“Part of the dowry. Getting a venture capitalist is a courtship. Only in this courtship, one person, the entrepreneur, really needs—but doesn’t want—the other, the venture capitalist. The venture capitalist really wants—but doesn’t need—the entrepreneur.”
“Not all that different from many other courtships, I’d say.”
Mark laughed. “Probably true.” He put two coins in the machine and punched a button. A Dr Pepper popped out. “What would you like?”
“Same.”
Mark handed her the drink and dropped in coins for another. “So the two, the entrepreneur and the venture capitalist, court one another. The entrepreneur is the bashful young maiden and the VC is the suitor. The maiden flirts a little and when the VC shows some interest, she gives him a little peak into the closed, mysterious secrets of her ... business plan.” They took the drinks and started back to Crystal’s office. “When the suitor begins to talk about a relationship, the maiden reveals more of her plans.”
“Sounds sexy.”
“It can be exhilarating. The maiden knows that if she still entertains others, it may help keep her suitor’s interest high, perhaps keep his expectations for the dowry a bit lower. But at some point, she must pledge her love. Now, if she does this too soon, she’ll lose her advantage. She’ll give too much dowry and get too few guarantees. If she waits too long, she may lose all the suitors.”
“Ah, the plight of the innocent maiden,” Crystal sighed, quickly checking her computer as they reentered her office. No news.
Mark settled in the chair facing her desk. “Eventually, a dowry is offered, and often that involves a good bit of bargaining. The suitor may begin by promising to take care of the maiden and protect her from outside forces. If the other interested parties bow out, then quickly, the suitor sees he has no competition and demands more dowry. The maiden now sees the suitor as her only hope and begs her father for more dowry.”
“Is that what happened with IRS?”
“Well, let’s just say the suitor was very experienced and the maiden was a little naive.”
“Are you really worried about this visit?”
“You bet I am. We still need Rooney. And I don’t know who this consultant is. I don’t know what prompted Rooney to bring him in. I don’t know how much Rooney will depend on his judgment. But Rooney doesn’t pay people just to take up space.” Mark shook his head. “A damning report from the consultant, maybe even a lukewarm one, could jeopardize our funding.”
A thought occurred to Mark. “I wonder if Rooney went looking for a consultant, an expert, to come check us out, or ...”
“Or the consultant found Rooney?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I don’t see—”
Crystal was interrupted by a lion’s roar coming from her computer, its signal that it had contact from The Park. Both Crystal and Mark turned their attention to the monitor. This time, it wasn’t a police car.
Chapter 22
“WHAT'VE you got?” Glothe asked when Crystal reached him at his office.
“A blue, ninety-four Chevy half-ton entered The Park at 10:38 this morning.” Crystal read off the license plate number. “Can someone check on it?”
“I’ll check on it myself. Let you know what I find.”
Crystal repeated Bill’s comments to Mark. “The only problem is, it’ll take Bill at least fifteen minutes to get there.”
"Whoever it is isn’t likely to get in and out in fifteen minutes. They’re looking for something and can’t find it. They might not stay too long for fear of being caught, but I’m willing to bet they’ll still be around when Bill gets there.”
#
Twenty minutes later, Glothe called. “If I hadn’t been the sheriff, I’d have given myself a ticket for speeding.” The line went silent.
“Was the car still there?”
“Yeah. And the driver. Oh, hold for a minute.”
Crystal felt her pulse quicken. Bill sounded calm, but Crystal was as excited as if she’d just taken a perfect soufflé out of the oven.
After a couple of minutes, Bill came back on the line. “'Pologize for the interruption. Turns out the car was Smoky Robertsone of the volunteer firemen. Buddy asked him to come out and check something to do with the accelerant. Anyway, false alarm. But seems like your gadget's doing its thing.”
#
At 1:26, a truck entered The Park. It was a rust-colored four-by-four. The picture was clear enough, but the license plate wasn't. Mud covered part of its left side; the right side was bent so badly that the camera didn’t show the first character. However, the computer had identified the four remaining characters.
Crystal called Glothe’s office. The dispatcher told her the sheriff wasn't in, but promised she would try to reach him.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang. “Bill?”
“No, Ma’am. This is his office. We are unable to reach him. We will keep trying. Usually, it’s only a matter of ten or fifteen minutes, and then he’ll call us. I mean, if he knows that he’s been out of contact, he generally checks in.”
Crystal hung up disappointed. She considered driving out there herself. But that would take over an hour. Besides, she remembered her last visit to The Park. She didn’t want to dodge any more bullets. Or water moccasins. Glothe would call in plenty of time, she told herself.
A few minutes later, Mark appeared at her office door. “You want to try IPPI on it? Is it ready?”
“Ready as fresh-baked bread.”
“That food thing again, huh?”
Crystal's cheeks colored slightly. “That’s just what came to mind.”
Mark laughed. “Just teasing. Have you finished loading the DPS file yet?”
“About an hour ago. Nothing like a real test. With the model, color, and make of the truck, plus more than half the license plate, there's a good chance the IPPI program can determine the owner."
