Rudy, he told her, had so far refused to make a statement on the advice of his avocat, but Gideon, John, and Bertaud had pieced together a first, rough set of events that seemed to fit the facts. They believed that the money-laundering operation had been Brian's—that is, Bozzuto's—idea; perhaps he'd had it in his mind from the very time he arrived. Bozzuto, after all, had the racketeering contacts and the firsthand experience with slippery bookkeeping. As if to confirm this, the tricky business with the prices had begun only a few months after he had come to the farm. Besides that, Nelson had now turned up some accounting and telephone records that seemed to show Brian's hand in several of the phony transactions. But Brian wouldn't have been able to do it alone. In the first place, coffee-bean purchases weren't made from the farm but from Whidbey Island, Rudy's turf. In the second, Klingo Bozzuto, even with a new face and a new name, wouldn't have been crazy about going anywhere near his old, betrayed gangland associates.
So Rudy was approached, and whether from resentment of Nick (so much more successful than his own father, so magnanimous, so open-handed), or from simple greed, or for some other reason, he cut himself in. For five years they used Paradise Coffee as a money-laundering conduit. And then something happened to sour the relationship. Bertaud believed that Rudy simply decided to cut Brian out and keep all the profit for himself, and the most satisfactory way to do that was to murder him. John believed that Brian, changed for the better by his relationships with Nick and Therese, and by parenthood, had finally seen the light and wanted to go straight, and that Rudy had killed him to keep him from putting an end to the arrangement, and perhaps even confessing to Nick. Gideon kept his opinion to himself, but he thought that Bertaud was closer to the mark.
Whatever the cause, they were fairly sure that it was Rudy who had killed him during that lonely camping trip to Raiatea. Proving it was going to be impossible, they agreed, but Bertaud had assured them that Tari's murder alone, what with Gideon's findings, would be enough to lock Rudy up for a long time to come. Gideon had set the final seal on things when he'd examined Tari's hut and determined what the murder weapon was: not the fireplace poker that he'd anticipated, but a gancho—a sturdy, five-foot pole with a crook in it that was used to pull the spindly top branches of the coffee trees down within easy reach. Tari had kept one leaning against a corner in the hut, and although Rudy had wiped it clean of hair, blood, and fingerprints, Gideon had been able to show that the shape of the heavy end of it perfectly matched the depressed fracture in Tari's skull.
Julie and Gideon had been quiet while the canon was being played, but when it was done she leaned forward to turn the volume down. “There are still some things that I don't understand."
"You and me both,” Gideon said.
"What about Therese, for example? Did she honestly not know what Brian was doing? Are you going to tell me she's really as pure and innocent as all that?"
"Well, yes and no. We had dinner with the family at Nick's house last night, and it was pretty interesting; a lot of things came out. And the answer to your question is, yes, she did know all about Brian's past. That's why she was so desperate to have the exhumation canceled, you see. She was scared to death that somehow or other his real identity would come out and his old gangland enemies would find out about it and come after her and the twins for revenge."
"Well, I guess that makes sense."
"But as for knowing that he'd been involved in anything shady since he came to Tahiti, that was a total surprise to her. She thought he was completely reformed."
Julie threw him a sidewise glance. “And you believe that?"
"I do, yes."
"Well, I don't. How did she really meet him, anyhow? The Bennington story was just so much claptrap, wasn't it?"
"There you're right. It all came out at dinner. Old Klingo had seen her at that first trial years ago and was thoroughly smitten. Never forgot her. Six or seven years later, with a new name and a new face, he called her from the States, claimed he was a reporter—which he wasn't—and said she probably didn't remember him, but they'd met briefly while he was covering the trial in Seattle—which they hadn't—and he was coming out on vacation to Tahiti in a couple of weeks, and could they get together? She said sure, on most Friday nights she went to the movies in Papeete with her friends, and if he wanted to, they could meet for a drink first. And that was that. They fell in love. Later, he did tell her who he really was."
"And how did Nick react to hearing all that? Did he get mad?"
"Mad—no, I don't think so. Shocked would be more like it. I think he had a hard time coming to grips with the idea that his sweet little baby had actually been going around meeting strange men in bars. Celine didn't have any problem with it, though. I think Therese went up in her estimation."
Julie laughed. “Celine sounds like a character."
"One of many."
Like the knowledgeable locals they were, they turned onto the Old Olympic Highway at Sequim to avoid the downtown bottleneck, then back onto 101, over the crest with its sweeping view of the Elwha Valley and towering Klahane Ridge (obscured at the moment by murk and rain, but they knew what it looked like and enjoyed it anyway), and down the long grade into a gloomy Port Angeles. Up Race Street, past the rain-darkened buildings of the university...
