“Because he was worried that the whole phony contract business would blow up in his face,” the chief said. “Evidently, it was making him nervous, watching from afar Hamish’s bumbling efforts to fix things, so he came home to keep a closer eye on the situation.”
“And perhaps to confer with his buddies at FPF,” Festus said. “Some of whom may be indicted themselves on Federal corruption charges.”
“Ah,” the chief said. “I expect that’s why the FBI were so keen on having a chance to interview Mr. George Pruitt.”
“So do you think all of this will be useful?” I asked Festus. “In getting our courthouse back without selling anything to the developer?”
“Useful?” Festus exclaimed. “FPF will be lucky if we don’t end up owning them! Talk about a smoking gun! I confess, for a while I was worried the FBI would offer him a deal to rat on his cronies at FPF. But the closer we can tie him to the murder, the less chance of that. You’ll have your courthouse back, no strings attached, and sooner than expected.”
And with the courthouse safely back in Caerphilly’s hands, our passionately antidevelopment county board would have no reason to cooperate with anyone’s plans to seize our land for a golf course.
“Speaking of FPF,” Randall said. “Did I tell you I got a call back from my contact at the Department of Criminal Justice Services? Apparently the Flying Monkeys were not operating legally in the state of Virginia. It may be minor compared with what the FBI has in store for them, but FPF’s going to have a lot of explaining to do on that front, too.”
“And more legal charges, most likely,” the chief said. “And furthermore—are we keeping you up, Ms. Langslow?”
I hadn’t been able to stifle a particularly broad yawn.
“It’s been a long day,” I said. “I’m delighted to hear that none of our local future felons are still running around loose, and I’ve got a million more questions, but they’ll keep. Michael, let’s grab the boys and go home.”