“Oh yeah!” Ahmed said. “I see what you mean. Cool!”
“For generations,” Paul said. “Outsiders like us... do-gooders... have been dropping by briefly, trying to impose their versions of cookie-cutter remedies. None could solve the chronic profound poverty that’s afflicted this area almost since the first European colonizers arrived. I’m sure some had honorable intentions. Others did not, and their greed took control. Fact is, we may not change a thing. The key is the people. If we find a few who’ve not had their spirits crushed, just maybe they’ll have a shot at a better future for themselves and others.”
“Awesome!” Ahmed said. His intelligent eyes grew wide with enthusiasm.
“Anyway, we best get some rest now,” Paul said. “Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”
Chapter Forty-Five
New Scotland Yard
“Lord Winston’s suspicions may have been correct,” CS Hagerman said. “It looks like Maurice Eldridge and that librarian at the House of Lords are up to something. That is, something more than a romantic connection.”
“Then it’s possible they’re involved in the security breaches?” Richard asked.
“That seems likely,” Hagerman replied. “Paul told us he saw Marion, the librarian, slip something into a book and give it to a fellow with a Middle Eastern appearance. Right?
Richard nodded.
“He said the man looked a bit like Eldridge,” Ken continued. “We’ve surveillance video of Eldridge as well as of a man with a similar build making visits to her. They’re so close in appearance few could tell them apart, except the other one had a full beard.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Hale Springs Inn
Rogersville, TN
Paul had been exchanging small talk for several minutes with a man in the hotel lobby when the younger man said, “Y’all look like a visitor. Y’autta know, it don’t pay to count on anybody around these parts.”
“How’s that?” Paul asked, curious at the shift to serious in their conversation.
“Trustin’ folks cost my family everythin’, everythin’ we had, such as it was.”
Paul had been waiting to meet Ahmed for dinner when the young man dropped into an upholstered chair beside him. During their small talk the young man had offered to shine his shoes. Paul’s curiosity overtook his normal reserve with strangers.
“What happened to your family?” Paul asked.
“Tried ta compete with the big guys,” the young man said. Anger crossed his face. “Ma diddy was gonna create some good jobs for us kids and other local folk. They suckered us in, those lying bankers. They told us ta ‘go for it’... said expanding our business would make us competitive. We put everything we had into it and piled up a bunch a debt on top. Turns out, big corporate chains was secretly planning to come in. They undercut all our prices. The bank had to know about it. Drove us out. The bank took everything. My diddy got drunk one night and hung himself.”
“I’m really sorry for your loss,” Paul said.
“Appreciate that, sir,” the young man said. He paused. “I apologize. I shouldn’ta dumped my troubles on y’all.”
“Not to worry,” Paul replied.
“I really just wanna ask about shining those nice shoes a yours… two bucks,” the young man said. “That’s what I do now, and I clean the pool at a motel out the highway.”
“Sure,” Paul said. “They need attention.”
Paul surprised the young man with a ten-dollar bill, and gave him the room number where he could pick up the shoes in the corridor overnight.
“I can’t take this, sir,” the man said. He stood. “I told ya, a shine is two bucks. I’ll get y’all some change.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Paul said. “Do you have a few moments? Why don’t you sit back down?”
“Yes sir,” the young man said. “Is there something else I can do for y’all?”
“I’m Paul Winston,” Paul said offering his hand.
“Isaac Dietrich. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Winston.”
“Paul, please.”
“Okay, Paul. What brings ya to our sorry ol’ neck a the woods?” Isaac asked.
“Just visiting for now,” Paul said. “What was your father’s business?”
“A motel and restaurant.”
“Where is it?” Paul asked.
“It was out on the east side of town,” Isaac replied. “Highway 11 West. The bank has it for sale, now. Been like that on and off fer a couple a years now. Bank just reduced the price. Those buggers sold off all of our furniture and supplies for about ten cents on the dollar to our competitors. Good stuff too... top a the line. Damned vultures!”
