“Really? You want to go to a deserted flour mill to meet with a bunch of psychos out of curiosity?”
“I’m leaving in five minutes.” He gave me an address and hung up.
“You’re not going out there with those crazy people, are you?” Paula asked.
“Fred’s going to be there.”
She shook her head. “I really don’t think either one of you should go.”
“I have to.” I told her about Rick’s hidden bank account, his purchase of all the properties in the vicinity of the flour mill and his plans to build a shopping center.
“I knew there had to be money or a woman involved for him to finally agree to your divorce,” she said. “Or both.”
I’d already told her what Trent had said the night before about Rick’s latest and last girlfriend being married to somebody big.
“If only he’d died a couple of hours later, we could have been divorced and none of this would matter.”
“But you weren’t, and it does. Be careful. I don’t trust Rick or any of his family and certainly not that creepy Bryan Kollar.”
“Who knew Rick could cause as many problems dead as when he was alive?”
On my way out the door I grabbed a couple of Cookie Dough Cheesecake Bars. If Bryan Kollar gave me any grief, I could always hold them up in the form of a cross. With his aversion to chocolate and sugar, that should keep him at bay. As for Rick’s rude relations, I wasn’t sure anything could stop them, not even holy water.
Chapter Twelve
The Kollar Flour Mill was north of Kansas City in a desolate area not far from the banks of the Missouri River. In the early years of the twentieth century, it was probably a booming region, but that was a hundred years ago when the river was the major transportation route. Now we had a system of major highways, none close. To get to the place, I had to travel several miles along a rutted dirt road, passing a couple of other crumbling buildings surrounded by trees and brush. I supposed those were also properties owned by Rick’s estate, but nobody was trying to get them back.
The old mill was surrounded by a relatively clear area, relatively being the key word. Weeds grew thick and healthy, but only a few scrubby trees thrust up amongst the weeds as opposed to the large trees and dense brush in the rest of the area. I wondered briefly if enough flour had escaped from the mill to retard the growth of vegetation in the immediate area.
Nah, that didn’t seem likely considering what a beneficial effect flour had on my desserts.
I pulled up and parked in the weeds next to Marissa and Grace’s cars. Too bad they’d got there before me. I’d have liked to see them tripping through the weeds in their four-inch heels. Neither Bryan nor Fred had arrived. No surprise that Fred hadn’t. As slow as he drove, the meeting could be over and all of us home in bed before he got there.
I had no desire to hurry inside and listen to Marissa and Grace hurl insults at each other, so I sat in my car listening to country music and waited for somebody else to arrive. Prior to meeting those two women, I would have said there’s nothing like a good cat fight for entertainment, but the reality did not live up to the hype.
As I looked around the place, I had a hard time visualizing a shopping center with hundreds of people dashing from store to store. The only creatures dashing around at that moment were probably mice and spiders. Maybe a few snakes. What did Rick know that made him think this area could be renovated and profitable, so profitable he wanted to be sure I didn’t stand a chance of getting part of those profits?
A few minutes later Bryan pulled up in a Jeep. He got out wearing jeans and sturdy boots. He’d been to the place before, knew what to expect.
I was torn between going in with Bryan or waiting for Fred to get there so I could see how freaked out he would be about the dust that was going to settle on his pristine car and all the weeds that would be touching it. I finally decided to go in with Bryan. I didn’t want to miss the hoopla that was bound to occur when he met Grace and she pressed her claim. I slid out of my car and moved up beside him.
“Lindsay, I didn’t expect to see you here.” He gave me his television commercial smile though he looked confused.
“I wouldn’t want to miss it.” I gave him a bared-to-the-molars smile. I didn’t want to tell him anything and ruin the surprise, so I just kept walking toward the building.
The door hung open, dangling on one rusted hinge, and I could hear Marissa and Grace sniping at each other even before I saw them in the dim interior.
“Ladies,” I shouted, “Bryan’s here!”
