Chapter 18. Ruffled Feathers #2
On the hour-long drive home, I mulled over the murder case while Collin sang along with the playlist we’d assembled together.
We’d become obsessed with a new alternative rock band out of Los Angeles called HONEYWRECK.
He banged his head along with the drumbeat as he belted out the lyrics.
“I run back to the earth, back to the sun, wondering if you know all the things I’ve done.
” The song was titled “Famous Last Words,” which made me think of Tyler Yee’s last words.
You can’t stop me! But, sadly, someone had indeed stopped him.
Tyler Yee could have been killed for something he’d already published or on which he’d released a podcast, such as the electric cooperative scandals or Senator Kingsley Atkinson’s lawsuit against the children’s charity hospital, matters that I had yet to dig into.
But he could have been killed for something he had yet to publish, something that was still in the research process.
Or the motive could be as simple as romantic jealousy, and Quentin Sanderson could be the culprit.
If he’d hired someone to kill Tyler, maybe that same someone had been keeping a surreptitious eye on me while Quentin was in jail, realized I was performing my own investigation, and planted the scarecrow in the barn to try to get me to give up my pursuits.
But Detective Alonzo had yet to be able to tie Sanderson directly to Tyler’s death.
Had she done so, she would have let me know.
I wondered whether the fact that Tyler had been killed at the barn had anything to do with the barn itself or, more broadly, the Pittman property.
Whoever killed him knew he was at the barn.
Either they’d followed him out there or knew he’d be there.
Presumably, his girlfriend was close enough to him to know his work schedule.
Could she have killed him for some reason?
Or maybe inadvertently shared Tyler’s whereabouts with someone she shouldn’t have?
There were any number of possibilities, so many directions this investigation could go in.
The only thing I could do right now was try to rule out any potential suspects.
I’d tentatively ruled out Deborah Holt now that I knew she hadn’t made the “big offer” on the Pittman property, that she and Gail hadn’t talked numbers.
I’d verify Deborah’s claim with Gail, of course.
But before I did that, I wanted to learn more about the developer of River Valley Ranch.
The attorney had said he didn’t think the developer would have made an offer on Gail’s riverfront property for a number of solid reasons, but he hadn’t known for sure whether the developer had, in fact, made an offer.
I wondered who was the force behind the development.
The attorney had mentioned a partnership, but who were the partners?
When we arrived home, Collin changed into his workout gear and put a hand on his belly. “Gotta work off all that maple syrup. I’m going for a run.”
I had no such concerns. With all the raking I’d done on the gravel drive the past two days, I’d earned the extra calories.
While Collin was out jogging around the neighborhood, I sat down at the kitchen table with Sawdust on my lap and ran a search of the Williamson County property records, which were available online.
Per my search, the two parcels that made up the subdivision were both owned by an enterprise called Leipers Fork Luxury Estates, Ltd.
The abbreviation “Ltd” told me the entity was a limited partnership, a business entity owned in part by parties who did not actively manage the business and had limited liability for its dealings.
In other words, silent investors. Every limited partnership had a general partner that ran the operations, but the identity of the general partner wasn’t available in the property records.
I’d have to search the Tennessee secretary of state’s business filings to determine who was in charge of things at River Valley Ranch.
I logged into the secretary of state’s website and typed in the name of the partnership.
Links to the business filings appeared. There weren’t many.
Just one annual report filed in March of the current year and the original Articles of Limited Partnership by which the business was formed in late November of the previous year.
I clicked on the link to the latter document to take a look.
The general partner was listed as Gentry Real Estate Development, Inc., a corporation owned by and named for Thad Gentry. This fact gave me pause, and I sat back in my chair to ponder the discovery. What does this mean? Does it mean anything at all?
It wasn’t surprising that Thad Gentry would be involved in real estate ventures in Leipers Fork.
Many major players in real estate were capitalizing on the growth in Williamson County in one way or another.
But Gentry had a questionable past. At one point he’d been investigated for allegedly bribing someone on the Nashville zoning board to rezone a residential property to commercial.
Law enforcement had been unable to amass enough evidence to indict either Gentry or anyone on the zoning board, and the matter had been settled out of court with Gentry agreeing to a revocation of the variance.
Could Gentry be the “developer w/ bad reputation” referenced in Tyler Yee’s notes?
I pulled out my cell phone and placed a call to Gail Pittman. I decided to be direct. “Can you tell me who made the big offer on your property?”
“Sorry. I don’t recall his name. It didn’t seem like something important to remember since I wasn’t going to sell to him.”
