“And do you know Mark Schmidt?”
“Um, I’m not sure,” Rick answered.
“Well, I have a traffic cam picture of you two,” Murphy said as he slipped the picture in front of Rick and his attorney, who both looked slightly uncomfortable.
“Oh him, yes, Mark, right. Didn’t remember his last name. He was checking up on John about some business deal. Wanted to make sure John was on the up and up.”
“And was Ron with you in the back seat?” Murphy asked.
Rick hesitated, looking at his attorney, who seemed to move his head ever so slightly sideways, then Rick said. “I don’t recall.”
“So, you’re trying to tell me that Mark came all the way out to Whitefish to do a reference check with you? Seems like that would be a pretty unusual thing and that you would remember who was there at the time,” Murphy asked, feeling that he had Rick on the ropes.
“You would have to ask Mark why he was there and . . .”
Rick’s attorney jumped in “. . . and Mr. Sparks has already told you that he doesn’t recall if his brother was with him.”
“Fine,” Murphy said turning back toward Rick. “Do you know John DeFallo?”
“Of course. We go way back. High school,” Rick said.
“When did you see him or talk to him last?” Murphy asked.
“This spring, toward the end of the ski season. I’ve been told it was a few days or so after this George fella died,” Rick said.
Doug jumped in, sensing an opportunity and proceeding in his normal bulldog-like fashion. “Did you see or talk to John just prior to the murder? Did you talk about killing George?”
Rick was startled by the voice coming over the phone and then glared at the phone as he answered, “No, I’m sure that I hadn’t talked to John in months, but maybe my brother had.”
“So you’re saying that maybe Ron had talked to John about killing George?” Doug asked.
“Hell, no. Just saying that he was closer to him, that’s all. They talked every once in a while. Maybe even from my cell phone. Ron and I are often together, and sometimes he forgets his cell phone and uses mine.
That would explain a call to John on my cell, if there is any,” Rick said and again looked to his attorney for approval.
Doug was getting frustrated and thought the only way to get anywhere was to catch one of the brothers off guard. He wanted to focus on the original meeting with George. “You say you actually met George but don’t remember where? That’s pretty hard to believe. George was killed by someone left handed since the right side of his head was caved in. I can tell by the way you are drinking your water that you’re left handed. You killed George Shannon, didn’t you?”
Rick’s attorney jumped in. “Since Mr. Sparks hasn’t been charged, we feel that he has been more than cooperative here today, and you can either talk to Ron now or all three of us will be leaving.”
As his attorney jousted with Doug, Rick’s mind flashed to a vivid image of George from that day, standing in front of him, ready to absorb a fatal blow. Then, with the side of his head crushed just after Rick hit him, he remembered watching George grimly struggle to stay conscious, arms and feet buckling, with the emotionless look of a dying antelope in the crushing jaws of a lion. Maybe part of him wanted to live, but it looked clear to Rick that he was okay if he didn’t. He then pictured George laying still for a second on the ground but being shocked and unnerved when he convulsed like a freshly caught fish flopping on a pier. Rick had replayed the images in his head each day since the murder.
“Before you go, can I say one more thing?” Rick asked.
His attorney nodded yes, knowing full well what was coming next. “You see, one of your questions asked about my brother, and I don’t want you thinking for a minute that I would roll over on him, even if he did something wrong. We are all each other has had through our whole lives. From baby daddies beating us, to juvie, jail, prison and every other stop along the way. I’d rather go back to prison than roll on my brother, and you can bet your life on that. And I’ll bet my life that my brother would do the same for me.” Rick finished and all except him left the room.
Ron gave a similar performance during his interview. He acknowledged his conversations with John, but he did not confess to knowing Mark. Unless they could find admissible evidence that the two had lied, Doug and Kyle had little hope of breaking either brother. Even if evidence pointed to one, the other would probably admit that they did it just to create reasonable doubt if it ever went to trial. Rick would likely say that Mark put them up to the murder, and Ron could potentially indicate it was John. On top of everything else, the attorney for the brothers handed the police in Whitefish a copy of the motion that they were filing to have the traffic cam footage and the ski tag scans thrown out as inadmissible because they were obtained without a warrant. Given the lengths that Kyle had gone to find the information, there was little doubt that the evidence would never see a courtroom.
