Meadows was drinking coffee when April sat down at his desk.
“April, good morning. I saw your kettle-singing performance. You were good. Bet you got a lot of donations.”
“A few people chipped in. It was a good day.”
“When’s your next show?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. I promised I’d do an afternoon shift.”
Meadows raised his coffee cup. “I will be there cheering you on and contributing.”
“Thank you. But now I need to talk to you about another matter.”
“OK. What matter are we going to discuss?”
“Clay and I . . . you know Clay, don’t you?”
“If he’s the handsome, tall gentleman who comes in once in a while to say hello to you, yes.”
She nodded. “That’s the one. Clay and I are looking into the murder of Joe Dinera of the county planning department. He discovered that three brothers named Rivenbark had some shouting matches with Joe. Do you know anything about them?”
He sipped his coffee again then put the cup on his desk. “Some, but not a lot. Their father passed away not too long ago, maybe eight months, but he came before the zoning commission a few times. He’s a major landowner in the county. Once or twice one of his sons came with him. He was one of those people who didn’t like publicity. He did get to trust me and would talk to me during the latter part of his life. He knew I would treat him fairly. He was kind of a character when you got to know him. As I said, he didn’t like publicity, saved his money and didn’t particularly trust doctors. It was the last that killed him. Claude was one of those men who could withstand a lot a pain. He woke up early to get to work, and more than once, he worked when he had an injury. He ignored some pain late in life and finally went to the doctor. The diagnosis came back stage-four cancer and he went down quickly. I don’t think he was a particularly good father but that’s another matter.”
“Know anything about the sons?”
“Not really. I know one got into some legal trouble some years ago. I cover the sheriff's department too, and the deputies over there are familiar with the Rivenbark clan. Nothing too serious, if I recall. A brother might get drunk in a bar or be speeding. I could check if you like.”
“Yes, I’d appreciate it if you would. The brothers own some property near the Blue Sands development, and they would like to see the county approve it. They think it would hike the value of their property.”
“It probably would.” Meadows paused for a moment and leaned back in his chair. His fingers rubbed his chin. “That’s right . . . the brothers don’t have as much money as they thought they would after Claude passed. I don’t think they’re hurting, but they have less than they expected.”
“What happened? Was Claude not paying his taxes and Uncle Sam moved in and demanded some money.”
“No, not that. For some years before he passed Claude had a lady friend who was about thirty years younger than him. It was a longtime affair and Claude had great affection for the woman—so much so—that he made ample provisions for her in his will.”
“How ample?”
“Rumored to be as ample as the lady’s assets.”
April smirked. “I assume the assets we are talking about in this matter are not financial.”
Meadows picked up his coffee cup. “No. It was about six months ago that the brothers challenged the will. Got a lawyer and went to court. But . . . I’m trying to think of her name . . . Clair. It was Clair. Clair Winchester. Clair got an attorney too—a very good one. The judge ruled correctly that Claude knew exactly what he was doing when he made the will, and he obviously did. Clair kept the money, and the brothers simmered.”
“How much money are we talking about?”
“Cash, stocks, and real estate. The amount totaled more than six hundred thousand dollars.”
“Wow! Claude was generous.”
Meadows scratched his jaw. “Yes. I assume the lady made his last years very pleasant ones. To be honest, it was probably the first time in Claude’s life he was generous. He was known to be pretty tight.”
“So Clair had assets indeed, did she?”
“Yes. It just shows you the power of a woman.”
April tapped her finger on the desk. “But Rollin, six hundred thousand is a lot of money. How much was left in the Rivenbark estate?”
“Enough. The brothers won’t need to go to the food bank for breakfast. I’m guessing Claude was probably worth about two million, maybe more. The house belongs to his wife. He gave her a financial settlement too, although it was much less than six hundred thousand. The three brothers got the business. But I don’t think any one of them has the business sense that Claude did. In fact, I’ve heard rumors they’ve had a financial setback recently. The boys perhaps did not pay much attention to business and financial details during earlier years. They were out drinking and partying instead.”
“So maybe they would like an influx of cash. Or maybe they need an influx of cash.”
“I’m sure they would welcome it,” Meadows said. “This wouldn’t be the first time a man created a business empire that was frittered away by his children.”
“Yes, that explains their lobbying effort. They were pressuring Joe about the project. From what Clay said, Joe got really angry with them once and told them he was going to tell the commission to deny approval. That got them really angry. One brother had to be restrained from assaulting him.”
“Hmm . . . I wonder if they might be in worse financial condition than I thought. Or it might be one of the brothers is a hothead. The police reports indicate the latter.”
“Or it could be a combination of both,” April said. “Thanks, Rollin. That’s good to know. But now I’m wondering if there are other property owners who would like to see the Blue Sands hotel break ground.”
“There are a few around,” Meadows said. “At the zoning commission meeting, Blue Sands had a number of local residents on its side. About twelve, maybe fifteen people spoke in favor of the project. I’m sure a couple of them had financial reasons for doing so. There was a lot of opposition too, but some local folks were very vocal allies of Blue Sands.”