“What prompted your father to get into the business in the first place?” Paul asked.
“My diddy always said he wanted ta go inta some kinda business,” Isaac replied. “He worked in a motel once and was tired of the crappy wages offered around here. Saved for years to open his motel. Said he wanted somethin’ better for his kids and other folks. Most everyone leaves town soon’s they can. I cain’t now... gotta look after momma and my little sister, since diddy’s gone. So much fer trustin’ people.” Isaac swept a shock of light brown hair back from his eyes. “It’ll cost ya dearly if ya don’t have much to start. It cost us… everythin’, including my diddy’s life!”
“It needn’t be like that,” Paul said.
“Now, that’s mighty easy fer y’all to say,” Isaac said, irritation seeping into his voice. “Looks like y’all kin afford those fancy principles... dressed in yer expensive clothes and shoes, and all.”
“You’re right,” Paul relied. “I’ve been very lucky in my life. I’ve never had to face what you’re going through.”
Isaac looked down at his feet. “Look, sir, I’m mighty sorry. I surely owe you another apology… I was outta line.”
Paul could see Isaac’s tennis shoes were worn and threadbare. The stitching had been repaired by hand in places.
“That was downright rude of me,” Isaac added. “It’s just if I had the money I’d buy that property and make it work. I know I kin do it!”
“No apology needed,” Paul replied. “You said the bank just reduced the price on your dad’s former property?”
“Yeah,” Isaac said. “A second time. It’s down to almost half a what they was originally asking. No one’s dumb enough to open another motel since the Comfort Inn and those other big names came along here. But there are other options.”
“What do you mean?” Paul asked.
“Well now, when we were building it, my diddy had a plan how the business could be expanded someday, or redeveloped for somethin’ other than a motel and restaurant. He thought that it could be made into a retail mini-mall... ya know… and maybe add a few floors or another building for them professional offices. Turn it into a center. The bank foreclosed the moment my diddy fell a coupla months behind on the mortgage. He never got the chance.”
“That’s interesting,” Paul said. “That’s very interesting.”
“If y’all don’t mind, I’ll pick up yer shoes after midnight,” Isaac said. “And I’ll have ‘em back at yer door afore five.”
“Perfect,” Paul said.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Colorado Women’s Correctional Facility
Canon City, CO
“The warden said to give you this here envelope when you’re released, Milliken,” the burly female guard said. “It arrived this morning.”
Her manner was aggressively indifferent as she handed over a firmly sealed brown padded envelope. “So here it is.”
“What is it?” Pamela Milliken said.
“How the hell should I know, Milliken?” the guard shot back. “It’s yours. None of my business now; you’ve been paroled. Get the fuck outta here!”
Pamela walked to the women’s washroom on the public side of the prison exit and locked herself in a stall. Using a nail file returned with her personal possessions, she cut the packing tape
off the end of the 9 x 12 padded envelop.
To her shock, out fell a stack of twenty-dollar bills, then a stack of fifty-dollar bills and another stack... they were one hundred dollar bills! Pamela struggled to take a breath.
What the fuck’s going on? She thought.
She couldn’t find a note. Pamela counted fifty twenties, twenty fifties and thirty hundreds.
Holy shit! She thought, after counting the bills twice. Five thousand bucks! Who the hell would do such a thing? Why?
She couldn’t think of anyone back home who’d have that much money to give away, much less care that much. Nobody.
Pamela was stunned and suspicious as she walked out of the prison into the brilliant sunshine of a Colorado afternoon. She spotted her lawyer’s dilapidated Lincoln Town Car in the parking lot. He was leaning against it smoking a cigarette.
“I came to drive you into town,” said Larry Sutherland.
As they were heading up Highway 50 toward Pueblo, Sutherland glanced over at her and said, “Did they give you any money?”
“Who?” Pamela asked. “The jail?”
“Yeah,” Larry said.
“Y’all must be shittin’ me,” she replied. “I got enough for my smokes and some women’s things. That’s it. I’m broke. Why?”