Marissa met him at the door and flung herself into his arms, giving him a passionate kiss. He returned her embrace.
Who’s scamming who?
I walked inside and looked around the abandoned structure. It was a large building erected of rough timbers, several of which had rotted and fallen away leaving holes in the walls and ceiling. At the rear of the building a ladder with at least half the rungs broken led to the remnants of a storage area upstairs. Spider webs decorated the walls and ceiling, and a barn swallow darted about in the rafters. It wouldn’t surprise me if what was left of the roof collapsed at any moment.
Other than dust and leaves, the building was empty. I’d expected remnants of antique equipment, but that had probably been sold off or stolen a long time ago.
Rickie stood in one corner kicking the wall, gradually making one of the holes larger.
Bryan expected me to believe his parents wanted this place for sentimental reasons? Really?
If four scam artists—Rick, Bryan, Marissa and Grace—wanted it, there had to be money involved. A lot of money.
“Sweetheart,” Bryan said, pulling away from Marissa but still holding her in his embrace, “I thought this was going to be a business meeting between you and me.”
Grace strode over, cocked a hip and fisted her hand on it. “I hope you and this old woman weren’t planning to talk business about my son’s inheritance.”
Bryan’s smile remained in place even though he was obviously confused. “Who are you? Who is your son and what is he going to inherit?”
“I’m Grace Ganyon, and that boy over there is Rick’s only child. He’s going to inherit all his father’s property, including this dump, so if you want to bargain about what happens to it, you need to talk to me, not her.”
Marissa kept her arm firmly wrapped around Bryan’s neck. “Pay no attention to that silly woman. She’s been trying to pass that boy off as Rick’s for years, but nobody believes her.”
Bryan’s gaze shifted from Marissa to Grace to Rickie then to me. “Is that Rick’s son?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. We’re going to get a DNA test and find out.”
“What?” Grace shrieked, stomping over to get in my face. “You want to make Rick’s son take some kind of painful test?”
“It’s not painful, and we won’t know if we’re testing Rick’s son until the results come back.”
She became the sad, pitiful mother again. “Poor Rickie. All his life he’s had to deal with his father not claiming him, and now you want to put him through this.”
I looked to the corner where Rickie had ceased kicking the wall and was carving something in the wood with a broken piece of glass. Poor Rickie.
“He’d have been worse off if Rick had claimed him,” I assured her.
Bryan looked completely confused. Couldn’t blame the man. He’d had no idea there was going to be a party.
“Good afternoon.”
I turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Fred stood in the open doorway wearing a dark suit and conservative tie. “Fred Sommers,” he said, extending a hand to Bryan.
Kollar blinked a couple of times, released Marissa and shook Fred’s hand though without his usual enthusiasm. His perpetual smile had faded. “Bryan Kollar.” He dropped Fred’s hand and turned to Marissa. “What’s going on? You insisted on seeing the property before you’d make a deal, but you didn’t say anything about bringing all the
se people.”
“I didn’t bring them,” Marissa protested. Despite her best efforts to look beautiful, self-possessed and unfazed, her jaw was clenched and her pouty lips scrunched into a thin line.
“I’m here on Ms. Powell’s behalf.” Fred moved past the lovers and came to stand beside me. “Information has recently come to my attention that this property in which we are currently situated was purchased by the deceased from monies that were community property though such funds were secreted from my client in an attempt to conceal such real property from his legal spouse, Ms. Powell.”
I suppressed a laugh, but Bryan, Marissa and Grace stared at Fred in bewilderment tinged with a slight awe. I had to give him credit. He is good at the baffle them with bullshit thing. Only Rickie, over in the corner torturing a spider, was unimpressed. The evidence was building that he could be Rick’s son.
“No.” Grace gaped at Fred. “That’s…that’s not right…what are you saying?”
