Unwritten Laws 01(59)

Henry knew the case well. “Ed Schott? Sure. They found two hundred grand in cash in a deep freeze in his storeroom.”

“Right. The state claimed that Royal Insurance was paying Schott to rig a state contract. But no company employee was ever indicted.”

“A key witness disappeared,” Henry said in a casual voice. “Or something.”

“Two witnesses. Both women. Do you know who the president of Royal Insurance is?”

“One of Royal’s sons, right?”

“Yep. But the CFO is Royal’s son-in-law, Randall Regan.”

Henry knew all about Regan, who had blocked every attempt Henry had made to interview his wife, Katy. “I’ve seen him around.”

“You know Randall wasn’t no real husband to Brody’s daughter. He’s a watchdog, bought and paid for. He married her less than a year after Pooky Wilson disappeared, after she got back from the sanitarium in Texas. Randall’s job was to look after Katy, but he also ran the crooked side of Royal Insurance. About three years back, Randall and Brody were working a sweet deal to rig a state contract—the same kind of deal Governor Edwards went to jail for. The only problem was, Randall was dicking two gals who worked in the office. One was an accountant, married with kids—the other a divorced secretary with a kid. After a while, these two gals figured out Randall was screwing ’em both. So the accountant decided they’d not only get even with him, but get rich doing it. She called some federal whistle-blower line, something the government set up after the Enron mess. You get huge rewards for ratting out corrupt companies now. So, the feds met these gals, but instead of busting Royal Insurance outright, they left the gals in place and ordered them to steal computer files and such. They even wired them up some days, trying to record conversations.”

“Go on,” Henry said, wishing to God he could tape the cell conversation.

“Around this time, Forrest Knox got wind that Ed Schott was being investigated on the sly.”

“Frank Knox’s son?”

“That’s right. Forrest is a CIB officer in the state police. So Forrest looks into it, finds out about the girls, and passes the word to Brody.”

“Oh, God. What did Brody do?”

Morehouse took several wheezing breaths. “One day those gals left work for lunch and didn’t come back. Snake and Sonny hogtied ’em, hustled ’em into a Cessna, and flew ’em down to a hunting camp in South Louisiana, close to where Frank used to train Cubans in sixty-one. Brody and Randall were waiting. Claude Devereux was down there, too, for the legal end of things. Those gals started screaming and sobbing the second they saw Randall and the old man, because they thought they knew what was coming. But they didn’t have a clue, son.”

Henry felt his stomach clench, but he had to know. “What happened?”

“Snake sat ’em down at a table and tied ’em both to chairs. They were facing each other, but he left their hands free. Randall cussed ’em for about five minutes, and one actually had the balls to cuss back. Then Brody asked what they’d told the feds. The girls wouldn’t talk. So Brody gave the word, and Randall pinned one woman’s arms to the table. Then Brody took out a knife and cut her face up a little. She started talking quick after that. They couldn’t shut her up. She was bleeding and slobbering all over the table, and the other girl was sobbing. In about three minutes, they’d spilled everything. Brody went into the next room and talked to Devereux. Claude said it was pretty clear the feds had been told a lot, but without the gals as witnesses, they’d never make a case stick.”

Henry knew what must follow, as surely as the feast follows the kill, and it sickened him. But he did what years of experience had taught him he must. “What happened then?”

“Brody told them gals they were going to play a game.”

“A game?”

“Yessir. That’s Brody, right down to the ground. The winner would get to go back to her kids, but the loser had to die.”

“What kind of game was it?”

“Brody’s favorite kind. He tells the gals he’s gonna give each of ’em a pistol with one bullet in it. Whichever one shoots the other can go home, back to her life. But he’s gonna keep a videotape of her killing the other one, to use if she ever tries to tell her FBI friends any of what happened. And if the winner tries to go into witness protection, something like that, he’ll do the same thing to a family member or friend. These gals can’t believe it at first, right? But then they see old Brody is serious—they see the two pistols—and they freak out. One asks how Randall can let this happen after he’s made love to her, to both of them. He just laughs and says he’s planning to screw the winner for old times’ sake.”