Double Cross (10 page)
“Found out what?”
I took off my white pea coat and hung it over the back of my chair. When I turned back to her I said, “Found out how exciting working for Simon Mason was going to be.”
“I’d say that’s an understatement.” She leaned forward. “It was a tragedy about Elise Hovden, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Were you close?”
I shifted my weight in my chair. “I wouldn’t call us exactly close. We did work together quite a bit, though.”
She pulled a notepad and pen out of her purse. “Do you know of any reason why she would kill herself?”
“Are we on the record now?”
“Yes, we’re on the record unless you tell me otherwise.”
“So that’s the way it works, huh? A few minutes of small talk and then swoop in for the kill.”
She lowered her notepad. “Had some bad experiences with reporters?”
“Not really. I just don’t trust them much.”
“Believe it or not, some of us are honest. All I want to do is ask you some questions. If you don’t want to answer something, just tell me. I try to be straight with my sources. That way they continue to be my sources.”
She was ruining my reporter stereotype, but I wasn’t ready to be anybody’s idiot. I crossed my legs. “Why don’t we do it this way? You’re the investigative reporter; you tell me why Elise would kill herself. You must have some idea or you wouldn’t have asked me here.”
She placed her pen on the table. “Okay, but it all depends.”
“I don’t get it. What depends on what?”
“Why Elise Hovden might kill herself depends on whether a half-million dollars is really missing from Simon Mason World Ministries.”
A man in a navy blazer, gray slacks, and an open-collared shirt walked over and sat at the table beside us. He looked at his watch and then opened the
Wall Street Journal.
Wall Street Journal.
I lowered my voice. “What gives you the idea that money is missing?”
“A source in Lewisville told me.”
I rapped my knuckles on the table. “I knew it! That creepy Officer Ferrell. Are you going to do a story on it?”
“Wouldn’t you, if you were me? By the way, I didn’t say it was a police officer who told me.”
I shrugged. “I’ve never been a reporter, so I don’t know whether I’d do a story—and I know it was Ferrell. Nobody in Lewisville could have known except the police.”
She looked at me steadily and apparently decided not to get bogged down in an argument over who her source was. “I’ve been investigating a bunch of thugs who extort money from high-profile people. I want to find out if there’s any connection here. So, how about it? Will you confirm that the money is missing?”
I watched the man in the blazer put his paper down on the table and walk to the counter. When I turned back to Parst, I said, “Okay, yes. The money is missing. That won’t be a secret for long anyway. Simon had nothing to do with it, though. He told me that himself, and the auditors have confirmed it. Simon was not a thief.”
“I don’t have any reason to believe he was. So, auditors have already gone over the books?”
“Yes.”
She picked up her notepad and wrote for a few seconds, then looked up at me. “Does this have anything to do with Elise Hovden’s suicide?”
“A minute ago, you said it depends. I’m waiting for you to tell me.”
“I heard there was a suicide note and that Ms. Hovden admitted taking the money.”
“You seem to know this story pretty well already. I don’t think it’s my place to be talking about whether there was a note. Elise has a mother who lives in the area. That’s pretty personal stuff. I will tell you that it looks as if Elise was embezzling money from the ministry. That won’t remain a secret for long either.”
“That’s fine. What I’m really interested in is whether Ms. Hovden was being blackmailed. I’m trying to expose some pretty bad people. You may have information that can help.”
I hadn’t expected that. Simon had been famous and an obvious target, but I couldn’t think of a single reason why anyone would want to blackmail Elise Hovden. “Why don’t you tell me something about these bad people and the way they operate? Then maybe I can tell you something you might want to know.”
“Have you read any of my stories lately?”
“Sorry, I’ve been pretty busy.”
The man in the blazer came back to his table sipping a cup of coffee. Right behind him was a slender blonde, maybe half his age, who sat at the table with him. He touched her hand and began talking, an earnest look on his face.
Katie leaned toward me. “These extortionists are well organized. Whether they are part of a larger criminal organization, I’m not quite sure yet. They must at least have some contact with a larger organization. They’ve become too big not to. They prey on prominent members of the community.”
“How?”
“Vice. That’s their hook. They run prostitution rings, gambling, and drugs. When they find out that a prominent person is, so to speak, patronizing one of their operations, they tighten the screws on him—or her. They threaten to expose the person publicly if they don’t get their money. You can imagine that certain high-profile people are willing to pay quite a bit to keep their names off the front page, especially in connection with drugs and prostitutes. And who knows what sort of influence they’re coughing up besides just money? Anyway, the people are too terrified to tell anyone, so it doesn’t adversely affect business for the bad guys. My story last week was about the football coach of a suburban high school. One of the best football programs in the state. He’d been betting significant money on his own team’s games—sometimes he even bet they would lose. These guys hit him up for ten thousand dollars. He was hocking school equipment to pay them off, then buying the equipment back out of hock with money he borrowed from family members.”
“Poor jerk. He paid them the money and got outed anyway.”
“Yeah. Unfortunately he couldn’t give the police a single name of anyone involved. Or he was too afraid to.”
“Well, I can’t imagine Elise was into any serious vices. She was a straight arrow. In case you’re wondering, I can tell you Simon wasn’t involved, either. You might not think highly of televangelists as a group, but he was the real deal. As I said earlier, he was a good man.”
“What did the auditors find?”
I leaned back in my chair. “I wouldn’t stay in business long if I went around blabbing about my clients’ affairs.”
