Chapter 24
Thursday dawned chilly and damp. The pale disc of the sun struggled to penetrate the thick fog blanketing the scrubland. As she drove Satchel to school, Colly was relieved that his volatile mood of the previous evening had dissipated, and he was acting like himself.
“Do I have to wear my sun-sleeves? It’s not sunny,” he whined as he climbed out of the car, the Iron Man toy clutched in his hand.
Colly raised the brim of his bucket hat and kissed him on the brow. “The fog’ll burn off by recess.” She wiped away the lip-balm smudge she’d left on his skin. “Remember, Aunt Brenda’s picking you up after school for another playdate at her office.”
Satchel’s face lit up, and he trotted into the building without further protest. Back in the car, Colly phoned Avery and explained her plan—Avery was to find Jimmy Meggs or another available officer and interview the farmers on Salton Road. Being a local, she’d have better luck than Colly would.
“Find out if they saw anything suspicious Monday when the ballcap disappeared. And ask about the day Denny was killed. That’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try.”
“Where are you going?” Avery asked.
“Turbine plant. If I can catch Lowell off guard, maybe he’ll corroborate some of Jace’s story. It’s best if I fly solo,” she added before Avery could object. “He’ll be mad that you interviewed his employees the other day without his say-so.”
The Newland Wind Industries manufacturing facility lay west of town on a barren plain between two stony ridges. It was a large complex composed of some dozen windowless metal buildings, each the size of an airplane hangar. Acres of asphalt skirted the facility, dotted with storage sheds, heavy equipment, and neat rows of turbine blades awaiting transport. Colly parked in the visitors’ lot near the road. Entering through the glass doors of the closest building, she found herself in a lobby decorated with potted ficus trees and framed posters extolling the virtues of wind energy. Colly introduced herself to the young receptionist and asked her to tell Mr. Newland that she wanted to see him regarding a police investigation. That’ll piss him off , she thought. An angry Lowell would be less careful of his words.
The girl looked startled and uncertain. She reached for the desk phone, then changed her mind.
“Wait one moment,” she said, and vanished through a door behind her desk.
She returned nearly five minutes later accompanied by a plump, olive-skinned young man with round glasses, a powder-blue bowtie, and dark, short-cropped hair. He introduced himself as Manny Pareja, head of community relations. He was delighted to meet his boss’s sister-in-law. Unfortunately, Mr. Newland wasn’t available. But he, Manny, would be happy to help.
“Great, I’ve got plenty of time,” Colly said. “I’d love a tour of the place while I wait.”
Manny blinked rapidly, but his broad smile never wavered. “Certainly.”
He ushered her down a nondescript office-lined hallway—the “managerial hub,” he called it. “But the real magic happens back here.” Colly followed him around a corner and through a pair of heavy doors. Manny stopped and gestured theatrically. “The molding floor.”
They were standing in an immense room, longer than a football field, though narrower. Forklifts, golf carts, and strangely shaped vehicles of unknown purpose maneuvered along a series of crowded workstations, the sounds of their motors echoing in the cavernous space. High above, the ceiling bristled with catwalks and steel tracks supporting enormous gantry cranes. Down the center of the space marched a series of gigantic shell-like molds. They were long—fifty yards each, Colly estimated—broad at one end and tapering at the other, as if a turbine blade had been filleted like a trout and laid, open-faced, on a long metal platform. Inside the mold nearest Colly, workers in gray coveralls were arranging long strips of white fabric in an overlapping pattern.
“These are the packers,” Manny explained. “They’re laying fiberglass sheeting. When it’s hardened, it forms the outer blade wall.”
“Do you only make blades?”
“Nowadays, yes,” Manny said. “I understand we used to manufacture more of our own components. But in a globalized economy, you’ve got to specialize. We import what we don’t make—and of course we sell and install the final product.”
He commandeered a passing golf cart and drove Colly slowly down the length of the room, explaining the purpose of each workstation with a flood of jargon that Colly made no attempt to decode. However, as they approached the last two blade molds in the line, she caught a term she recognized.