She lowered the window part way and lit a cigarette. “Y’all want one?” she asked.
“Sure” Sutherland replied.
He took one and lit up, blowing smoke out the half-open driver’s side window. “Look,” he added. “The State paid me bugger-all to represent you through all of those hearings and the trial as your court appointed attorney. I’m outta pocket big time for that and the disciplinary hearing over your fake DNA test. Almost got me disbarred, for Christ’s sake. The friggin’ district attorney’s office says I’ve got all I’m gonna get. You sure you don’t have any money?”
“Hell no!” Pamela replied. “Why the fuck d’ya think I needed a court appointed attorney? And I’d be bussing it into town tonight if y’all hadn’t shown up. Thanks.”
“Well, speaking of that,” Sutherland said. “How about a little trade? There are a few motels on our way. Wadda ya say to a little partying?”
Pamela hesitated.
What the hell! she thought. I’m so horny I’m ready to fuck just about anything, including him. But damned sure I ain’t wasting any of that cash on him. He did a shitty job. Fuck him! Yup... I’m gonna double fuck him.
She smiled to herself at the concept and said, “Maybe we kin work somethin’ out, Larry. What about your wife?”
“What she don’t know won’t hurt her... or me,” he replied.
They both laughed.
“Okay,” Pamela said, smiling to herself. “Why doncha pick up a bottle on the way. I haven’t had a drink in a long, long time. Bourbon, okay?”
“Whatever works for you, babe, works for me,” Sutherland said.
“Don’t y’all be callin’ me babe, ya hear?” she said. “Makes me sound cheap. Name’s Pam.”
Whatever you say... uh, Pam,” he replied. He instinctively almost said “Babe” again. She’s gonna be an expensive piece of ass, he thought. Especially for a cheap broad like her.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Hale Springs Inn
Rogersville, TN
“How would you like to look at a motel today?” Paul said over breakfast.
They’d been in Rogersville two days.
“We’re staying at a really nice one already,” Ahmed replied, a look of amused confusion on his naturally swarthy face. “Aren’t you happy here?”
“I mean one to buy.”
“What? Why?”
“Not sure yet, exactly,” Paul said. “Sooner or later we may need some office space. Maybe we’ll encourage that investor to renovate... hire some local people. What do you think?”
“Sounds like you’ve something in mind,” Ahmed said. “Want to let me in on it?”
“You’ve been researching this area and exploring it in your rental car while I’ve been looking around in mine,” Paul said. “Tell me what you’ve seen, what questions you have.”
“For one thing, most homes around here are run down,” Ahmed replied. “There are some big fancy ones.... just a few. The farms are mostly small and they look really poor. I’m not sure what they’re growing, but they don’t seem to be earning the farmers much. Their cars, machinery, homes, fences, barns and other buildings are all in rough shape. I understand they used to grow tobacco around here in places. That’s gone. There used to be a forestry industry and coal mining years ago. They’re mostly gone too. I’m hearing that big corporations swooped in, took it all for peanuts and left. I feel badly for these folks. Do you really think we can do something to make a difference?”
“We’ll see,” Paul said. “That’s a very good overview. Thank you. It squares with my own observations.”
Paul spotted Isaac walking through the lobby. He waved him over.
“How’re y’all doin’ today, Mr. Winston,” Isaac said. He’d been picking up, polishing and delivering Paul’s shoes each day, despite his protests that the shoes didn’t need all that much attention. Tucked into the toe each night was a folded ten-dollar bill.
“My name’s Paul, remember?”
“Oh yeah, Paul,” Isaac said. He smiled. “I forgot.”
“This is Ahmed Mousavi,” Paul said. “Ahmed’s a friend of mine.”
Ahmed stood.
“Pleased to meet y’all, Ahmed,” Isaac said. The two young men shook hands.
“Do you have time to join us?” Paul asked.
“Would that be okay?” Isaac said.
“Why not?” Paul asked.