“I thought—” Bryan gave a weak wave in Marissa’s direction then looked at Grace. “But she said that kid…”
“If you intend to regain possession of the property in question in order to negotiate a larger profit margin upon completion of the shopping mall project, Mr. Kollar, that may not be an option since Rick owns the other properties around here and you could be subject to eminent domain.” Not exactly a lie since he said could instead of will. I could probably hone my lying skills by listening to Fred.
Bryan’s eyes were glazed. “What? Shopping mall? What shopping mall?”
Fred looked smug as if he’d just conned a piece of information out of Bryan. Of course, Fred usually looked smug so it was hard to be sure. “Are you saying you’re not trying to get this property back so you can sell it for a larger profit when the shopping mall goes in here, Mr. Kollar?”
Bryan turned pale beneath his perfect tan. “Shopping mall? Here?”
Marissa smiled benignly, dollar signs appearing in her eyes. “Shopping mall. So that’s what Rick was up to. That’s what his big deal was.”
Grace’s jaw dropped, but then she recovered herself. “A whole shopping center?” A wide smile spread across her face. “A whole shopping center for my son.”
“No,” Bryan said, visibly attempting to recover his composure. “This place has been in my family for generations. Nobody’s tearing it down to build a shopping center.”
Fred folded his arms and looked extremely official. “That’s out of your hands, Mr. Kollar. You no longer own the property.”
Bryan Kollar, Mr. Body Beautiful with the seductive voice and perennial smile who charmed the entire city, men and women alike, was losing his cool. The famous sculptured jawline clenched. His gaze slid around the room from Fred to Marissa then to Grace, Rickie, me and back to Fred. “My family owns this place. Rick Kramer scammed my parents out of it, and I want it back.”
Marissa stepped up and took his arm. “This is all a silly little legal technicality. Let’s go somewhere alone.” She glared at Grace and me. “Between the two of us, we can sort this out.”
Bryan let her lead him toward the entrance.
Grace turned to her son. “Rickie, say good-bye to the nice man.”
Rickie dropped his stick and ran toward Bryan Kollar, grabbing his leg before he could get out of the way. “Did you kill my daddy?”
Kid had a limited repertoire of accusations.
Bryan stood rooted to the spot, looking down at the psycho kid in astonishment. I knew exactly how he felt.
Marissa pried the kid’s fingers loose, tugged on Bryan’s arm, and the two of them headed out the door.
“Are we finished here?” I asked Fred. “Can we leave now?”
“You can. I want to look around.”
Rickie charged over to Fred and grabbed his arm. “Did you kill my daddy?”
Fred looked down at him and Rickie stepped back. Nobody is impervious to Fred’s glare. “No, but I thought about it,” he said. “Would you like a piece of bubble gum?” Fred produced a colorful paper-wrapped object from his jacket pocket and presented it to Rickie.
The boy grabbed it, ripped off the paper and began to chew.
“What do you say to the nice man?” Grace prompted.
Rickie scrunched up his face and spit out the gum. “That sucks,” he said.
I wasn’t sure if Grace had meant for him to say thank you or if that sucks was another of the cute little phrases she’d taught the boy.
Grace glared at Fred then turned to her son. “Let’s go.” They hurried out of the building.
“That went well,” I said sarcastically.
“Actually, it did. We found out Bryan Kollar didn’t know about the shopping mall venture, but there’s something here that’s worth a lot of money to him.”
I looked around the ramshackle structure. “Just offhand, I’d say it’s not the building itself.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He produced a plastic bag, leaned down and picked up the wad of chewing gum Rickie had spit out.
I threw my arms into the air. “I do not believe you’re picking up a piece of gum off this filthy floor. Please tell me you’re not planning to clean the entire place before we leave. I’m not sweeping.”
Fred put the gum into his jacket pocket.
I gaped at him in amazement. “I’m hallucinating. The man who wears rubber gloves to take a shower did not just put a used piece of gum in his pocket.”