Doug pushed himself away from the table, convinced that neither brother would ever flip on the other. It would be far more likely to get John or Mark to roll, but that was only if John lived. If he didn’t, or wasn’t involved, Mark would have little reason to cooperate and would likely soon know that key evidence against him would be inadmissible. Doug knew in his gut that Mark was somehow involved in George’s death, or maybe even John’s, but there was likely nothing that he could do to prove it.
51
Tommy was sure that all he and Pat needed to do to get out of this mess was to get out of the carbon business. He knew Doug wasn’t going to pursue the murder charges, so all that remained for Tommy and Pat were Kyle and market charges. Mark couldn’t afford to let that investigation linger. A second scandal was more than the market could handle. Mark had an industry and what now looked like hundreds of millions of dollars in McKinstry stock to protect. That was plenty of motivation and the resources to do just about anything to hold the market together and keep another scandal from surfacing. Pat would need to unwind the business and its holdings, but he was going to do that anyway. Easier for Kyle and others to put this behind them if Pat and Tommy weren’t around. Mark would be on the phone in no time with Pat, working out a deal to buy all of the carbon offsets he owned. All Tommy needed to do was say the word.
If they were unlikely to get a conviction, Kyle and his bosses, along with Mark and everyone else involved in the carbon markets would want everything to be orderly. No need to spook or antagonize the market into large price swings. If all of this worked out, the industry would be indebted to Mark.
It irritated Tommy to think about that as the Hiawatha Amtrak headed north out of Chicago. Mark, the ultimate hero, even though he should be held accountable for whatever he had done wrong. It just didn’t seem fair. Tommy thought about it some more as the Chicago urban sprawl faded and eventually turned to Milwaukee urban sprawl.
Then again, what did he know for sure that Mark had done? Only that he facilitated a meeting that ended up with George dead. Getting the insurance money was the only way that George knew of to help his family and orchestrating the false trades was his way to get back at Tommy and John. Even if he told the police the story, there was no way he could prove it. And who would believe him anyway?
Tommy confused himself more with each passing mile. Maybe Mark killed John. John’s money was already gone, and Mark had come out on top, but maybe he needed a scapegoat, or maybe John knew too much. If Mark was RD he couldn’t afford to let John talk.
Tommy kept thinking back to the woman with John in Susan’s law office who Susan had told Tommy about. He was paranoid at the time, and maybe rightfully. Was RD that woman? If so, Deb, Susan, and Barbara were the only women close to this whole ordeal to have been involved. Tommy didn’t think Susan could be that vindictive. Deb wasn’t involved enough in the business, nor did she have the resources to pull something like this off. Barbara had the resources but didn’t need to get her hands dirty with this whole mess. How
ever, she certainly could be manipulating Mark.
Tommy wasn’t used to not having the answers, and he knew the truth was out there . . . somewhere. Thinking about it more, Tommy realized that if John died, Mark might be the only person left alive who knew who RD was, and he seemed truly afraid of something or someone when they were talking in the hospital. All of this was getting Tommy nowhere, and he knew that none of it would help the police.
Tommy knew that George had orchestrated the false trades and was probably working with RD. Presumably RD needed money to put the hedge in place, but why turn to John of all people? Maybe he was the only one who knew enough and had enough money to pull it off. It was all so bizarre. Tommy knew it would all finally make sense if he knew who the hell RD was.
It was shortly before the train arrived in Milwaukee when Tommy’s phone buzzed with a text from Mark. It read, “John just died. Time to let go and move on with your life.”
Tommy turned away from the text and was once again staring out the train window. Tommy believed Mark and thus had convinced himself that RD had killed John and was blackmailing Mark because of his involvement in George’s death. Even if he was wrong, it didn’t seem to matter anymore, and if he kept looking, he could end up dead, too.
