Ghost on the Case (Bailey Ruth #8)(12)
Buoyed by sugar, I pulled a sheet of paper from my pocket. Susan had given me her insights about the luncheon guests. I wanted to refresh my memory of each of the seven before I utilized Sam’s computer to do a more extensive search. I placed the sheet with Susan’s information on Sam’s desk.
Present at Luncheon
George Kelly—Wilbur’s lawyer. Flamboyant. As tall as Wilbur, but lanky. Wears Tony Lama cowboy boots. As loud as Wilbur, too. An all-purpose lawyer. He won a couple of big oil and gas cases for Wilbur. The company doesn’t have in-house counsel, so George pretty much oversees everything. He bills Wilbur at least a hundred thousand a year, sometimes more. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women, looks at me a little too closely, calls me hon. He and his wife divorced a couple years ago, and he asked me out a few times. I told him I had a steady boyfriend. I don’t think he believed me.
Todd Garrett—Chief operating officer of Fitch Enterprises. Thinning brown hair, pudgy face, thousand-watt smile. Knows everybody in the company from the guy who fixes the toilets to the shop foreman to the personnel director. Divorced. Spends his weekends at his cabin down at Lake Texoma. Loves to hunt and fish.
Alan Douglas, twenty-seven. Vice president in charge of projects and designs. He has short-cut brown hair and a long face. He stoops when he comes through doorways, so I guess he’s a little taller than Wilbur. He joined the company just over two years ago. MBA from OU. He carved a model of the SIMPLE Car out of wood that he carries around with him. Wilbur said it looks like a Studebaker.
Harry Hubbard, twenty-four. Wilbur’s stepson by his second wife, Hayley. Wilbur’s been married twice. No wife presently. Neither ex lives in town. I guess they both ended up with plenty of money. Hayley’s apartment overlooks Central Park. Linda lives on her yacht, and I think it’s in the Mediterranean right now. Harry’s tall, blond, handsome, smiles a lot, flatters Wilbur, a good golfer, but, funny thing, Wilbur always wins.
Minerva Lloyd. Mid-thirties. Wilbur calls her a good companion. For that you can read mistress. Blonde by choice. Definitely not skinny. Maybe that’s why he has a Rubens nude in his bedroom, and before you ask, I only visited it last year when he had the flu and needed to dictate some letters.
Juliet Rodriguez. Hired to inventory his library. Teaches psychology at Goddard. Drop-dead gorgeous, tawny hair, olive complexion, dark chocolate eyes, an enigmatic smile.
Ben Fitch—Wilbur’s son. He doesn’t look anything like Wilbur. Dark hair. Handsome. Regular features. Blue eyes that are really bright and really look at you. He’s about six feet tall. Not nearly as big as Wilbur. There’s something about him that makes you tense. Like when a storm’s coming and you can feel electricity in the air. He came in a week ago from Hawaii. I’d never met him. I don’t think they were in close contact. Wilbur never mentioned him.
Feeling well briefed by Susan, I turned to Google. I found Gazette stories, checked addresses on Zillow for value, looked at Facebook pages. In my day private was private and you didn’t put your undies out to dry on the backyard clothesline. I suppose these days Mike Shayne would do his first search online. I made notes, filling in some blanks.
George Kelly, forty-seven, a partner in Kelly and Wallis law firm, president of the Rotary Club, a golf champion at the country club, a bulldog rodeo champion. Divorced two years ago. No children. Decree awarded six-hundred-thousand-dollar house to ex-wife and substantial monthly alimony. Pictured in society pages with several different women.
Todd Garrett, forty-eight, was active in a half dozen service groups and chief pancake flipper for the annual Kiwanis supper, owned a collection of antique cars, was divorced, no children. His FB page sported a half dozen photos of him waterskiing. Lived in a condo but owned a cabin at Lake Texoma and a spiffy Bayliner 285 Cruiser.
Alan Douglas. Math major. Won science competitions in school. Received an MBA from OU. Joined Fitch Enterprises two years ago. Single. No civic clubs. Belongs to a chess club. Likes to ski. Lives in an apartment house near downtown. If he had a significant other, there was no mention. An interior shot of a small windowless room—a rented storage space?—featured a SIMPLE Car made from plywood. The model was painted bright orange. I remembered Studebakers and nodded in recognition. I wondered if he chose that similar design as a tribute to the simplicity of the past.
Harry Hubbard. No service organizations, no church, but he sported a photo album on FB: Harry bowling. Harry at Playa del Mar. Harry snorkeling. Harry on Maui. Harry in Munich, beer stein hoisted. Harry playing poker with some cool-eyed dudes who didn’t look like frat boys. Harry’s tousled hair and boyish face exuded charm except in the poker pic.
Minerva Lloyd modeled in charity fashion shows. One outfit in particular appealed to me, a sweater beaded with sparkling fleur-de-lis, a pencil-thin camel hair skirt, and scalloped oatmeal textured flats. But there was something lacking. . . . Of course. I would set the sweater off with a multi-chain necklace and a teardrop crystal pendant. Interspersed with fashion shots were pictures of the interior of her store, Dare to Dress. Likely she modeled clothes available at her store. Running a small business takes hours of effort, care, and diligence. The income might be nice but not spectacular. Susan made the point that Minerva was Wilbur’s mistress. He might be generous, but she wouldn’t have access to the money available to a wife.
Juliet Rodriguez. Her FB entries featured a very serious photograph, hair drawn in a bun, horn-rimmed glasses, and a high-neck blouse, and a series of essays on what in my day might be called pep talks. They explored in a very bright manner: How to Deal with Adversity, The Beginning of a New You, Applying Psychology to Everyday Dilemmas, Leaving the Past Behind, Knowing Your Limits, The Magic of Smiles. I read several. Oh my, she meant so well. She not only saw the world through rose-colored glasses, she added spangles of gold and silver. I never doubted Sylvie adored her class.