“I’m glad I can help. Where do you want me to start?”
Dorchester grinned broadly and handed Adrian a box jammed so full it was nearly overflowing. “The top documents in this box are dated around the year the casino was first pitched. See if you can find anything about the original deal inside. We’re looking for names of the players involved or anyone who threatened him. Gabe and I will pay a visit to Robertson’s attorney tomorrow, but I’d like to have some solid details before we start asking questions.”
There were three boxes that appeared to have the most recent clippings in them, so Whitworth, Dorchester, and I each took a box and began digging through them. I found some bank statements in my box that told me that Mr. Robertson was not a poor individual. As mistrusting as he was, the amount of money he had in deposits in two county banks was staggering; all the account balances well exceeded the limits protected by FDIC insurance.
“Does anyone else think it’s weird that Robertson would leave millions of dollars unprotected in two banks?” I asked.
“How many millions are we talking?” Adrian asked.
“Three million that I can find,” I replied. “It’s hard to say what might be in Robertson’s safe deposit box.”
“It’s not that unusual,” Whitworth replied. “Investments like mutual funds, stocks, and bonds aren’t protected by the FDIC, just bank accounts and certificates of deposits. He might’ve been old school and trusted low-interest returns more than riskier investment vessels that had an opportunity to make more money. It would be a risk either way unless he wanted to divide his money between several banks. Hell, he would’ve needed twelve different banks.” Okay, so maybe Whitworth did add value to the team.
“We’ll copy the bank records then hand them over to his attorney for his estate,” Dorchester commented. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a paper trail that leads back to our killer.”
“That’s how it works on television,” Adrian remarked with a snort. “Hey, what’s this?” he asked suddenly, pulling a small 3 X 5 notebook out of the box. “Guys, I think this is the kind of thing we need. They’re the notes he made after meeting with the consortium. Check this out!”
2/5/13
Met with ML and RS regarding casino. He offered me ten million dollars. I insisted on meeting DM in person before I’d accept an offer. I want him to look me in the eye, shake my hand, and I want guarantees. I want them from him, not his lackeys.
2/12/13
Met the man himself. DM is friendlier than I thought. He brought RS and that weasel ML back with him. He’s sneakier and more deadly than an old dog’s fart. DM agreed to terms. Putting it in writing for lawyers to review.
2/20/13
Meeting with DM, ML, and our attorneys to review and sign paperwork. Those little asshole nephews aren’t getting shit when I die.
3/25/13
Meeting with county commissioners set for April 1st. Hope the joke isn’t on me.
4/1/13
The casino was shot down in a 5-4 vote. DM said he has a way of getting around it. We’ll get enough signatures on a petition to get the issue on the ballot.
7/5/13
400,000 signatures were needed. We got 800,000. Casino goes on the ballot.
11/4/13
Casino initiative failed. Only 37 % voted to build it.
11/5/13
DM retracted offer for the land.
“That’s the last entry in this notebook,” Adrian said.
“DM is Drew McCarren, CEO of McCarren Consortium Inc.,” I told Adrian. “I don’t know who the other initials belong to though. We need to find out. Let’s see if we can find a recent notebook in these boxes. If not, we’ll check his house again for it,” I said.
We searched through the most recent boxes and didn’t find another notebook, so Dorchester and I planned to return to Robertson’s house first thing the following morning before we met with Robertson’s attorney and head to Cincinnati to update the task force. I felt it was crucial to figure out who the other players were on Drew McCarren’s team.
We put everything back in the boxes, tagged them in as evidence, and the four of us packed them down in the storage room in the basement of the building. Once we finished, Dorchester called the law office of Rylan Broadman and notified him of his client’s death and scheduled to meet him at ten in the morning on the following day. That would put us in Cincinnati around noon to meet with the rest of the task force and discuss the next steps in the case.
I felt like I had done all that I could that day, but I couldn’t say I was going home with a sense of accomplishment. Instead, my heart felt heavy with the responsibility of tying the Turner and Robertson cases together. In my heart, I knew they were connected. The casino was the only common denominator that made sense. I knew that by solving their cases, I’d bring closure to Owen Smithson’s family too.
