Chapter Fifty — eight: Intelligence

11 Apr
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

It did not take a forensic accountant to realize what the briefcase showed. It was evidence. But not proof. At least not proof of murder.

It was proof of something. The briefcase belonged to one William Pardot. His wife was an executive who was embezzling big chunks from her company. William was a family man with a wife and daughter who had several women on the string, though at minute there was only one.

L C Davenport.

As L C went through the items in the briefcase she talked to Wilbur, trying to draw him out. Trying to understand the fantasy world he lived in. She was able to draw some valid conclusions about Cody and their relationship together. It sounded like a younger brother’s worship of an older brother who seemed like the man of steel. What she did not realize was that Lonnie was not really Wilbur and was not really his brother.

All of the materials were here for blackmail. And one item that showed where the money was to come from.

Bill Pardot’s soon to be eighteen year old daughter had a college fund that was to mature on her birthday. Five hundred thousand dollars. Peter Johnson, alias Mr. Penn, wanted all of it. According to the papers in the briefcase Mr. and Mrs. Pardot had agreed to give it all to him.

“This is good stuff. Problem is it doesn’t prove anything. You remember last night when the dog bit the person in the shadows?”

“Yeah.”

“You remember the voice when the dog bit? For a second the person forgot to mask out the voice. Did you hear it?”

Lonnie racked his brains. “No.”

“I do. I know who it was killed Mr. Penn. You can bet it was the same person killed your brother too. But we don’t have any evidence you connect the two. But we can trap them into confessing to Mr. Penn’s murder. Are you okay with that? We nail the killer we nail the killer, right? Does it matter whether they get convicted for one or both so long as they get punished, right?”

“Hmmm. Yeah.” Lonnie wasn’t as sure as he would like to be, but it did sound right.

“They probably won’t get convicted more for one than for two anyway, right?”

“Yeah.” Lonnie was a little more sure.

“You think you can help me? We can work together on this. Like your brother did. You think you could wire me up and record me? Like they do on cop shows?”

“I know I can.”

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