Read Online Evening's Empire: The Story of My Father's Murder by Zachary Lazar - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Zachary Lazar
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Valley, Arizona.
Much of Arizona’s phenomenal growth has been due to the fact that many service men that were based in Arizona during their training decided to make their home here in their civilian life. These men have contributed a great deal to the vitality and growth of our State. This program should be an additional step along these lines. We wish you continued success.
With best wishes,
Barry Goldwater
Ed put it back in its manila envelope and looked again at the memo he’d written yesterday:
TO: N. J. Warren
FROM: Edward Lazar
We will want a letter from Sam Steiger that will read something like the following:
Mr. Dale Holmgren
Mr. Dave Martin
Mr. Dale Hunt
Mr. Harry Gillis
Capital Management Systems Ltd., Inc.
P.O. Box 364
Koza, Okinawa
Dear Mr. So and So:
Best wishes on your investment program for the ownership of home-sites in Chino Valley, Arizona.
Much of Arizona’s phenomenal growth has been due to the fact that many service men that were based in Arizona during their training decided to make their home here in their civilian life. These men have contributed a great deal to the vitality and growth of our state. Your program should be an additional step along these lines. Continued success.
Sincerely,
Sam Steiger
“No one’s heard of Sam Steiger,” Warren had said on the phone yesterday, speaking from his house. “Sam Steiger’s just a congressman from Arizona.”
“He’s helping us out with the Forest Service,” Ed had said.
“So get him, too,” Warren had answered, as if with a shrug.
The memo had been delivered to Warren’s house by messenger boy and then the letter had been dictated to Goldwater’s office by someone over the phone—that was the only way it could have happened in less than twenty-four hours. That also explained some minor differences in a few of the sentences. But he couldn’t imagine Warren patiently reading a letter over the phone, making subtle changes of phrasing. The phrases would have been changed by someone’s secretary, probably Goldwater’s, but how the letter had even made it that far was a mystery.
It was the Wild West—that was the phrase that covered such mysteries. He could have asked Warren how the Goldwater letter had materialized, how it had happened in less than twenty-four hours, but it was the kind of question you knew not to ask after two years in the land business. They had connections to a lot of people. Now they somehow had connections to Barry Goldwater. He wondered if not just Sam Steiger but Barry Goldwater owned land in Chino Valley.
“I need a favor,” Jack Ross had said that afternoon in Mexico, standing at the bar, drinking whiskey because that was what he drank, even by a pool. “That land I told you about, I don’t know what I’m going to be able to do with it.”
Warren nodded. “It’s called Chino Grande?”
“That’s right. They did up a flier already. Chino Grande Ranchettes.”
“Outside Seligman.”
“Far outside. There’s no road.”
“But it’s in Chino Valley.”
“Not really Chino Valley. It’s north of there.”
“We’ll call it Chino Valley. That way we’ll keep it simple.”
Their conversation would have happened on August 14. The Goldwater letter was dated August 19. The first time Warren mentioned the Jack Ross land to Ed Lazar was a month later, in September. There were reasons for doing it this way, reasons for spacing out the favors so that no one could connect them too easily.
CAC, CMC, CMS. Chino Valley, Chino Meadows, Chino Grande. This is how you can become a party to fraud without quite knowing it, without the perpetrator necessarily even planning it that way.
Ed drove home that evening in his new car. He liked it even less than his last car, which had been a Cadillac. Like the Cadillac, the new car, a Lincoln, had been Warren’s idea. It made Ed feel silly—it was ostentatious, it cost more than his house was worth—but there was only so much you could explain to your friends
Much of Arizona’s phenomenal growth has been due to the fact that many service men that were based in Arizona during their training decided to make their home here in their civilian life. These men have contributed a great deal to the vitality and growth of our State. This program should be an additional step along these lines. We wish you continued success.
With best wishes,
Barry Goldwater
Ed put it back in its manila envelope and looked again at the memo he’d written yesterday:
TO: N. J. Warren
FROM: Edward Lazar
We will want a letter from Sam Steiger that will read something like the following:
Mr. Dale Holmgren
Mr. Dave Martin
Mr. Dale Hunt
Mr. Harry Gillis
Capital Management Systems Ltd., Inc.
P.O. Box 364
Koza, Okinawa
Dear Mr. So and So:
Best wishes on your investment program for the ownership of home-sites in Chino Valley, Arizona.
Much of Arizona’s phenomenal growth has been due to the fact that many service men that were based in Arizona during their training decided to make their home here in their civilian life. These men have contributed a great deal to the vitality and growth of our state. Your program should be an additional step along these lines. Continued success.
Sincerely,
Sam Steiger
“No one’s heard of Sam Steiger,” Warren had said on the phone yesterday, speaking from his house. “Sam Steiger’s just a congressman from Arizona.”
“He’s helping us out with the Forest Service,” Ed had said.
“So get him, too,” Warren had answered, as if with a shrug.
The memo had been delivered to Warren’s house by messenger boy and then the letter had been dictated to Goldwater’s office by someone over the phone—that was the only way it could have happened in less than twenty-four hours. That also explained some minor differences in a few of the sentences. But he couldn’t imagine Warren patiently reading a letter over the phone, making subtle changes of phrasing. The phrases would have been changed by someone’s secretary, probably Goldwater’s, but how the letter had even made it that far was a mystery.
It was the Wild West—that was the phrase that covered such mysteries. He could have asked Warren how the Goldwater letter had materialized, how it had happened in less than twenty-four hours, but it was the kind of question you knew not to ask after two years in the land business. They had connections to a lot of people. Now they somehow had connections to Barry Goldwater. He wondered if not just Sam Steiger but Barry Goldwater owned land in Chino Valley.
“I need a favor,” Jack Ross had said that afternoon in Mexico, standing at the bar, drinking whiskey because that was what he drank, even by a pool. “That land I told you about, I don’t know what I’m going to be able to do with it.”
Warren nodded. “It’s called Chino Grande?”
“That’s right. They did up a flier already. Chino Grande Ranchettes.”
“Outside Seligman.”
“Far outside. There’s no road.”
“But it’s in Chino Valley.”
“Not really Chino Valley. It’s north of there.”
“We’ll call it Chino Valley. That way we’ll keep it simple.”
Their conversation would have happened on August 14. The Goldwater letter was dated August 19. The first time Warren mentioned the Jack Ross land to Ed Lazar was a month later, in September. There were reasons for doing it this way, reasons for spacing out the favors so that no one could connect them too easily.
CAC, CMC, CMS. Chino Valley, Chino Meadows, Chino Grande. This is how you can become a party to fraud without quite knowing it, without the perpetrator necessarily even planning it that way.
Ed drove home that evening in his new car. He liked it even less than his last car, which had been a Cadillac. Like the Cadillac, the new car, a Lincoln, had been Warren’s idea. It made Ed feel silly—it was ostentatious, it cost more than his house was worth—but there was only so much you could explain to your friends
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