“But why would you let us be part of the story’s conclusion?”
“Simple. This began as a Colorado story, so your readers will want to know how it turned out. It doesn’t hurt my business at all to cut you in on it. Also, you have web producers and other forms of tech support that I lack. Let me tell you my tentative plan. If you see room for improvement, please chime in.”
When he was done, Jenkinson said, “That’s a great plan. I’d love to be part of it. I’ll drive to Topeka Friday to help you set it in motion.”
After Emery ended the call, Carol handed him two sheets of paper she’d dug out of his tech bag – the Colby Police Department’s report on the assault of Ferdinand and Severine Cannon.
“As I thought, this report doesn’t mention Kan-Tel,” he said. “I was worried I’d overlooked it in my earlier research.”
“The Cannons were afraid for their lives, so they probably left the reference out on purpose. They didn’t want the goons coming after them.”
He nodded. “That’s right, but the omission means we have only her word he worked for Kan-Tel and that Kan-Tel sent the goons.”
“Maybe there was a news story about the incident,” Carol said.
“Good idea.” He logged onto his news library service and located the electronic archives for the Colby Independent. He called up the 12 issues published during June 2008 and struck gold on the fifth one. The newspaper’s story on the assault was based primarily on the police report. The reporter, Rocky Starling, noted that after their beatings, the Cannons received outpatient medical treatment, then left town. They couldn’t be reached for comment. Starling also noted that Ferdy Cannon “was the regional manager for the Kan-Tel Co., but has apparently left that job. Spokeswoman Gloria Munday said Kan-Tel expects to appoint a replacement soon.”
Emery read that section aloud to Carol. “God save us from insufficiently curious reporters. Apparently this guy didn’t think it strange that one of the town’s leading businessmen just sort of disappeared after getting beaten up.”
She kissed his cheek. “They can’t all be as thorough and relentless as you are, Joe.”
Gloria Munday called Emery at noon and demanded that they meet in person.
“What about?”
“That Cannon woman’s libelous comment about me and my client on your blog. I want to give you the chance to talk me out of a defamation suit.”
“Empty threat,” he said. Carol was looking questioningly at him. “Let me put you on hold a sec, Gloria.”
He touched the hold button and explained the situation to Carol.
“Sounds like needless danger to me,” she said.
“Normally, you’d be right. The woman’s even more of a snake than Schroeder. But – but – she tends to talk too much. That’s the 411 on her at the Capitol. I could record the session. Maybe we’d get some useful audio on Kan-Tel.”
“You pick the meeting place,” she said. “Make sure it’s safe, with lots of people around. I’ll go with you to watch your back. We can ask the boys to go, too.”
“Sounds good.” He punched the hold button. “Gloria? Meet me at 2 in the riverside mall in downtown Lawrence. I’ll be on the west-side mezzanine.”
Gloria Munday leveled her breasts at Emery like heavy artillery. “You’re trying to ruin my livelihood,” she hissed as he walked up to her. “You’ll get yours for attacking my reputation.”
“Don’t threaten me,” Emery said. “I have back-up.”
Attired in a tan wool herringbone suit with matching pumps, Munday scanned the upper and lower levels. She smiled but her blue eyes remained icy. “I doubt that, Joe. But relax. You're in no danger.”
Emery took a 360 of the scene, worrying that his choice of a meeting space was less than ideal. There were few shoppers around. A man in a blue suit, apparently drunk, was staggering along the mezzanine a dozen yards away. Juwan was pretending to lounge maybe 10 yards farther back, looking like a mall rat in a hoodie, Kansas City Royals cap turned sideways and hip-hop pants, with iPod buds in his ears. He could see Carol on the upper level. J-3 was nowhere in sight.
Emery turned back to Munday while activating the digital voice recorder in his coat pocket. The mike was pinned inside his coat lapel. He said, “Like I told you over the phone earlier, Gloria, the best antidote for speech you don’t like is more speech. A lawsuit would only subject you and Kan-Tel to discovery, and violence would only bring you more misery.
