Wildfire Page 12
Brian sounded more and more like a real piece of work.
“Does he have access to cash other than his bank accounts?” Cornelius asked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Edward said. “He likes to put things away for a rainy day.”
“Are you aware of any marital issues between Brian and Rynda?” I asked.
“Rynda works very hard at being an ideal spouse for my brother. She anticipates his needs, and Brian isn’t given to emotional outbursts. My brother is quiet and easily hurt, so he prefers calm and routine.”
He didn’t answer the question.
“Has Brian expressed any dissatisfaction with his marriage?” Cornelius asked.
“Everyone expresses some dissatisfaction with their marriage once in a while,” Edward said. “He hadn’t said anything lately.”
“Could you define lately?” I asked.
“Last couple of years.”
True.
“Do you believe that Brian would permanently abandon his wife?” I asked.
“No.”
A true statement again. “Does BioCore view Rynda as a liability?”
Edward leaned forward, his gaze suddenly focused. “Rynda is never a liability. She’s a woman of grace, kindness, and incredible patience. She’s compassionate and intelligent. We are fortunate to know her. She has the full support of House Sherwood.”
The real Edward Sherwood finally made an appearance. I’d touched a nerve. He wasn’t worried about his brother, but the moment I tried to bring up Rynda, he was ready to bite my head off. Interesting.
“Did you kidnap your brother, Mr. Sherwood?”
His eyes blazed. “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.”
“Mr. Sherwood,” I said. “Rynda is extremely upset. She came to me because everyone else had turned her down. I want to resolve this as quickly as possible to minimize her emotional distress. The sooner I can eliminate you from the pool of possible suspects, the sooner we can move on to finding out what actually happened to your brother.”
“What makes you think I would tell you the truth? I could be lying.”
“I’m an excellent judge of character,” I said. “Did you kidnap your brother?”
“No.” Muscles played along his jaw.
Truth.
“Did you kill him or otherwise cause him harm?”
“No.”
“Did you order or hire someone to make Brian disappear?”
“No!”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No.”
“Do you know where he might be?”
“No.”
“Has he tried to contact you since his disappearance?”
“No.”
Not a single lie in the bunch. I rose. “Thank you, Mr. Sherwood.”
Edward got to his feet. He was furious, but his anger was tightly controlled, squeezed by his will like a fist. “Are we done?”
“We are.”
He flicked his phone and raised it to his ear. “Margaret, I need you to show some people out.”
Margaret escorted us to the exit. On our way, Cornelius had paused by a large tree, the first one we saw as Edward had led us into the inner sanctum. It stood by the entrance, supporting thick clusters of yellow mushrooms with wet glistening caps. Cornelius looked at it for a few seconds, called Talon to him, and we exited the building.
“What do you think?” I asked as we pulled the car out of the parking lot.
“I thought he was being truthful.”
“He was. For the most part. He didn’t kidnap his brother, and he has no idea where Brian went. He’s in love with his brother’s wife.”
Cornelius nodded. “She married the wrong brother.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Do you recall the tree I stopped by? The one with yellow mushrooms?”
I nodded.
“It’s called honey mushroom, and prepared the right way it can be delicious. If you prepare it the wrong way, it’s poisonous. It’s a facultative saprophyte. It kills the tree on which it grows and then feeds on its rotting wood.” Cornelius paused. “It’s growing on an apple tree.”
Brian Sherwood could’ve chosen any kind of tree to grow his mushrooms on. Instead he chose a fruit tree. And he chose to put it right at the entrance to the atrium where it couldn’t be avoided.
“Every day Edward Sherwood has to walk past that tree,” Cornelius said. “He feels it slowly dying, choked to death by the mushroom, and he can’t do anything about it.”
“Thank you. I would’ve missed that.”
“I’m glad I was useful.” Cornelius smiled.
“Brian seems to be passive-aggressive in his cruelty,” I said. “And he’s a coward. He tends to run away any time things get tough and trusts that his wife or his brother will sort it out.”
“Why are we driving so slowly?”
“Because Edward Sherwood told the truth. He did see his brother leave the parking lot in his vehicle, which means that if something happened, it happened in the three-mile stretch along this road. I don’t want to miss it.”
“What are we looking for?”
“Anything out of the ordinary. Broken glass. Chunks of a blown tire.”
“What was he driving?”
“Mercedes-Benz, S550, iridium silver metallic finish, which basically means the color of stainless steel.”
Cornelius grimaced. “I probably should’ve known that. I’ll do better next time.”
I smiled back. “It’s my fault. All of the details are in your email. At the beginning of the case, we make a basic info packet, which includes all the relevant information known to us, and Bern drops it in our email so we can access it on our phone. I should’ve told you this, but we’ve operated as a family business for so long and I’ve never hired anyone for a permanent position.”
“Do you think Brian was kidnapped?” Cornelius asked.
“Right now I’m leaning toward him abandoning everything and escaping somewhere calm for a few days. His company is on the brink of a financial disaster, his son still failed to manifest magic, and his wife, who was supposed to open the doors to the House elite, is viewed as unclean. He seems to have fooled everyone into thinking that he is sensitive and easily overwhelmed, but the tree makes me think there is some calculation in his responses . . .”
We crossed a bridge spanning a drop. Ahead the guardrail bent slightly, as if hit. I pulled over and got out of the car. A smudge of silver paint marked the bend in the guardrail. I crouched and took a picture of it with my phone. Nothing else was out of the ordinary.
“What now?” Cornelius asked.
I pivoted on my feet. Across the street a brand-new gas station was doing brisk business.
“Now we go and ask them for their security recording.”
Three minutes later, we were in the gas station. One of their security cameras did point toward that stretch of the street to cover the exit from their parking lot, and all recordings were uploaded to a server and kept for ninety days. The manager and I bargained. He asked for ten thousand dollars. I asked him if he really wanted me to come back with a cop and a warrant, which would result in him getting no money at all. He told me warrants took time. I told him to Google my name. Then he and his clerk watched Mad Rogan tear downtown apart like he was a demon from hell. We settled on two hundred bucks plus the $19.99 USB stick. Which was highway robbery for 8GB, but I decided to pick my battles.
I plugged the USB into my laptop and fast-forwarded the video.
5:00 p.m.
5:30 p.m.
5:45 p.m.
I let it run at normal speed. At 5:51 p.m., a silver Mercedes slid into view. A black SUV, maybe a GMC Yukon, rear-ended it, forcing it off the road and into the guardrail. A man got out of the Mercedes, presumably Brian Sherwood, although I’d have to ask Bug to enhance the footage to be sure.
Two men stepped out of the Yukon. The driver raised his hand. Brian crumpled to the ground. Taser. The driver scooped him up like Brian was a child and carried him into the Yukon. The passenger got into the Mercedes. At 5:52 p.m. the two vehicles pulled onto the road.