“How did you know about the gloves?” He was teasing me. I’m pretty sure of it. “You could say I put a used piece of gum in my pocket, or you could say I just stored a sample of Rickie’s DNA in my pocket.”
Chapter Thirteen
I expected to get home before Fred because I drive faster, but I had time to feed Henry, let him out, take a shower, make plans with Trent for the evening and mix up a fresh batch of cookie dough before Fred finally drove into his garage. I noticed that his car was once again clean and shiny. A car wash would explain some of the time lapse. I knew all that dust would freak him out.
I went to his house and knocked on his front door.
He opened the door and looked over my shoulder. “Are you alone?”
“Of course I’m alone. Why would you ask such a question?”
“You so rarely are these days.”
I couldn’t deny that. “For the moment, I’m alone.”
“Come on in.”
I entered Fred’s house and went to sit on the dark green leather sofa. “The good news is, I think my career as the manager of a B&B is over. Rick’s relations have his house and each other to wreak havoc on. Trent’s coming over later, and we expect to have a nice Friday night alone.” I got a little thrill just thinking about our first night together.
Fred took off his jacket and settled into his recliner. “A word of advice, don’t answer your door or your phone for anybody except me.”
“Got it. And you don’t call unless you’re dying,” I warned. After all this time and anticipation, I wasn’t about to have the evening interrupted by anything less than a huge emergency.
“Not even if I have the results of Rickie’s DNA test?”
I looked at him dubiously. “Can you get results that fast?”
He shrugged. “Probably not. But I told my friend to put a rush on it.”
“You’ve already dropped that gum off?”
“Of course.”
“With a friend?”
“Yes.”
“You have another friend besides me?” I was only half-teasing. Fred never talks about his past, and nobody ever comes to visit him except Paula and me. At least, nobody that I know of. He could have a secret tunnel leading to his house that only his best friends get to use.
Nah. I’m his best friend.
“I do have other friends, but none like you.”
I wasn’t sure how he meant that, but decided to take it as confirmation of my status as his best friend. “So what do you think makes the old flour mill so important to Bryan Kollar if h
e didn’t already know about the plans for a shopping center?”
“At the current time, I don’t have the answer to that question.”
“But you have some ideas,” I prompted. I felt certain he had a whole list of possibilities.
He shook his head. “I don’t have enough data to speculate.”
“You could make a SWAG.” Fred’s SWAGs (Some Wild-Assed Guess) are usually more accurate than most people’s well-researched opinions.
“I could, but I won’t. I’m going to spend the evening gathering more data. Did you ever find out the name of Rick’s girlfriend who was in the explosion with him?”
I sighed. “Trent’s so close-mouthed about all that cop stuff. You could hack into the police computer and get the name.”
“Honestly, Lindsay, some of the things you expect me to do just amaze me.”
But he didn’t say he wouldn’t.
“I’m making some fresh cookies. Come on over and have a few. The massive quantities of sugar will keep you awake all night so you can find some answers.”
“Thank you, but you and Trent should have the entire evening alone.”
I rose from the sofa. “If you change your mind, we still have a few hours before the alone part becomes critical.”
“Are you going to wear those clothes?”
I looked down at my best jeans and red shirt. “Not all night.”
“The gray silk blouse and matching slacks your mother gave you for Christmas might be more appealing.”
I’d shoved those clothes in the back of my closet and forgotten about them. How did Fred even know I had them?
X-ray vision.
“I’ll think about it.”
*~*~*
Fred’s rarely wrong, so I dragged out the clothes my mother gave me and put them on. Then, while I was thinking about her, I phoned her just to be certain she didn’t call during the evening and interrupt me while I was wearing…or not wearing…those clothes she gave me.
“Are you on that cell phone?” she asked immediately.
Damn. I forgot about caller ID. “Yes, but it’s okay. You won’t be getting any of those evil signals in your brain, just me, and my brain’s already doomed.”
Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 03 - The Great Chocolate Scam Page 8