“So why don’t you rebut Mrs. Cannon’s comment on The Vindicator? If the money wasn’t misspent like Ferdy Cannon thought, tell the readers where it really went.”
“You know Kan-Tel doesn’t do public dialogue, Joe. It was a real challenge just persuading the board to apply for that $750,000 KanTech grant a few years ago.”
“It must be difficult working with their closed corporate culture.”
She rolled her eyes. “You have no idea. But they pay really well.”
“With misappropriated money.”
She waved a hand. “We didn’t really misappropriate the money, Joe. We just interpreted the KanTech spending guidelines broadly. We needed better offices, vehicles and such-like. We were moving up-market and needed to look the part. Still, they worried, rightly, as it turned out, that young Mr. Cannon had learned way too much inside information. His grant application put too much of the company’s business into the public record, where you, like a good little Boy Scout, finally found it.”
“So they did send those thugs to beat Cannon up?”
“I don’t know anything about that. Those decisions are made in Garden City.”
“By Vernal Barnes, right?”
“Right. What? No. By Vernal Spritzer, not Mr. Barnes.”
“So what role does Sen. Barnes play in the organization?
“Why are you asking about him?”
“You just implied that Barnes is part of Kan-Tel.”
“I did not. Besides, information on the senator is private.”
“You just admitted it again.”
“Did not.”
He had her. He said, “As for privacy, Kan-Tel surrendered its right to privacy when it took public money, not only from KanTech, but also payment-in-kind from the Ag Department for the services of the Alpha-Omega goons. The public has a right to know what happened to their tax dollars.”
From behind, a male voice scoffed, “Right to know. That’s crap, Emery.”
Emery spun around. The man in the blue suit was behind him. Emery recognized his intense blue eyes right away. This was the man he’d shot Thanksgiving Day.
“Meet Edsel Richards,” Munday said. “I’ll leave you in his capable hands.” She turned and walked away.
Over Richards’ right shoulder Emery could see Juwan, who’d prudently brought stun guns for himself and J-3, moving in fast. The young man had only to zap Edsel in the back of the neck and the hyena would melt into a puddle.
He smiled. “So they didn’t liquidate you like they did poor Lazlo. Guess it helps to be related to the boss. How many toes did you lose from the gunshot wound?” Something poked into his abdomen.
“That’s an Italian stiletto against your gut, Emery,” Richards said. “One false move and I’ll skewer your insides.
“Act normally and come with me. We’re going to walk calmly outside. I’m taking you for a ride. You’re going to show me how to log onto your blog so I can take down that comment and make a few other changes. Then I’m going to show you how much I hate you.”
But Emery was watching the dancing red dot that abruptly appeared on the left side of Richards’ chest. “Someone’s got a laser sight on you, Edsel.”
Richards looked down, blanched and backed away, favoring his right foot. The red dot moved down to his crotch. It was immediately replaced by a small hole in his trousers. Richards screamed and staggered back several steps, then fell to his knees, hands clamped against his groin, face contorted with pain. Someone had shot the man.
Strange. There’d b
een no gunshot report. Richards dropped the stiletto, about five inches long, at Emery’s feet. Its gorgeous black onyx handle was adorned with an inlaid pearl dragon. No point in giving Edsel a chance to retrieve it. He picked it up, careful to avoid the trigger button, and slipped it into his jacket pocket next to the recorder, which he switched off.
A gaggle of passing shoppers looked curiously at Emery and Richards, then moved on. Emery waited for a voice to shout something like, “Freeze, police,” but that didn’t happen.
Juwan was at his side. “You OK, J-2?”
“Yeah. Thanks for backing me up. I owe you.”
“We’re cool, J-2. What happened to him?”
“Someone shot him. Let’s clear out of here. See if you can find Carol and the kid, OK? They were on the upper level. I’ll meet you outside.”
“Sure thing.” Juwan walked off toward the stairs.
Emery looked at Richards, who was trying to get to his feet. The wounded goon fell back onto the floor, groaning.
His phone rang. Carol. “I’ve already called 911,” she said.
“Good, because he’s the guy I shot in the foot on Thanksgiving. And he probably killed Ernest Complet.”
