. I just didn’t want my mother to ever see…to ever see those pictures. And if these men threatened Pete or went over the line, that wasn’t my doing. I didn’t want it to go down like that. I just wanted the pictures.”

“And if the FBI were to go through your accounts, would they find money paid to certain contractors that would seem mysterious? Like the men who were killed?”

“I’m a careful man. Interpret that how you want.”

“The pictures we saw,” said Robie. “Someone had to take them. Did Pete ever tell you who was the cameraman?”

Wendell looked genuinely puzzled by this question.

“Hell, I was fixated on seeing my dad like that, I never even thought about the person taking them. You mean another adult was involved in this?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“But who? Who is the sick son of a bitch? Was it this Sherm Clancy?”

“I wish I knew,” said Robie.

“And the photos?”

“I won’t use them unless I have to. But be prepared, Mr. Wendell, that this all might very well come out.”