Crystal started the program on her computer, entered the information they had, and waited. In less than three minutes, the program reported that it had over a thousand possible matches in the state. Crystal instructed the program to report only those vehicles registered within thirty miles of Wooden Nickel. In five seconds, the screen was filled with the particulars on the four vehicles that matched the criteria.
Crystal stared at the screen, her eyes wide and her mouth open.
“You look as if you’re surprised,” Mark said. “Didn’t you expect it to work this well?”
She put her finger on the third entry on the computer screen: Randal Kenderson. "I got a call from Randal Kenderson last night. He wanted to know if I would sell him the timber off The Park. Said it probably would bring more than enough to have the house rebuilt. He was really pushy."
Mark nodded.
"No, Mark, you don't understand. He's been trying to buy Nana's timber for years. And here’s his name, puce truck and all."
"Wanting to buy timber isn’t a bad thing. Did they get along okay?”
"Like sour pickles and ice cream.”
Mark laughed. "I take it that means they didn’t get along.”
“That’s an understatement.
“Did your grandmother have insurance on the house?"
"Insurance? Nana?” She shook her head. “No way. She didn't like insurance. Granddad used to say he didn't spend money where the only way you got any good out of it was if something bad happened. They carried liability on the car only because they couldn't get it registered without it."
“Humm. Well, let’s look at what else the IPPI can do.”
An hour slipped by before Glothe called. Mark was still playing with the Identification from Partial Plate Information program on Crystal’s computer, so she put Glothe’s call on the speakerphone.
"Sorry didn't get back to you sooner. Believe it or not, I've been in the middle of a drug bust. Wouldn't think we'd have that problem out here, would you? Anyway, what've ya got?"
Crystal filled him in an
d explained the IPPI program. "We've got four cars in your area that are possibles.” She read the information to Glothe.
"Well, you can forget about Graham. Known him for a long time. Besides, he's too sick to bother anybody right now. We'll get on the other three right away."
"Remember, Bill,” Mark interjected. “We don't have a complete match. So it may not be any of these. And we only checked vehicles registered within a thirty-mile radius."
"It's something to start on. We'll be as careful as a hen tip-toeing past a sleeping fox. I'll get someone out to The Park right away. And we'll check these trucks and let you know the skinny."
“One other thing,” Crystal said. “Randal Kenderson called me last night trying to buy the timber.”
“Mighty interesting. Wonder how he tracked you down? ‘Course, that’s not so bad. Sometimes, when someone dies, loggers just go in and steal the timber. At least he called.”
Mark made a slight sound of disbelief. “Steal it? Wouldn’t somebody notice?”
“Logging’s going on all the time. Most people are honest. So they see a logging operation and assume it’s legal. Time someone figures out it ain’t, loggers are gone, and so's the timber. Eula’s place is too big. They couldn’t get it all. But a lot. Well, let me see what I can find.”
#
Glothe called again in the late afternoon. "Well, we've checked the trucks you gave me. 'Course, I told you about Graham. The one registered to Wilkins is in the junkyard, and has been for a month. Arnold is on vacation—in that truck. According to the neighbors, he's been gone a week and is not expected back for another week.
"Then, there's Kenderson. The name sounded familiar, but it took me a few minutes to get a picture of him in my mind. I know him. You’re right. He buys the right to timber land. Timber's high right now. He's paying good money. But I've seen his work. Really leaves a mess when he's through. Any rate, he's wanted to timber The Park for a long time. You can imagine how Eula responds to that. Like waving a red flag in front of a bull. He keeps trying; she keeps saying no. Anyway, I didn't get to talk to him. Couldn't find him and nobody seems to know where he is. We'll stay on it and let you know when we talk to him."
There wasn't much to tell but Crystal called Mark and reported what Glothe said.
“I’d like to call your grandmother,” Mark asked. “Think she’d mind?”
Crystal assured him Eula wouldn't mind and gave him Melva's phone number.
Chapter 23
"EULA, this is Mark O'Malley. How are you?"
"Doing Fine. Can you tell me in twenty-five words or less just what Intelligent Retrieval Systems does?”
The question took Mark by surprise. “Surely Crystal has told you what we do.”
“I dearly love Crystal, but she can’t tell me anything in twenty-five words or less. She gets started on what y’all do and for thirty minutes it all goes over my head. Can you do any better?”
Mark smiled. “Twenty-five words or less? I never have. If I made it sound that simple for a client, we wouldn’t be able to charge them as much money as we do.”
“I’m not buying.”
“ Okay. Let’s see.” He thought for a moment. “We produce computer systems that allow companies to sift through their gigantic haystack of information and find the exact needle they want, quickly, easily, cheaply. That’s twenty-five.”
“Thank you. What's on your mind?"
Once again, her abrupt change caught him off guard. Before he recovered, she said, "I know you didn't call about my health or state of mind. I know it has to do with the goings on at The Park. I ‘preciate your interest and know you're a busy man. So, let's get down to business."
"Do you know a man named Kenderson?"
"No."
Mark frowned with disappointment.
"I know a jackass."
"I beg your pardon?” Mark was confused.
"I know a jackass who calls himself Kenderson. Always trying to timber my land. Can you understand me when I say no? Do I mispronounce it or something?"