“Who shot him?” she asked.
“Don’t know. Let’s all meet outside.” She ended the call. He walked downstairs, out the door and over to the north end of the parking lot.
J-3, Juwan and Carol came up a minute later, accompanied by a wiry middle-aged woman with graying red hair and red-frame glasses with large lenses. She was dressed in a heavy black sweater and black slacks. Over her shoulders was a large backpack.
“Poppy,” J-3 said, “this here’s our new friend. She shot that guy who sneaked up behind you. Black pellet rifle with a collapsible steel stock and a laser sight. Sweet weapon.”
“Nailed him in the balls,” the woman said. She stretched out her right hand. “Viviana Stephens. We meet in person at last, Mr. Emery.”
“What on Earth are you doing here?” Emery said, grasping her hand. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you. You showed up at a really good time.”
“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?” she said as two police cars pulled up to the mall door.
“You bet,” Emery said. “Come with us.” As they walked back across the river and up the hill to Stiggy’s neighborhood, Emery took Carol’s hand. “I got some great audio.”
“After what you put us through, it had better be great.”
Chapter 44: A Good Life, Wrecked
December 29, 4 p.m.
As Stephens sat talking with Carol and J-3 in Stiggy’s living room, Emery went back to the kitchen and called Mike Harmon. “My wife was the one who called 911 on Edsel Richards. Did the Lawrence police get him?”
“Yeah, and now the KCID has him,” Harmon said. “Seems his left testicle got shattered. He’s on his way to the locked unit at Topeka General. How’d he get shot?”
“I was at the mall talking to Gloria Munday about Ken-Tel when Edsel accosted me. She walked off. He held a stiletto against my gut. Then someone nailed him in the nuts with a pellet gun.”
“How’d you know it was a rifle pellet?” Harmon demanded.
Oops. Thinking fast, Emery said, “Educated guess. There was no gunshot report. It either had to be a silenced firearm or an air gun. A firearm shot would have put him down for keeps.”
A pause. Then Harmon said, “OK. The Lawrence police arrested Richards, who was limping toward the mall door when they arrived. He tried to pretend he was someone else but was carrying an Oklahoma driver’s license in his real name. He’s recently been shot in the foot, so once we match the DNA from your Thanksgiving home invasion with the Complet DNA and the mall DNA, we’ll have him cold on both crimes. How does Gloria Munday fit in?”
Emery gave him the gist of the story, leaving out the Vernal Barnes part. He then directed Harmon’s attention to the Severine Cannon comment on The Vindicator.
Harmon found it on the web. “This is helpful. I’ll alert the Colorado Springs police to investigate Cannon’s death as a murder and ask the KCID to coordinate on the Kansas end. I’ll alert the FBI liaison I've been visiting with in case he wants to get involved. If we need you to prefer assault charges against Edsel and Munday, you’re good for that, right?”
“If it comes to that, I will. But isn’t it better to let Gloria think she got away?”
“For now. We’ll keep an eye on her and see where she leads us.”
Back in the front room, Carol was talking with Stephens. “I saw that man sneak up behind Joe and Juwan running up behind him. How did you know to shoot him?”
Stephens indicated J-3, seated next to her on the couch. “This alert young man caught me assembling my weapon in the third-floor stairway while looking down at Mr. Emery and Gloria Munday. He demanded to know what I was doing.
“I told him I was tracking Gloria, thanks to Mr. Emery’s wonderful blog. I drove to Topeka early today and staked out her office on Southwest Boulevard. She came out about 1 and got into her Lexus. I followed her over here. After she went into the mall, I decided to shoot her in the ass.”
“We both saw the guy with the limp sneak up behind Poppy, and then the blonde woman left,” J-3 said. “So I told Ms. Stephens here …”
“You can call me Viviana.”
“I told Viviana here this must be the guy Poppy shot in the foot on Thanksgiving.”