April’s finger tapped her jaw. “I wonder how hotheaded those brothers can be. If their land on the beach could increase tenfold in value we’re talking seven figures. If they sell that land it would make up for the money sent to Miss Claire. That’s a lot of money and a motive too.”
Meadows nodded.
“Thanks, Rollin. I’ll get this information to Clay, then I have to get to my desk and do some work. Between the newspaper job, the volunteering, the detective work, and the novel, I only have three minutes of spare time a day.”
“Use it to relax,” Meadows said.
The headquarters of the Rivenbark Enterprises looked similar to a southern plantation. It was a two-story yellow building with white columns standing like alert sentries. A trimmed, green lawn surrounded the headquarters. As they opened the door and walked on the thick, beige carpet, Clay and Manatee observed a number of young men and women scurrying to various offices. When asked, a receptionist said the Rivenbark brothers were waiting in the second-floor conference room. The two walked up the stairs. From what he had heard about the Rivenbark brothers, Clay hadn’t expected the sheer business smoothness of the clan. Every person going to and fro in the headquarters looked like they were models of efficiency.
The conference door was open. They walked in and saw three men sitting behind a long, narrow, mahogany table. Coffee cups sat in front of two of the men. The third man sipped a beer. The two eased down in chairs across from the three brothers.
“I’m Clay Augustine, and this is my friend, Manatee.”
Manatee smiled and stared at the brother drinking the beer, who looked like the youngest of the family. He had brown, curly hair and angry, brown eyes. He didn’t smile but smirked. His nose was too big for his face, but his mouth was small giving him an odd, incongruous look. Clay thought there was another
emotion besides anger in the man’s brown eyes. The eyes gave a glare of Texas mean.
“Hello again, Sparky,” he said. “Mussed up any women lately?”
“That’s not my name!”
The brother sipping the beer shot out of his chair, knocking it back against the wall. “The name is Claude. Claude Rivenbark, Jr.”
Manatee chuckled. He glanced at Clay. “Sparky here was walking down the beach with a young lady several months ago. Only Sparky wanted to do more than walk. He got a mite frisky, had his hands all over the woman and under her dress. She yelled, slapped him, and tried to pull away. Sparky roughly grabbed her and started to slap her.” Manatee smiled and looked again at his friend. “Being a gentleman I felt I had to intercede. So I popped him.”
“An obvious act of chivalry,” Clay said. “Don’t see too much of that nowadays. Glad to see we have one knight among us.”
“I made sure the young lady was okay and saw her off to safety. By that time Sparky was cursing me out and using the foulest language. I'm an army vet so I’m used to rough language, but I do like a little creativity with it. Just shouting four-letter words shows a low-class mind.” Manatee’s smile disappeared and his tone dropped. In the army he had used such a tone to shout commands to his men. “I didn’t like a cowardly little punk cursing at me so I took off my belt and whipped his butt, then threw him off the beach. He wasn’t walking too well when he headed for his car.”
“Nice we had this meeting,” Clay said. “You two old friends can renew your acquaintance.”
The middle brother spoke. “Let’s leave that until later. My name is Derek Rivenbark.” He pointed left. “You have already met my brother Claude. Brother Jeff is on my right. My father’s will named me as president of the company and my two brothers are vice-presidents.”
“You may want to get better help, Sonny,” Manatee said.
“I may have to because Father left the business in a mess. He was a good businessman, but he declined during his later years.”
“His mind was on his lady of the evening which became his lady of the morning, and lady at noon,” Jeff said. “When you’re that old I figured all the juices would dry up. But our dear father was as whipped as you could get.”
“Stop talking about Dad that way!” Claude yelled. He waved a pointed finger at his brother.
“Sit down, Sparky,” Derek said. The voice had bite in it. “We can discuss family matters at a later time. We have agreed to this meeting because we wanted to clear up any misconceptions. You realize we don’t have to talk to you?”
Clay nodded. “We appreciate the meeting.”
“This family does not want any dark shadow or suspicion over us. We have had enough legal trouble for a while. No one in this family harmed Mr. Dinera. We had our disagreements with him, but our disagreements were kept to words. We did not kill him.”
“I was told one of you tried to assault Mr. Dinera and had to be held back. May I assume that was Sparky?”
“As you may have guessed my youngest brother has a bad temper that he needs to get under control. Dinera shouted some unkind things at him and he reacted. My brother and I grabbed him before he could assault Dinera.”
“Yes, another assault and he could be in real trouble, being on probation and all,” Clay said.
Derek gave a curt smile. Clay thought the man didn’t like his brother but, due to blood ties, was stuck with him.
“Many police records are public records. Obviously you have skimmed through them. Yes, a second conviction and my brother could get jail time. We hope to keep him out of further trouble and hope the years cool the temper down. But he did not kill Dinera. I didn’t kill Dinera. Jeff didn’t kill Dinera. A great deal of money hangs on the decision of the county commission in regard to the Blue Sands project. We want it approved. But it’s not worth murder.” He pointed left again. “Little brother here has spent a little time in a jail cell. It was a few years ago, and he was arrested for public intoxication and public fighting. But he didn’t like his accommodations and he definitely doesn’t want to go back.”