“Any chance it was Thad Gentry?”
“That name sounds vaguely familiar,” Gail said. “I couldn’t swear to it, though. It might just be the power of suggestion. Whatever his name was, my neighbor was familiar with it. She said she’d heard rumblings from other commercial real estate brokers about shady dealings.”
“Would you mind if I called her? I found out Gentry is behind the subdivision going in next to your property and I suspect he might have been the one to make the offer.”
“The man I spoke with didn’t mention a subdivision. He said the property would be ideal for a small-scale country club. It’s not big enough for a golf course, but he mentioned a driving range, indoor and outdoor swimming pools, tennis and pickleball courts, a clubhouse.”
The guy was definitely on to something. A country club with facilities for sports and social events would appeal to those living in the growing area, and there wasn’t another club nearby to compete with.
It wouldn’t be a big deal if tennis courts or a driving range flooded.
They could easily be repaired, if needed, once the water receded.
Before I could say anything else, Gail asked, “You think the man who made the offer could have something to do with Tyler Yee’s murder?”
“It’s a long shot,” I admitted. “Gentry’s the high-society type. Very wealthy. Far as I know, he’s never been violent, and I have no idea whether he and Tyler ever interacted with each other. But this murder is weighing on me, and I want to do anything I can to help move the investigation along.”
“Me too,” Gail said. “I can’t imagine folks will be clamoring to rent one of the Hayloft apartments if there’s an unsolved murder connected with them.” She gave me the name of her neighbor, Paula Milton, as well as Paula’s cell number.
As soon as I ended the call with Gail, I called Paula.
She confirmed Thad Gentry was the one who’d made the offer.
“Like I told Gail, his offer was half again what the property is worth. There have been several sales of similar parcels in the area, and none went for anywhere near what he was offering. Regardless, she didn’t want to sell.
She was just curious if the land was worth what Thad Gentry had offered.
It’s not, though it’s still worth quite a bit.
It’ll only go up as the area gets built up. She’s smart to hang on to it.”
“Why do you think Thad Gentry made such a high offer if the comps didn’t support it?”
“You didn’t hear this from me,” Paula said, “but he’s known to put contracts on properties just to keep his options open.
He’ll make a big offer to outbid the competition, and put down a small amount of earnest money.
Then he’ll drag things out, saying he wants to get environmental studies done, have the soil and water tested, and so on.
He’ll push the closing date out further and further, claiming he’s got a conflict or will be traveling or some other excuse. ”
My studies for the real estate exam came in handy once again.
I knew that, unless a real estate sales contract specifically used certain magic lingo, such as “time is of the essence” or identifying a specific date by which the closing had to occur, the closing date was not set in stone and could become a point of contention.
Paula continued to fill me in. “The longer things go, the more frustrated and desperate the sellers become. More often than not, Gentry will threaten to renege on the contract on the grounds that there is some type of problem with the soil or drainage or removal of existing structures. People suspect he’s got the inspectors in his pocket and that their reports aren’t reliable, but it would cost the seller money and time to fight about it, and drag things out even longer.
In many cases, Gentry ended up getting the properties for far less than other potential buyers had offered. ”
“And the seller got screwed.”
“Exactly. Word’s getting around, though, and brokers are advising their clients not to accept an offer from Gentry, no matter how good it sounds.
Not all clients will listen. Some just see dollar signs and take a chance he’ll be on the up-and-up, but many end up sorry they didn’t listen to the professionals. ”
I thanked her for the information and we ended the call.
I set my phone down and picked up my cat, stroking his head as I thought.
I did some of my best thinking with Sawdust in my arms, but I didn’t know what to think today.
Gentry had made a too-good-to-be-true offer to Gail, and was likely the “developer w/ bad reputation” in Tyler’s notes.
But Tyler had a lot of irons in the fire, and had only heard about the offer the week before, when Gail mentioned it to me.
I remembered him asking her about the offer as Buck and I headed off.
Had Tyler even contacted Gentry? It was possible he hadn’t.
After all, he was also working on the story about plant-based diets and possibly stories on the other topics, the Underground Railroad and stalking crimes.
Even if Tyler Yee had contacted Thad Gentry for an interview, would Gentry have agreed to talk to him?
Gentry was a busy man, and indulging a reporter who was looking to dig up dirt didn’t seem like a wise use of time.
Neither did my continuing to ponder this highly unlikely lead, especially when I could curl up in my comfy bed with Eenie Meenie Miney Mine and my sweet little cat.
I set my thoughts aside, and picked up my book.