The danger was pervasive, and the worst part was that he didn’t know where it was coming from.
By the time the train was wobbling down the last big turn in the tracks and into the station, Tommy knew he had no real choice. He had to let it go. Mark would have McKinstry buy all of Pat’s credits and walk him through everything to get Pat his newfound wealth and get him out of the carbon markets forever. Tommy wouldn’t end up in prison, and most importantly, he’d at least have a shot, he thought, with Jenny. He knew that if he went after Mark or RD, she would never forgive him.
Tommy headed out of the train station, walking east with the late afternoon sun warming the back of his neck and ears. As he walked, he dialed Mark’s private cell number. After only one ring, Mark picked up.
“Have you decided? Are you moving on?” Mark said breathlessly without offering a ‘hello’ or waiting for a word from Tommy.
“Yes,” was all Tommy said, and he hung up the phone.
Tommy texted Pat and simply said, It’s over. Mark will help cash you out. Tommy figured it would be a couple of days before Mark and Pat wrapped up the details, and Pat would surely be back home as soon as he could, on his way to being the wealthiest man in a little town that was, in many other ways, already his—and Jenny’s.
Tommy needed to go for a run, have a good meal, a restful night’s sleep, hopefully, and Jenny needed some warning before he was back in town. It gave him time to think about what was next. From the time he saw Jenny in the upstairs bedroom at Pat and Mary’s house, he had hoped for an opportunity to really show Jenny how he felt, especially now that he realized that he had buried his feelings for all of these years.
That need was clear, but living in his little hometown for the rest of his life wasn’t. Tommy was committed to finding a way to make it work with Jenny, and he thought that was all that really mattered.
Sleep eluded him again. If Mark was wrong, and John’s death ended up being a suicide, that would hang over Tommy’s head forever, and if Jenny had a role it in and found out, she would be devastated. In a perverse and selfish way, he almost hoped that it turned out to be murder. That would be easier to live with. Then he would only have to wrestle with the other aspects of what he did that directly or indirectly hurt other people, including John. Was it really fair to abuse his market ban for what he thought was right? The answers he was giving himself weren’t helping.
They lingered and festered in his mind like open blisters, oozing. And if losing all that money wasn’t bad enough, he thought about all the other things that he could have done differently. He couldn’t stop seeing John’s face when he closed his eyes. He knew it might be a very, very long time before he got another good night’s sleep.
Night forced a change in the weather that brought a glimpse of fall. Tommy knew he would have two perfect days to start the process of making things right with Jenny. He was surprised they even had a convertible at the rental counter, so when offered, he couldn’t pass it up.
Perhaps the wind would help clear the fog that a restless night’s sleep had left behind. The dry air made it feel cooler than it was as Tommy headed north out of Milwaukee.
Jenny agreed to meet Tommy for a walk before lunch. She was about as anxious to see Tommy as he was to see her. They walked the beach north of town. Sandwiched between sixty-foot cliffs and the lake, they felt isolated, even though homes lurked above and just beyond their view.
Tommy started, “It’s over, Jenny. The whole mess is behind us. Pat’s coming home a very rich man, and neither of us will be seeing the inside of a prison.”
“I’m thrilled . . . and relieved!” Jenny said, “Now Mary and I won’t need to kill you.”
“I appreciate that,” Tommy said.
“What about John and Mark?” Jenny asked.
“Mark has his work cut out for him to stay out of prison, but he’s pretty resourceful.” Tommy paused, “John on the other hand? I don’t know quite how to say this other than bluntly. He’s dead.”
“Oh, my god! What happened?” Jenny asked, her face contorting with fear.
“A car accident that, in all honesty, was probably murder,” Tommy said. “Who? How? Was it because of what I . . . what he did that day after we saw him in the park?” Jenny asked, fumbling her words, confusing Tommy.
“What did you do, Jenny?” Tommy asked, remembering that neither he nor Pat saw her that night, and they knew she would do almost anything it took to help.