“That’s right,” she said. “I saw he’d stuck a knife or a gun, I couldn’t tell which from up above, against Mr. Emery’s belly. So I pumped the gun a few more times to jack up the firepower, turned on the laser sight and drew a bead on him. He saw the red dot on his chest and backed away, I decided to go for his crotch.”
“The pellet smashed his testicle, according to the authorities,” Emery said.
“Hmmm. A mite too much firepower,” Stephens mused.
“It’s gruesome but if you hadn’t wounded him so badly he might have gotten away,” Carol said. “When I called the police, I was afraid he’d run away before they got there.”
“Right,” Emery said. “He also provided a blood sample for DNA analysis.” He told Stephens about the home invasion and how it resulted in blood and bone-fragment DNA for law enforcement. “We also think he’s been involved in past assaults on innocent Kansans, of which you're one.”
Stephens nodded. “I am. Let me tell you what happened to me in 2008.”
“You were a Montgomery County commissioner, right?” Emery said.
“Right.” Stephens said hers was the swing County Commission vote on an application from Rural Cable Communications for a franchise agreement. RCC wanted to install fiber optic cable along the major roads in the southern third of the county, her home turf. She supported the idea. Kan-Tel opposed the proposal on the ground that its recently acquired copper-wire-based phone system, in tandem with its planned wireless broadband system, was adequate to the residents’ communications needs.
Gabe Cantrall, one of the two other county commissioners agreed with her. The third commissioner, Lester Dubois, sided with Kan-Tel.
“The night we were to vote, I took off for the courthouse about 5 o’clock,” Stephens said. “It was a rainy October afternoon. Halfway there, a big Crown Victoria forced me into the ditch. Two hooded men threw me into the trunk of their car. We drove around for several hours, with me gasping for air. Finally, I passed out.
“When I came to, it was late in the evening and I was lying on my front porch, shivering and wet. My pickup was parked in the driveway like I’d never left. I caught a terrible cold. In my absence, the RCC proposal failed on a tie vote. Kan-Tel got the territory exclusive.
“Somehow the word got out I’d skipped the meeting deliberately. The week before, the Kan-Tel CEO made a $1,000 contribution from his personal account to my campaign fund for the November election. I didn’t know him – my fault for not checking – so I kept the money. Someone tipped off the newspapers in Coffeyville and Independence about the che
ck. I denied that I'd been bought and the papers reported that. I’d filed a crime report with the sheriff’s office the day after the meeting and they wrote about that, too. But their stories made it look like I was trying to cover my tracks for taking a payoff from Kan-Tel. And the Independence paper wrote an editorial saying I’d betrayed my constituents.
“A few weeks later, on Election Day, I lost my commission seat by a wide margin. I was in disgrace, but I had some money saved up and I had my little house outside of town free and clear. My husband, who died young in the Vietnam War, had inherited it from his mom.
“So I concentrated on getting strong so I could find out who screwed me and get even. I lost 40 pounds. I took lessons in hand-to-hand combat, target shooting and knife throwing down in Tulsa. If those hooded men came after me today, I’d put them in the trunk.
“But no one in the know would tell me who set me up. I’m bitter about that to this day. So I just kind of let it go for awhile and took life as it came, hoping the bitterness would fade away. It didn’t.
“After you called me a few weeks back, I started reading The Vindicator and subscribed to your feed. I read your stories about the other folks assaulted by the hooded men. I felt bad that I didn’t cooperate with you a few weeks back, but I didn’t want the folks who framed me to know what I'm up to. And now I’ve finally figured out who they are.”
“How?” Carol demanded.
“From the Severine Cannon comment Mr. Emery here published yesterday. Her mention of Gloria Munday triggered my memory. Gloria lobbied me against RCC, for about a minute. I told her no dice. Never saw her again until today.
“So last night, I called Jonas Starr, editor of the Coffeyville paper, and told him I knew Gloria was the one who tipped his reporter about the Kan-Tel check back in 2008. It was a bluff. I'd asked him to identify his source before, but it made a difference that I had her name. He confirmed that Gloria was his source, said I had a right to know that. So at 5 this morning, intent on revenge, I packed some weapons and a change of clothes and drove up to Topeka.”
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