“Epoxy? This is where they add the glue?”
Manny stopped the golf cart. “Industrial epoxy-resin, yes.”
At one end of the blade mold, beside a computerized panel, stood a half-dozen white plastic tanks, each as large as a washing machine. From them, hoses ran to connectors attached to the mold.
“The computer mixes the proper ratio of epoxy and hardener, and vacuum suction pulls the mixture into the blade to saturate the fiberglass,” Manny explained. “At the next station, we fasten the two halves of the blade together. Then it goes to another building for grinding and painting.”
Colly climbed out of the golf cart to peer more closely at the plastic tanks. “I’ve heard that these longer blades need a stronger epoxy than the shorter ones.”
“Absolutely correct. We had to replace our inventory when we upgraded the blade length.” He beamed ingenuously. Whatever Jace and Lowell had done, Manny Pareja clearly knew nothing about it.
“Where’s the epoxy stored? In this building?”
“No, there’s a warehouse outside. Why?”
“Who has access to the warehouse?”
Manny frowned, and Colly quickly added, “Just curious. I’ve heard my in-laws talk about the business for ages, but I’ve never known much about it.”
“Sure, I get it.” Manny sounded uncertain. “Everything’s operated by key card. The plant foreman and the floor manager have access—and Mr. Newland, of course. I’m not sure who else.”
Colly was wondering how far she could push this line of questioning when they were interrupted by a loud and furious “Hey!”
She turned. Lowell was barreling down the production line towards them, his face red with fury. As he approached, Colly saw that his eyes were bloodshot. There was a smear of dried oatmeal on the placket of his shirt.
“What the hell’s going on, Pareja? She shows up, and you roll out the red carpet without calling me?”
Manny swallowed. His bowtie bobbed up and down. “She’s your family. I figured—”
“She’s not here for a tour, you moron—she’s doing an investigation.”
“I came to talk to you, Lowell,” Colly said. “It’s not this guy’s fault you don’t stumble in to work till ten o’clock.”
Lowell glanced up the assembly line. Most of the workers were watching them with open interest.
“Where’s the damn floor manager?” he snapped. “Get them back to work, Pareja.”
“Yes, sir .” Manny spun the golf cart in a tight U-turn and sped away up the line.
When he was gone, Lowell lowered his voice. “You’ve got some nerve, coming here to embarrass me in front of my employees.”
“You don’t need my help for that,” Colly said. “I tried to be discreet the other day, and you gave me the runaround. If you want to be left alone, talk to me.”
Lowell raised his Newland Industries ballcap and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Fine. But not here.”
He grabbed her arm and hurried her through a door marked “Exit” at the end of the room. The morning fog had dissipated. The sun now shone bright in a cloudless sky. Lowell led the way across a wide span of tarmac and into a labyrinth of finished turbine blades that were lined up on metal cradles in long, parallel rows like gigantic knives in a drawer. The blades towered above them on either side, blocking the sunlight, and with no visible point of reference, Colly soon felt lost.
“That’s far enough,” she said, pulling away from Lowell’s grip.
He turned to face her, crossing his arms. “Ask your damn questions.”
She squared her shoulders. “I want to know why you planted that dead snake in Brenda’s van Monday night. Did you really think that would chase me off?”
Lowell’s eyes widened comically. “What the hell?”
“I have a witness who saw you do it.”
“Then they’re either blind, stupid, or lying. Get a lawyer, depose me if you want—I’ll swear to it.”
Colly studied his face. His outrage seemed genuine. She didn’t think he was the shadowy figure Jace had seen by the van that night.
“You don’t deny you’re upset that I’m investigating?”
“I don’t care what you do, as long as you’re not a pain in my ass.”
“Then why’d you punch Russ for bringing me here?”
Lowell laughed. “If I punched Russ every time I wanted to, he wouldn’t have much of a face left.”
“That’s no answer.”
Lowell shrugged. “Been a rough year for the company. I didn’t want him stirring things up.”