"Sounds pretty clear to me.” Mark was smiling again.
"Well, old jackass Kenderson can't understand. I have told him ‘no’ ever since Dan died. No, I am not going to let him timber my land. No. But he keeps on. Lately, he's gotten abusive. Tells me I'm a stupid old woman. Don't I know that trees grow back? He'll cut only some of the trees, leave plenty. And then new ones will grow back.” She paused just long enough to get her breath. "You’ve never seen the way he leaves a place he timbers. Looks like a tornado's been through. And I'll be dead long before it grows back. I don't need his money. And I'm not letting him in The Park.” By the time she finished, she was spitting out the words.
"When was the last time he contacted you?"
"Two, three weeks ago. Could have been four. Why?"
"He owns a puce truck.”
"Wouldn't surprise me. Guess I ought to apologize to the jackasses. They're smarter than Kenderson.”
Mark shook his head as he put the phone down. Eula was something else. The tragedy of the fire and Bessie's death had introduced him to three interesting and unusual people, people he hoped to be able to call friends: Eula, Bill Glothe and Sam Teeter.
#
Crystal was standing in the hall when Mark came dashing out of his office, tennis bag in hand. He glanced at his watch and stopped. “Got a moment to educate me?”
“Sure. Any particular topic, or just general education?”
Mark grinned. “Today the topic is timber. My friend Josh Kinsolving made a remark the other night that just popped into my mind. He said ‘Wouldn’t be the first time someone was killed for timber.’ I ignored that at the time, but now that Kenderson is on the scene, it may be worth considering. I know people get killed for a few dollars sometimes. But this was planned out. My question is this: how much is timber worth?”
Tension lines crossed Crystal’s face as soon as she understood the topic had to do with the attacks on her grandmother. “I don’t really know. I remember once a friend of Nana’s went on vacation. When she got back, she found someone had cut most of the trees on her land. I remember Nana saying they probably stole forty, fifty thousand dollars worth.”
Mark nodded.
“And the friend only had—well, I don’t know—but I’m guessing maybe sixty or eighty acres.”
“So, you’re telling me Eula’s timber could be worth $250,000?” His voice carried a tone somewhere between disbelief and amazement.
Crystal tilted her head to one side and rubbed her forehead with her left hand. “Hmmm.” She looked down at nothing. When she looked up, she was shaking her head. “Hard to say. I know The Park hasn’t been timbered in at least thirty years. And I’ll bet it’s more like fifty. There’re a lot of really good trees there. If they took both hardwoods and the pines, it could be more.”
“More than $250,000?”
“Yeah. Maybe more.”
Mark whistled softly. “I’d dismissed Josh’s comment about timber being a motive. Maybe I should reexamine it. Even disregarding the ‘maybe more’ you added, a quarter of a million dollars provides incentive enough for many criminals.”
“Of course, I’m just guessing. Nana would never sell it, so I’m sure she’s never had it appraised. To really know, you’d have to ask a timber man.”
“Like Kenderson?”
“Like Kenderson. But don’t. Nana would boil over.”
“I won’t. Just curious. Looking for motives.” Mark looked at his watch again. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run. Late for a tennis match.”
“Tennis? Must seem pretty tame after bull-riding.”
“Exactly. I’ve never had a tennis opponent step on me.” He grinned. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
Mark started to leave, but stopped and turned back to Crystal. “Oh, talked to Rooney’s office this afternoon. Got a little more information. Their two top dogs are coming along with the consultant. And I found out the consultant’s name. Dr. Lester Krupe. Wasn
’t he your dissertation advisor?”
Crystal felt like someone had slammed her in the stomach with a sledgehammer and a chill raced through her body. She could hardly get the breath to speak. She managed a weak yes.
“Maybe that’ll help us some.” He turned to go. “See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder. “You can fill me in on Krupe then.”
Crystal’s legs felt rubbery. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, the professor’s face forcing its way into her mind. She could see him sneering, telling her she was worthless, incapable of doing graduate work, devoid of original thought. Her dissertation? Trash.
Slowly, her back slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. Her head sank down to rest on her knees. Her entire body slumped as if she had no bones. For a few moments, she thought she might throw up.
Krupe was coming back to make sure she was recognized as a fraud, a failure. He had destroyed her quest for a Ph.D. Now, he would ruin her career, take away her job and what self-esteem she had managed to regain since she left Stanford.
Why? Why had he done that to her? Why was he coming back now? To make sure she had no part in the scientific community?
The conversation with Mark came back to her. Maybe the consultant sought out the venture capitalists. Maybe Dr. Krupe sought out the company funding IRS so he could deal with Crystal, so he could destroy her again.
From a remote corner of her mind, a tiny voice whispered a question. Why do you let him affect your confidence? You are doing excellent work. You are doing original work. Other than Mark, you do the best work in the company. Why do you care what Dr. Krupe thinks about you?
Because he is a recognized authority in the field, she answered herself. Because his opinion is respected. When he says a work is excellent, people listen. And, she reminded herself bitterly, when he says work is insignificant, people believe him.
A Ton of Gold (Crystal Moore Suspense Book 1) Page 10