Read Online Voodoo Daddy (A Virgil Jones Mystery) by Thomas L. Scott - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Thomas L. Scott
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myself...”
* * *
It took a few moments to get everyone calmed down, but in the end I got Marriott’s assurance that they’d all cooperate. I told Rosencrantz and Donatti to take the guards out and un-cuff them, and once that was all done, I looked Marriott in the eye and said, “How about we start over?”
The woman seated directly across from me looked at Marriott. “Perhaps we should bring Bob Brighton in, James. Don’t you think?”
Marriott snarled at her. “We don’t need Bob for Christ sake.”
“Who’s Bob Brighton?” I said.
“He’s our in-house council,” the woman said. “My name is Gloria Birchmier, by the way.” She nodded in turn to the other two men at the table. “Dick Hawthorne and Thomas Fallbrook,” she said by way of introductions.
I nodded at everyone. “Alright, so, lay it out for me. Your organization, I mean. The four of you are the executive committee?”
Gloria answered for the group. “Yes. There are normally five of us. Franklin was the fifth. We have a total of eleven board members. All from within the state, except that the others are all from out of town. Two live in Fort Wayne, one in South Bend, and the other three in Evansville. They are all on their way here of course, but it will be a few hours I imagine.”
“Who notified them of Mr. Dugan’s murder?” I said.
“We all did,” Gloria said. “We have a disaster plan in place. Each of us have assigned duties and responsibilities as defined in the plan. One of those responsibilities in the event of a disaster is immediate notification of the company’s Board of Directors.”
“What qualifies as a disaster?”
Hawthorne spoke for the first time. “Well, it’s pretty broad. Just about anything from any sort of natural disaster that would affect our operations, like structural damage to our facilities from fire, flood, tornados, things of that sort—to the sudden death or incapacitation of anyone on the executive committee.”
“Were any of you unable to reach the other members of the board?”
Fallbrook raised his hand. “I had a little trouble with one of my assigns. Bill Acker. But eventually I got him.”
“Home or office?” I said.
“Oh, it was at home. He was just in the shower.”
“So to the best of everyone’s knowledge, the board members who were in town this morning are all in this room, and everyone else, everyone who lives out of town were all…well, out of 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. “Aw, Jesus Christ.” He picked up the phone and punched one of the buttons. Margery…get Bob Brighton in here. Now.”
* * *
Sunrise Bank’s lead council, 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,” I 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,
* * *
It took a few moments to get everyone calmed down, but in the end I got Marriott’s assurance that they’d all cooperate. I told Rosencrantz and Donatti to take the guards out and un-cuff them, and once that was all done, I looked Marriott in the eye and said, “How about we start over?”
The woman seated directly across from me looked at Marriott. “Perhaps we should bring Bob Brighton in, James. Don’t you think?”
Marriott snarled at her. “We don’t need Bob for Christ sake.”
“Who’s Bob Brighton?” I said.
“He’s our in-house council,” the woman said. “My name is Gloria Birchmier, by the way.” She nodded in turn to the other two men at the table. “Dick Hawthorne and Thomas Fallbrook,” she said by way of introductions.
I nodded at everyone. “Alright, so, lay it out for me. Your organization, I mean. The four of you are the executive committee?”
Gloria answered for the group. “Yes. There are normally five of us. Franklin was the fifth. We have a total of eleven board members. All from within the state, except that the others are all from out of town. Two live in Fort Wayne, one in South Bend, and the other three in Evansville. They are all on their way here of course, but it will be a few hours I imagine.”
“Who notified them of Mr. Dugan’s murder?” I said.
“We all did,” Gloria said. “We have a disaster plan in place. Each of us have assigned duties and responsibilities as defined in the plan. One of those responsibilities in the event of a disaster is immediate notification of the company’s Board of Directors.”
“What qualifies as a disaster?”
Hawthorne spoke for the first time. “Well, it’s pretty broad. Just about anything from any sort of natural disaster that would affect our operations, like structural damage to our facilities from fire, flood, tornados, things of that sort—to the sudden death or incapacitation of anyone on the executive committee.”
“Were any of you unable to reach the other members of the board?”
Fallbrook raised his hand. “I had a little trouble with one of my assigns. Bill Acker. But eventually I got him.”
“Home or office?” I said.
“Oh, it was at home. He was just in the shower.”
“So to the best of everyone’s knowledge, the board members who were in town this morning are all in this room, and everyone else, everyone who lives out of town were all…well, out of 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. “Aw, Jesus Christ.” He picked up the phone and punched one of the buttons. Margery…get Bob Brighton in here. Now.”
* * *
Sunrise Bank’s lead council, 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,” I 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,
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