“Were you scared I’d find out you embezzled?”
This time, nothing changed in Lowell’s expression, but his face grew rigid. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb. Jace Hoyer has the proof. Or didn’t you know he kept hard copies of all the documentation? They were in an envelope in his freezer—I found it yesterday when we searched his place.”
Bluffing was always risky, but Colly knew immediately that the gamble had paid off. Lowell’s eyelids flickered, and he opened and closed his mouth.
“Hoyer’s making a big deal about nothing,” he said finally. “It was a cash-flow problem, that’s all. I borrowed—and I was paying it back.”
“Is that how Iris would see it?”
“Gimme a break—she would’ve loaned me the money if I asked.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Didn’t need the guilt trip.” Lowell took off his cap, waving it for emphasis. “Dad wanted me to run the business, but she waltzes in after he died like it’s one of her little home-renovation projects, throwing her weight around with no idea what the hell she’s doing.”
“Just when you’re up to your neck in debt. Bad time for an embezzlement scandal.”
“Like I said, I was paying it back. I just needed time.”
“If only Iris hadn’t screwed everything up, insisting on those upgrades, huh?” Colly stepped closer. “You raised what money you could and ordered Jace to work his magic for the rest?”
“Keeping overhead down was part of his job.”
“He was good at it, too, wasn’t he? Everything was humming along, till that turbine accident. I bet at first you thought, This is my golden ticket—I’ll sue the epoxy manufacturer for all they’re worth . You were going to let them take the blame for that woman’s death and pay you enough in damages to get you out of the hole. Must’ve been a shock when Jace told you what he’d done, how he mixed the old and new epoxy to save money. How you signed off on it because you were too damn drunk to know better. Now Iris is pushing for an internal audit that could bring the PUC breathing down your neck, maybe even land you in prison. Your life’s a house of cards, Lowell, and it’s coming down.”
Lowell’s face was white. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. “Hoyer tricked me into signing those orders. I was going through a divorce, for Chrissakes. I was still in shock from what happened to Randy and Victoria.”
At the mention of her family, Colly felt the blood rush to her face. “Man up, Lowell. Take some responsibility for once in your life.”
Lowell’s right hand balled into a fist. He took a half-step forward, but when Colly laid a hand on her sidearm, he stopped.
“Say what you want.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the back of his neck. “That woman’s blood’s on Hoyer’s hands, not mine.”
“The law would take a different view. So would Brenda.”
“Meaning—?”
“I bet it was an ugly surprise when she started counseling Denny Knox. You were scared of what he might tell her, right? Maybe scared enough to kill him?”
“I wasn’t even in town that day.”
“You might’ve hired a hitman.”
“Are you crazy? Think I wanted the Rangers crawling around, prying into our business? Besides, if I killed Denny, I sure as hell wouldn’t dump his body on my own land. How dumb do you think I am?”
Colly shrugged. “Dumb enough to embezzle.”
Lowell made a sound of disgust. “I can’t change that now.” He shoved the handkerchief into his pocket. “You arresting me?”
“I’m not a cop anymore.”
Lowell swallowed. “You gonna tell Momma and Brenda?”
It’s gone beyond that , Colly thought. Avery knows, and Jace, and God knows who else. There’s no un-ringing this bell. “You didn’t mention Russ,” she said aloud. “Is that because he already knows?”
A flicker of some strong emotion—fear, perhaps, or anger—crossed Lowell’s face. “Ask him yourself. I’m done talking.”
“I think I will. And if I get even a whisper of a hint that you’ve tipped him off, I’ll call the Rangers and report everything.”
But Lowell was already moving away. “I got work to do,” he said over his shoulder. “Find your own way out.”
Back at her car, Colly phoned Russ.
“Hey, what’s up?” His voice was cheerful.
“Where are you?”
“Heading to the ranch. Told Momma I’d look in on how the Rattlesnake Rodeo setup’s going.” He paused. “Everything okay?”
“Not exactly. I’ll meet you there.”