Read Online STATE OF ANGER: A Virgil Jones Mystery Series (Detective Virgil Jones Mystery Series Book 1) by Thomas Scott - Free Book Online
Authors: Thomas Scott
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town?”
Everyone nodded.
“Yes, I believe that’s correct,”
Gloria said. “Why?”
“Because I’m trying to figure out
who killed your boss, Ms. Birchmier.”
Gloria put a hand to her throat.
“And you think one of us did it?”
Marriott swore under his breath
then picked up the phone and punched one of the buttons. “Margery…get Bob
Brighton in here. Now.”
__________
Sunrise Bank’s chief legal officer,
Bob Brighton entered the conference room a few minutes later. Brighton was
short, not much over five feet tall, and gone to fat. His hair was gray and
kinky, he wore a yellow bow tie and his pants were about an inch too short.
“How do you do, Detective?”
“I’m well, thank you Mr. Brighton.
Your executive committee thought it might be best if you sat in for a few of my
questions.”
“Indeed. Please, proceed.”
“He thinks one of us killed
Franklin,” Gloria said.
Brighton raised his eyebrows at
me, and a small grin formed at the corner of his mouth.
“That’s not exactly accurate,”
Virgil said.
Gloria pointed a finger at me. “It
is too accurate. You said so yourself.”
“No, Ms. Birchmier, what I said
was that I am trying to figure out who killed Mr. Dugan. You were the one who
asked if I thought any of you did it, not me.”
“Well, the implication was quite
clear, Detective.”
Brighton cut in. “Correct me if
I’m wrong, Detective, but these types of investigations are usually conducted,
um, what’s the best way to put it? By process of elimination, isn’t that
correct?”
I nodded. “That’s often true. But,
keep in mind, we also look at the question of ‘who benefits?’ So let me ask all
of you this: with Franklin Dugan now deceased, who gets the big chair? Who is
going to be Chairman of the Board and CEO of Sunrise Bank?”
“The Board will have to vote on
that,” Hawthorne said. “But undoubtedly, it would be one of us.”
“Okay, so what happens if there’s
a tie with the vote?”
“Then we would revert to the
question of who holds the most stock. It’s in the charter.”
“So who holds the most stock?”
Virgil said, even though he thought he knew the answer.
Marriott rubbed his forehead with
the fingertips of both hands. “I do.”
__________
Virgil had everyone except
Marriott and Brighton leave the room. When they were gone, Marriott shook his
head. “I didn’t kill him. Hell, I was up at six and gone by six-thirty at the
latest. I went to the club, worked out, and then ate a light breakfast in the
dining room. Gloria called me on my cell and told me the news. Plus, there must
have been about ten or twenty people who saw me from the time I walked in the
club until I left.”
None of Virgil’s follow-up questions
for Marriott lead them anywhere at all, so he pulled at another thread. “I’d
like to ask you about Samuel Pate.”
Marriott snuffed at the mention of
Pate’s name. “So ask.”
“Well,” Virgil said, “What I’d
really like is your general, overall impression of the man.”
Marriott leaned in, his forearms
on the edge of the table. “Detective, we have a rather unique business model
here at Sunrise. No other financial institution in the country does what we do.
Now, don’t misunderstand what I’m saying—there are plenty of banks out
there that lend money to churches and religious institutions all across the
U.S. But we are the only one that does it exclusively.”
“If you have a point, Mr.
Marriott, so far it’s lost on me.”
“My point is simple, Detective. We
are as close as you could come to being called a private bank. We vigorously
protect our assets and those of our clients. Confidentiality at our institution
is held at the highest regard. I’m quite sure you understand.”
“I’m not asking for his
financials, Mr. Marriott. I’m asking for your general impression of the man.”
Marriott looked at Virgil for a
full minute before he spoke. “He doesn’t let much get in his
Everyone nodded.
“Yes, I believe that’s correct,”
Gloria said. “Why?”
“Because I’m trying to figure out
who killed your boss, Ms. Birchmier.”
Gloria put a hand to her throat.
“And you think one of us did it?”
Marriott swore under his breath
then picked up the phone and punched one of the buttons. “Margery…get Bob
Brighton in here. Now.”
__________
Sunrise Bank’s chief legal officer,
Bob Brighton entered the conference room a few minutes later. Brighton was
short, not much over five feet tall, and gone to fat. His hair was gray and
kinky, he wore a yellow bow tie and his pants were about an inch too short.
“How do you do, Detective?”
“I’m well, thank you Mr. Brighton.
Your executive committee thought it might be best if you sat in for a few of my
questions.”
“Indeed. Please, proceed.”
“He thinks one of us killed
Franklin,” Gloria said.
Brighton raised his eyebrows at
me, and a small grin formed at the corner of his mouth.
“That’s not exactly accurate,”
Virgil said.
Gloria pointed a finger at me. “It
is too accurate. You said so yourself.”
“No, Ms. Birchmier, what I said
was that I am trying to figure out who killed Mr. Dugan. You were the one who
asked if I thought any of you did it, not me.”
“Well, the implication was quite
clear, Detective.”
Brighton cut in. “Correct me if
I’m wrong, Detective, but these types of investigations are usually conducted,
um, what’s the best way to put it? By process of elimination, isn’t that
correct?”
I nodded. “That’s often true. But,
keep in mind, we also look at the question of ‘who benefits?’ So let me ask all
of you this: with Franklin Dugan now deceased, who gets the big chair? Who is
going to be Chairman of the Board and CEO of Sunrise Bank?”
“The Board will have to vote on
that,” Hawthorne said. “But undoubtedly, it would be one of us.”
“Okay, so what happens if there’s
a tie with the vote?”
“Then we would revert to the
question of who holds the most stock. It’s in the charter.”
“So who holds the most stock?”
Virgil said, even though he thought he knew the answer.
Marriott rubbed his forehead with
the fingertips of both hands. “I do.”
__________
Virgil had everyone except
Marriott and Brighton leave the room. When they were gone, Marriott shook his
head. “I didn’t kill him. Hell, I was up at six and gone by six-thirty at the
latest. I went to the club, worked out, and then ate a light breakfast in the
dining room. Gloria called me on my cell and told me the news. Plus, there must
have been about ten or twenty people who saw me from the time I walked in the
club until I left.”
None of Virgil’s follow-up questions
for Marriott lead them anywhere at all, so he pulled at another thread. “I’d
like to ask you about Samuel Pate.”
Marriott snuffed at the mention of
Pate’s name. “So ask.”
“Well,” Virgil said, “What I’d
really like is your general, overall impression of the man.”
Marriott leaned in, his forearms
on the edge of the table. “Detective, we have a rather unique business model
here at Sunrise. No other financial institution in the country does what we do.
Now, don’t misunderstand what I’m saying—there are plenty of banks out
there that lend money to churches and religious institutions all across the
U.S. But we are the only one that does it exclusively.”
“If you have a point, Mr.
Marriott, so far it’s lost on me.”
“My point is simple, Detective. We
are as close as you could come to being called a private bank. We vigorously
protect our assets and those of our clients. Confidentiality at our institution
is held at the highest regard. I’m quite sure you understand.”
“I’m not asking for his
financials, Mr. Marriott. I’m asking for your general impression of the man.”
Marriott looked at Virgil for a
full minute before he spoke. “He doesn’t let much get in his
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