“Well, y’all are guests here,” Isaac said. “And y’all look kinda rich. I’m outta place.”
“You’re our guest,” Paul said.
Ahmed laughed.
“Rich?” he said. “That wouldn’t be me. I’m just a starving university student. Come sit. Have a coffee.”
Paul smiled and pointed toward an empty chair at the table.
“Appreciate that,” Isaac said, sitting down. “I’ve a few minutes. I’m due soon to be cleanin’ the pool at the motel out on the highway. I’m a bit early.”
“Good,” Paul said. “Glad you could join us.”
“Y’all still going to school?” Isaac said with surprise, turning to Ahmed. “Really?”
“Yes,” Ahmed said. “I’m studying economics and mathematics online.”
“Oh wow!” Isaac said. “Math was my best subject, before I had to quit.”
“When was that?” Paul asked.
“Eight years ago. I was in ninth grade. My diddy needed help with the motel. The teacher was pretty upset. My parents told him that folks around here don’t need much more than reading and writing... that’s usually eighth grade, tho it’s changin’ a bit nowadays.”
“Sounds like you know how to build things,” Paul said.
“Oh yeah,” Isaac said. “I really like it. I’ve built a few home extensions, garages, lots of sheds, and a few barns. It comes naturally to me. Maybe I’ll start a construction company someday, if I ever save enough money.”
“You speak like someone who’s better educated than the eighth grade,” Paul said.
“Yeah, sorta. I’ve read a whole bunch a books, professional magazines, and academic journals,” Isaac said. “I’ve lots of time for that. My old teacher... he loans ‘em to me... even now. And he teaches me things. I think sometimes he buys books and magazines just so he can loan them to me. Never wants them back.”
“He sounds like an interesting man,” Paul said. “I’d like to meet him while we’re here.”
“Mr. Spencer’s retired now... lives outta town,” Isaac said. “He has a small farm... lives alone. His wife died a few years back. I can take y’all ta see him if y’all’d like that.”
“We’d like that very much,” Paul said, looking at Ahmed.
Ahmed nodded.
“H
ow long are you gonna be here?” Isaac said.
“A few more days,” Paul said.
“We could go out there tomorrow,” Isaac said. “I’ve nothin’ else to do. I kin call him.”
“Sure,” Paul said. “How about we meet here tomorrow morning for breakfast and then go?”
“See y’all then,” Isaac said. He stood and hurried out.
***
The Next Day
Near Rogersville
“Thanks for showing us around,” Paul said. “That’s an impressive forestry experiment you have under way. Do you mind telling me your long-range goals?”
“Sure,” George Spencer replied. “A lumber industry.”
Paul couldn’t resist raising his eyebrows in surprise.
“Seriously,” George said, smiling. “I’ve proven to myself, on paper at least, that it’s viable if we go about it the right way.”
“Just how would you go about it?” Paul asked.
“I’d need to grow the right trees on a large scale,” George replied. “Conifers... softwood lumber... the kind used for construction. That involves three elements: a lot of land, a lot of time, and a lot of money.”
“Do you have a plan?” Paul asked.
“Yes and no,” George said. “Yes I have a plan. Started it years ago while doing my PhD in mathematics. It’s been updated many times; just finishing the latest. But it’s not going anywhere… it’s a dream. Hey, I live on a small teacher’s pension. What I have in mind requires a huge investment. I don’t have that kind of money and none of my fellow farmers do either. But it’s good to have dreams.”
“Yeah, I know why there’s no money,” Isaac said.
George held up his hands as if to stop what Isaac would say next.
“Paul should know,” Isaac said, ignoring George. He turned to Paul. “There’s a really good reason why Mr. Spencer is short a money. It was common knowledge in scole that he paid for textbooks and even scribblers and pens for kids whose parents couldn’t afford them. Mine too. Sometimes that meant more than half the class! It went on fer years. I told y’all he still buys books to ‘loan me’. He knows I can’t afford them.”
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