Read Online Death in Cold Water by Patricia Skalka - Free Book Online

met Sneider twice at the Packers office and then it was only to follow through on business correspondence concerning Sneider’s logging interests.”
    â€œHe’s from Green Bay?”
    â€œNo. Nashville, but he’s lived up here for thirty years or so. A bit of a loner, according to my agent. Big house, five cats, expensive tastes. Follows chess not football. Hard to see how he connected with Sneider. I’ve got a man tracing his movements for the past six months, see if there’s any red flags in where he’s been and who he’s been in contact with. If this is an inside job, he’d be a good candidate.”
    Moore was interrupted again. Cubiak was about to hang up when the agent was back on the line. “Have you started going through Sneider’s files and personal papers yet?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDon’t bother with them then. Agent Harrison is on her way there now. She’ll take it from here.”
    So much for being in charge, Cubiak thought.
    Andrew was on the couch with his eyes closed when the sheriff got back to the office with the glass of water.
    â€œOne of the federal agents, a Gwen Harrison, is on her way here now,” Cubiak said.
    Andrew slumped into the sofa. “I’ve got to talk to the FBI?”
    â€œIt’s routine. They’ll be talking to all kinds of people. Nothing to worry about.”
    Andrew cast a nervous glance around the office. “Yeah,” he said.
    Cubiak opened a tall casement window to let in the cool air.
    â€œYour father didn’t have a computer?” he asked, taking in the old-fashioned furnishings.
    Andrew laughed. “He didn’t trust computers. Also didn’t know how to use one.”
    â€œNo laptop, notebook?”
    Andrew shook his head. “Didn’t even have a typewriter. My father liked to talk things through, settle deals with a handshake. Anything in writing, his secretary handled.”
    Cubiak considered the wall of custom-made, built-in wood file cabinets. Gerald Sneider had been a powerhouse for decades. There were drawers full of business correspondence that could harbor secret agreements or point to potential enemies. After talking with Moore, Cubiak knew that leaving Andrew alone with his father’s papers could jeopardize the investigation. He had no choice but to wait there with him for Harrison.
    The sheriff surveyed the dozens of photos and certificates that hung on the walls. The pictures and documents, all richly matted and framed in gold, created an impressive profile of Sneider as an upstanding citizen. There he was standing alongside a series of Green Bay mayors and Wisconsin governors and U.S. senators. Plaques honored him as Businessman of the Year, Citizen of the Decade, and even State Philanthropist of the Century. There were accolades from the Lions, the Kiwanis, the Rotary, the Boy Scouts, more than a half-dozen civic organizations.
    Just as impressive were the photos that traced the missing man’s long history with the Packers, first in black and white and then in vivid color: a picture of Sneider with every quarterback and coach since Vince Lombardi, and then one of him with each of the Packers’ five Super Bowl teams and five of its NFL championship teams. Big shoes to fill, Cubiak thought, looking at Andrew sprawled on the couch.
    â€œYour father has quite a legacy, especially with the Packers.”
    Andrew made a sound like a laugh. “To some people, the Packers wouldn’t be what they are without him. They’re the only franchise team in the league that’s publicly owned. He bought his first share of stock for twenty-five dollars in 1950 when he was seventeen. That gave him his first vote in the organization. After that, every time there was a stock drive, he anted up. So far, there’ve been five million shares issued and my dad ended up with six hundred thousand of them, the maximum of two hundred thousand for himself, my