“You all have an alibi?”
“Is the newspaper correct that Dinera was killed early Tuesday afternoon?”
Clay nodded.
“Brother Jeff does. He was traveling out of the county with a friend. His credit card will show he filled up for gas a hundred miles from Sea Oak at one o’clock in the afternoon. The other two brothers do not. Claude and I were roaming around on company business. Separately. We were not together. No one can verify our whereabouts. But I was miles away from the Sea Oak downtown. So was Claude. He may be a hothead but he’s not a murderer.”
“I can see why your father made you the company president,” Manatee said.
“Have any more questions?”
“Just one or two,” Clay said. “I haven’t checked land records but is it true your family owns three good-sized patches of county beach land?”
“This company had a number of investments and holdings and we do own land close to the proposed Blue Sands development. And the answer to your next question is yes. If the motel and condo are approved it would increase the value of our land. There’s no way of predicting just how much land values would jump, but a conservative estimate would be between three to five times the current value. It could be less but could also be more. Although my father surprised—or rather stunned us—with a few paragraphs in his will, this is a family used to dealing with large amounts of money. Even with the unexpected losses we still have money. We’re not going to murder to get a little more.”
“Does Sparky here agree with that?”
“I didn’t kill anyone!” Claude said.
Manatee looked at his partner. “Would you take Sparky at his word? Does he seem like an honest and honorable man to you?”
“Any man who assaults a woman is scum,” Clay said.
Claude jumped from his chair and pointed at Clay. “Listen you, don’t come in here and—”
“Shut up!” Derek said.
“No, I won’t. If you—”
Derek leaped up and, like a pro tennis player hammering a backhand, viciously slapped his brother. He swung again and the flat-of-his-hand slap ricocheted loudly across the room. Two drops of blood flew out of Claude’s mouth and plopped on the desk.
“Keep your mouth shut! You have caused enough trouble. You are going to shut up and keep it shut. I’m the president of this company and I can fire you and I’m a half-second away from doing so. If I do, you will waste what little money you have and die in the gutter, and I’m not going to come pick you up, and neither is Jeff. So you shut your mouth or die broke.”
His brother slumped back in his chair.
Derek sat back down and looked at the two men facing him. “If I thought dear brother Claude had killed Dinera, I’d tell you. If I had evidence of the crime I’d hand it to the police. But he didn’t. He will not be a burden to the taxpayers, just a burden to his brothers. Any more questions?”
Clay shook his head. After they left the room, Manatee looked at him.
“Just one big happy family,” he said.
“Yes, kind of touching, isn’t it?”
“Where to now?”
“I need to run by the office and check a few things. How about dropping over in about an hour. Then we’ll talk to the Blue Sands people.”
8
April typed the last sentence of her story and sighed. The last couple of days had been busy. She quickly read over the story, and then hit the button to send it to the city editor’s desk. She leaned back in her chair and extended her feet on the top of the desk. She told herself she would take some time that evening to go over her notes on the murder investigation. During the past few days she’d had little time to think about it. Sitting on her porch with a glass of wine was a time when ideas come to her. Perhaps it was the solitude. But sitting comfortably on the porch chairs sipping wine, the mind seemed receptive to ideas that couldn’t break through the cha
tter and noise during eight-to-five hours.
But before that, she thought of dropping by Clay’s office. In fact, the last few days had been so hectic she might be a little mischievous with Clay before retiring to her porch. That might liven up the day.
“Read the story yet?” she yelled to the city editor.
“On the last two paragraphs. You must have been busy today, April. Usually your prose is perfect but today I found two errors. Minor errors, true, but two errors just the same,” he said.
“I’ll double-check my next story,” she said.
The city editor smirked. “Compared to the other reporters, having only two errors is paradise for a city editor. You and Rollin are the best when it comes to writing clean prose.”
“Thank you. So, no questions? I can leave?”
“No questions,” he said. “You can take off.”
She slipped off her shoes as she turned the doorknob on Clay’s office. As she gently pushed the door open, she saw Clay was behind his desk. His head was down staring at some papers which he flipped back and forth. April wore stockings due to the chill and stepped noiselessly across the carpet. She was three feet from the desk when Clay looked up. She ran the remaining distance, leaped up and landed on the desktop. She skidded across the wood and bounced onto her boyfriend’s lap.
“April, what the—”
Clay gave a surprise grunt as the velocity of April’s leap spun the chair back to the wall. It bounced and swirled around. April lost her balance and almost landed on the floor. She grabbed Clay’s tie as the chair bumped another wall. Books, files and various papers flew through the air and dropped to the floor. When the chair finally stopped spinning, April had one leg over Clay’s right shoulder and another over the chair’s armrest. In that somewhat awkward position she kept a solid grasp of his tie or she would have tumbled to the floor.
She gave a diffident smile. “I thought I would drop in and say hello,” she said.
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