“Nothing. Just tell me why you think he got killed or who did it.”
“Probably by his partner in Big Mountain Traders. It didn’t have anything to do with that night, but do you want to tell me what happened?” Tommy asked.
Jenny looked relieved, and then said, “No. I don’t want to talk about it. I will never want to talk about it. If you really love me, not knowing is something that you are going to have to accept.”
Tommy wanted desperately to know what she did with John. Did she drug him or sleep with him? It took everything he had not to ask more, and he could tell that Jenny would not answer anyway. He changed the subject, “I love being by the water. I can’t imagine living where I couldn’t see it every day. It lets me know that I’m not surrounded by people.”
“Not surprised,” Jenny said, happy Tommy had let go, but struggling to regain her composure. “Remember when we used to sit out behind the Memorial Union in college, staring at the lake?”
“Yeah, we talked for hours. You and Pat are the only two people I have ever talked to for that long and at that level.”
“In all these years, no one? Not once?” Jenny asked.
“Not even close. Not friends or girlfriends, not my mom, and certainly not my step dad,” lamented Tommy.
“I feel bad for you.”
“Don’t. I really didn’t miss it. I mean, I can’t ever see doing it again with anyone other than the two of you.”
Jenny was uncomfortable with where Tommy might try to take the conversation and tried to make light of his comment. “You probably only liked it because we were high half of the time we had those talks!”
Tommy laughed. “That may have helped me open up a bit, I’ve got to admit, but it’s not like we got messed up very often.”
“True,” Jenny agreed, “but remember the time we hauled your entire living room out onto Bascom Hill and sat there watching TV?”
“Yeah, we thought we were like art, or a statement, or something,” reminisced Tommy.
“Or something seems most accurate, looking back on it,” Jenny said.
“Do you remember what else happened that next day?”
Tommy thought for a bit, then his shoulders slumped. He remembered kissing Jenny goodbye as he was leaving for a month in Europe. Goodbye w
as supposed to be for that month, but it turned into many months, and then, years. Eventually, Tommy was too embarrassed to make contact, and Jenny was too proud.
“I’m so sorry I never came back,” Tommy finally said.
They looked at each other with tear-welled eyes, both overwhelmed with thoughts about what they had missed. The two walked together comfortably, quietly, knowing that they didn’t need to speak to share this moment.
When they got back to town they decided to have a sandwich at a local bar. Both ordered chicken sandwiches and iced tea and took their drinks to a small, circular table. “So, do you want to do something together this afternoon?” Tommy asked.
“Well, I would, but I have plans,” Jenny said.
Not wanting to be presumptuous or demanding yet again, Tommy said, “Okay, I know that you need your space, but what can I do to prove that you are my priority? That I want to be with you, here, now?”
“You have to do more than say it, so there’s nothing else you can do today. Let’s just enjoy our lunch and talk. I’m free all tomorrow afternoon if you’re interested,” Jenny offered.
Tommy wanted to say, ‘What the hell do I do in this town until then?’ but opted for, “That’s great. I’ll pick you up after lunch if that’s okay.”
“It’s a date,” Jenny smirked. She finished her sandwich, gave Tommy a kiss on the cheek and was off.
Tommy decided to visit Mary in the afternoon. He could tell she was relieved that things were over in Chicago, excited that Pat was coming home soon, but Tommy didn’t think that she had much of an idea about how wealthy a woman she was. Or, then he realized, she probably just didn’t care.
After seeing Mary, Tommy checked into a little bed and breakfast and prepaid for a week. He would take Jenny’s advice and get to know the town. He turned in his rental car and bought a used moped from a guy two doors down from Mary and Pat. He spent the rest of the day motoring around town and in and out of just about every restaurant and coffee shop. He waved to the old man he had met on his first visit back to town and nodded to one of Pat’s daughters and her other friends. He was always drawn to stop and talk to them but as had become his custom, fought off the urge, figuring the kids had no interest in talking to a weird guy who was putzing around town.
The Squeeze Page 28