She put her notepad on the table and pointed to it. “You don’t have to talk for attribution. You can be an anonymous source.”
I studied her face and tried to think of any way Kacey and I could benefit from my telling this woman more than she already knew.
“Look,” she said, “let’s get it all out on the table. I know about Simon Mason’s son, too. I know his name and I know where he lives. I’ve known about it for several weeks. I haven’t written about it, because it’s not news, it’s personal. If I were just trying to dig up a scandal, don’t you think that story would have run by now?”
I put my hands on the table. “Who told you that?”
“I wouldn’t stay in the reporting business long if I went around disclosing my sources.”
I smiled. “Touché. However, you’re the one who needs information from me. I don’t need anything from you. And if you don’t tell me who your source is, you’re not going to get your information.”
She turned her head and looked out the window. “Let me make a call.” She got up, weaved her way through the tables, and walked out the front door.
Through the window I could see her talking on her cell phone and pacing the sidewalk. While she was outside I tried to figure her angle. So she knew about Simon’s son, and she must have been suspicious that somehow the blackmailers had gotten to Simon. Was it really possible, though, that both Simon and Elise were being blackmailed at the same time? That seemed to defy the law of averages.
As I watched her pace the sidewalk, a black Honda Accord with tinted windows slid up beside her and eased to a stop. The back window rolled down just as Parst hit the button on her phone and reached for the door to come back into the shop. The window rolled back up, and the car drove away.
When Parst got back to the table, she opened her mouth, but I spoke first. “Did you see that car?”
“What car?”
“A black Honda. It was right beside you.”
She shook her head. “I was talking on the phone. What about it?”
I looked out the front window and scratched my head. “Never mind.”
She folded her arms on the table. “All right, my source about Simon’s son was Simon’s former accountant, Brandon Henckel. He gave me permission to tell you. He said you knew him.”
“Brandon? How would he know about Chase?”
She raised an eyebrow. “So, you do know about Simon’s son. You’re right, his name is Chase and he lives in Katy, Texas.”
I mentally kicked myself. There was no use trying to backtrack, though. “Okay, Kacey and I have met him. We went down there a few weeks ago.”
“Did Simon know about him?”
I was getting in too deep. I needed to think. “You know, I’m going to get that muffin now. I’ll be right back. Do you want anything?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
I got up and headed for the counter. As I walked, I tried to process the information I had. Simon was being blackmailed. Elise was embezzling money. Simon had an illegitimate son. Simon’s former accountant knew that Simon had an illegitimate son and knew that money was missing. Katie Parst was investigating a group that blackmailed prominent people who got involved in vices.
I shook my head. Too many moving parts. And wouldn’t it be an amazing coincidence if they were all unrelated? What were the odds? There had to be a connection. No wonder Parst was so interested.
I stepped up to the counter and pointed at a muffin, but by that time I wasn’t a bit hungry. I didn’t have enough information yet to put the puzzle together. Katie Parst might, though. The question was whether I should trust her. Michael said I could, and my gut told me he was right. I paid for the muffin and headed back to the table.
She nodded toward the bag in my hand. “Did you get the blueberry?”
It occurred to me that I’d been so deep in thought that I didn’t know. I ignored the question. “Can we go off the record?” I said, as I sat.
She set her pad and pen on the table. “Okay, we’re off the record.”
I looked around the table to make certain that no one could hear. “I’m going to trust you. Please don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t.”
I took the lid off my coffee cup and swirled the liquid. “Simon knew about Chase. He’d known since just after Chase was born.” I set the cup aside, leaned forward, and clasped my hands in front of me. “There’s more, though. We’re way off the record here, okay?”
“You’ve got my word.”
“Someone was trying to blackmail Simon, but it had nothing to do with gambling, or prostitution, or drugs. It was about Chase.”
She sat back in her chair. “Wow, when you go off the record, it’s worth listening. How do you know Reverend Mason was being blackmailed?”
I took a drink of my coffee. “He told me not long before he left for Beirut. Back in March, a few days before Kacey was kidnapped, Simon found a note on the windshield of his car. All that it said was,
I know about the boy.
He didn’t know what to think of it, but shortly after he found it he received a call from a man who demanded that he pay two hundred thousand dollars. He said that if Simon didn’t pay, he’d go public with the information.”
I know about the boy.
He didn’t know what to think of it, but shortly after he found it he received a call from a man who demanded that he pay two hundred thousand dollars. He said that if Simon didn’t pay, he’d go public with the information.”
“Did Reverend Mason know who was blackmailing him?”
“He had no idea.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing. Within a few days, Kacey was kidnapped. All the publicity around the kidnapping must have spooked the blackmailer. Simon never heard from him again.”
The blonde at the table next to us stood. The man in the blazer grabbed her wrist and said something I couldn’t make out. She shook his hand off and marched out of the shop. The man tilted his head back and closed his eyes.
Katie looked at him, then back at me. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I wonder what that was all about.”
“You might get a better story over there.”
She smiled. “So, did Simon tell the FBI about the blackmail?”
“No. It was obvious that the Muslim terrorists who kidnapped Kacey weren’t also trying to blackmail Simon about his illegitimate son.” The man at the table next to us glanced my way. I lowered my voice. “So Simon kept it to himself.”
“Who else knew about the boy?”
I ran a hand back through my hair. “Well, that’s where it gets even more complicated. The boy’s mother and Elise were the only ones who knew, to the best of Simon’s knowledge.”
“What’s so complicated about that?”
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