"But what about those accidents?” Julie asked suddenly. “What accidents?"
"The accidents. All those things that were going wrong. The pulper, the drying machine, the shed, the jeep—"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. That was Maggie, all right, but she wasn't trying to hurt Brian—"
"Well, she sure wasn't trying to improve his health."
"No, what she was trying to do was discredit his ideas. The jeeps, the drying shed, the pulper, the computers, the furnaces, everything—they were all new ideas that came from Brian, and she was simply doing her best to foul them up so they looked like flops. She never meant for him to be in the shed when it collapsed, or in the jeep when it flipped."
"Uh-huh. How do you know all this?"
"Well, I put a bug in John's ear about Maggie a few days ago, and after he stewed about it a while he went and talked to her. I guess he just kept at it until she broke down and let it all out. She just couldn't stand seeing this stranger come in and drive a wedge between her and her family—especially Nick and ‘Therese. At least that's the way it looked to her. She also honestly thought his ideas were all wet."
"Has John told Nick about it?"
"No, and I don't think he's going to. He figures it's best for everybody to just leave it alone."
"I think he's right."
"I do too."
"At any rate,” she said as the garage door creaked up and the car pulled in, dripping rainwater onto the concrete floor, “you have to admit I had Maggie pretty well pegged. Without ever seeing her, too."
"You sure did. Right on the button."
"I also told you I didn't trust Rudy either, didn't I?"
"Yes, but you also told me you didn't trust Nick or Therese."
"Well, that's true but don't forget, if you'd paid any attention to me, you'd have figured out that there was money-laundering going on a long time ago. I practically told you as much."
With his hand on the door, he paused. “I would? You did?"
"Certainly,” she said. “Haven't I been pointing out for years that their coffee is impossibly overpriced?"
He laughed. “I guess you have at that."
Once inside the house he set down his bags and pulled her close, and for a few long seconds they stood that way, their eyes shut, clasped tightly together with Julie's forehead against Gideon's cheek. He inhaled the sweet, fresh, familiar scent of her hair.
Indeed, it was nice to be home.
"Mm,” he said as they swayed slowly back and forth, arms wrapped around each other, “you mean I get to do this anytime I want?"
"It's in the contract,” she murmured. “Ouch. When was the last time you shaved?"
"Yeste
rday. Why don't I grab a shave now? A shower too; I'm feeling a little grungy."
"You don't feel grungy, you feel wonderful,” she said with a final squeeze, then pulled her head back and rubbed the side of her face. “But the shave I'd appreciate."
The telephone answering machine in the bedroom upstairs showed that there was a message. He pressed the playback button and listened while he got out of his clothes. John's voice came on:
How're you doing, Doc? Welcome home. Listen, you have to hear this. Nick finally decided to sell out to this Superstar outfit, okay? I mean, he's had it now with coffee, he wants out; you can understand. So he tells Nelson to get in touch with them and let them know. Well, twenty minutes later, who shows up at the house with this grin a mile wide but Dean Parks? The guy that owns the Shangri-La, remember? Guess what: Superstar Resorts International IS Dean Parks. The guy's a multi-millionaire, would you believe it?
Not easily, thought Gideon. Besides, wasn't Superstar headquartered in Omaha?
That Omaha stuff was all smoke and mirrors, you see. Old Dino's the number-one shareholder. It turns out that all he ever wanted all along was to have the biggest, best resort in Polynesia, better than anything Nick had—and he wanted to do it on Nick's property. Because why? Because, believe it or not, Dean's the guy Nick won that ten thousand dollars from in World War II—I told you that story—and then used it to buy the old copra plantation when he first got to Tahiti.
Now here's the beauty part: here's Dean, looking like he just swallowed the canary. I mean, here it's been eating away at him all these years—in a friendly way, of course—that it's his ten thousand bucks that got Nick the plantation in the first place and started him off, and now, finally, he's got his own back. So he crows about it for a while and says to Nick: “What do you think of that? After fifty years we're finally even."
And Nick looks at him in all seriousness and says: “You're the guy I won that money off of? I always thought it was Wolensky."
See you next week. Say hi to Julie for me.
Gideon was still laughing when Julie called from downstairs. “Hey, up there, get going, will you? I don't hear the shower."
"On my way,” Gideon called back. “Be down in ten minutes."
"I'll put up a pot of coffee and some goodies."
"Fine, sounds good."
But a moment later, he opened the bathroom door and put his head out.
"On second thought,” he called, “I think I'd just as soon have tea. All things considered."
* * *
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Aaron Elkins - Gideon Oliver 09 - Twenty Blue Devils Page 24
