Ghost River by Jon Coon (best non fiction books of all time TXT) 📕

“Paul was angry with me the last time we talked, but I have a hard time believing he would be that vindictive,” Gabe said.

“He called Emily while we were in Mexico. She said he was really mad when he found out I’d gone with you. It frightened her.”

“You didn’t tell me,” he paused to finish his cup of coffee and refill it.

“I was hoping he’d get over it and it wouldn’t matter.” She lowered her head so that her eyes were just above her knees.

She’s hiding, he thought. He sat back down beside her and sipped. It was hot. “Sure. But, if there’s a next time, please tell me.”

“Okay, sorry,” she answered. “You promised we were going to finish our conversation from before the fire. I’m ready any time.”

“Sure, just let me catch up—” His phone rang.

“Hey, you guys all right?” Bob asked.

“Still in recovery,” Gabe answered. “Any news?”

“Fire investigators will be out there today. I called the office and told them not to expect you for a couple days, that you would be with me working on the fire. No problem. Just a couple other things: We got extradition papers on Rogers. We’re going to bring him back and charge him ASAP. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Good,” Gabe replied. “What else?”

“McFarland Construction’s senior VP is dead. Apparent suicide at their office. Thought you might want to go with me.”

“Absolutely. When?”

“I’m rolling. How about I pick you up in half an hour. You at the RV?”

“Yeah, I’ll be ready. Have you got a name?”

“It’s Bodine, Bo Bodine.”

“That rings a bell, let me call you back shortly. I want to check on something.” Gabe hung up the phone and turned to Carol. “Didn’t Wilson tell us Bodine was Nancy’s last name?” he asked Carol.

“Yes, I think so,” Carol answered.

“Bo could be her father. Apparently he committed suicide at work,” Gabe said to Carol. “All the more reason for us to talk with Nancy.”

Gabe got up and from the small desk, brought a notebook and began writing a project list: Car for Carol, insurance, check to see if the gun safe really was fireproof and look for anything salvageable, get a dozer to clean up the site, get a plumber for sewage, a big propane tank for Montana. Before long the list filled the page. He handed it to Carol, who added to the list:

buy property

hire architect

call realtor

list house

live happily ever after

She grinned and handed it back.

Bob’s state cruiser arrived, Gabe joined him, and they were off to McFarland’s Tallahassee offices.

“Can’t imagine they will be too happy to see us,” Gabe said.

“Enough bad press from this investigation. Could be the end of them,” Bob added. “Was that old engineer, Mayweather, on the list for a subpoena?

“That he was,” Bob said.

“Unfortunate. He could have told us a lot.”

Mirrored glass and polished steel, the McFarland offices were both impressive and in chaos. Peterson’s deposition had resulted in court demands for documents going back years, some of them referring to projects completed well before the current engineers and administrative staff were hired.

In the midst of the chaos, senior VP Brandt “Bo” Bodine was found hanging from a balcony in the four-story open foyer early that morning. A terse suicide note, sent from his computer, had been circulated in an intraoffice memo after midnight that night. In the note Bo claimed responsibility for the bidding fraud. He apologized to his fellow workers and exonerated the upper-level management. It ended, “Please forgive my actions and the damage I’ve done to the reputation of our company. I’m deeply sorry.”

Bob put down the note with a frown. “That’s just a little too smooth,” he said to Gabe, who nodded agreement. On the desk were photos of Bo with several different attractive women, some with children. In the bookcase were photos of golf with friends, including Congressman Justin Conners and other affluently stout, older men. In those clubhouse photos, all were toasting the camera. Gabe wondered if one of the girls could have been Bo’s daughter. And if not, why wasn’t she on this memory wall?

On the wall was a large print of a houseboat with an upper deck big enough for a dance band and fifteen or twenty couples. Bo looked quite happy at the helm, surrounded by attractive young women in bikinis holding champagne flutes. Bob got out his phone and began copying the photos. “Let’s see who his friends were.”

Gabe looked through a leather-bound daily planner. “He was booked solid for the next two months. Then a three-week vacation. Looks like they were going to take a Mediterranean cruise.”

Gabe pulled out a file drawer and found a folder marked “cruise.” In it were brochures and several pages of notes and copies of receipts. They had six upper-deck balcony suites booked. “Big bucks!” Gabe said, “Let’s find out who was invited.” Gabe found a reservations number for Princess Cruises and placed the call. Within a few minutes, he had a list of ten additional names and contact information for couples from five other southern states. “Wouldn’t it be interesting if any of his guests happened to work for state highway departments?”

“You don’t think?” Bob asked with a sarcastic laugh. He continued pulling out drawers and going through files.

Gabe quickly read the list. “Oh, check this out. Our friends Steve Overstreet and Mrs. Overstreet will be cruising with us. Isn’t that just cozy?”

“A jury is going to love that,” Bob added. “Do we know anyone else?”

“It looks like the rest are from other states, but I imagine they have a thing or two in common: like kickbacks and mayhem.”

Gabe folded the list and added it to his notebook. “Do you see anything here that spells suicide? This guy had it made.”

“Unless he thought he wouldn’t survive the investigation,” Bob said.

“Punishment for white collar crime isn’t that bad. Even if he was convicted, he wouldn’t have done much time. I don’t think it adds up to killing yourself. Just a thought.”

“So how we going to prove