'Karen, Ellen Crease has already made Lamar Hoyt her victim. Do you want to be her victim, too? Crease did
not give Lamar a chance to fight back. We are giving you that chance.'
Fargo considered what the man said while he waited patiently. Then she started talking. When she was through, the man asked her questions and she answered them truthfully. When he was satisfied with what he heard, he told her what to do.
'How do I get in touch with you?' she asked as he crossed the room.
'Don't worry about that.'
He stepped into the pool of light near the front door. Then he was gone and Fargo realized that the only thing she knew about her visitor was that once upon a time something had happened to him that was violent enough to leave a jagged scar on his right cheek:
Chapter 9.
[1]
Hoyt & Son's West Side Home of Heavenly Rest was a white, three-story building that resembled a plantation home in the antebellum South. Lou Anthony knew that there were four other Homes of Heavenly Rest in Oregon, as well as two Heavenly Rests in Seattle, Washington, one in Butte, Montana, and one in Boise, Idaho. Junior's office was here on the West Side.
A crystal chandelier hung over the foyer, but the lighting was subdued. As Anthony entered through the wide front doors, a tall, solemn-looking man in a mourning coat approached him.
'Are you with the Webster party?'
'No, I'm not.' Anthony flashed his badge. 'I'm looking for Mr. Hoyt.'
The man examined the badge for a moment while Anthony listened to the soft strains of organ music that floated toward him from somewhere in the building.
'Take the hall on your right. There's a set of stairs at the end. Mr. Hoyt's office is at the top of the stairs.'
The interior of the funeral home was dark woods and dark red draperies, all under subdued lighting. There were two chapels on Anthony's left as he walked down the hall. One was empty, but a small group of mourners gathered in the other talked in hushed tones. A casket dominated the room. A heavyset woman wept in the front row. Two young men in ill-fitting black suits tried to comfort her.
Anthony found the office easily. An attractive blonde wearing too much makeup was talking on the phone when he entered. She glanced at Anthony, told the caller that she would get back to her and hung up.
'I'm here to see Mr. Hoyt,' Anthony said when he had the woman's attention.
'What does this concern?'
Anthony showed the woman his shield. The secretary disappeared behind the only other door in the office. A moment later, she emerged and held it open.
The office had the same subdued decor as the rest of the funeral home. Junior was sitting behind his desk. He did not look pleased to see Anthony.
'What's this about?' Junior asked brusquely. 'I'm pretty busy.'
Anthony sat down across from the mortician without being asked.
'I have a few questions I want to ask you. I decided to wait until after the funeral. How did it go?'
Junior's aggression disappeared.
'We gave Dad the best we had. Our Royal Deluxe.'' Junior looked thoughtful. 'It was so odd seeing him laid out. I see people every day like that, but when it's your own father ...'
Junior caught himself, embarrassed by his show of emotion. 'You said you had some questions?'
'Just a few. I'll try to make this quick. I understand that you and your father had an argument at Hoyt Industries headquarters a few days before he was killed. What was that about?'
Junior's face registered fear and surprise.
'Who told you that?'
'I'm afraid I can't reveal my sources.'
'I bet it was that turd Appling. Well, the argument was a big nothing. Just a disagreement about some changes I made at Heavenly Rest.'
'There wasn't any more to it?'
'No,' Junior answered nervously. 'Why are you interested in an argument I had with my father, anyway? I thought the police believed that this was just a burglary by that guy Jaworski.'
'Jablonski,' Anthony corrected Junior. 'Martin Jablonski. You didn't happen to know him, did you?'
'Why would I know him?'
Suddenly, Anthony's reason for asking the question dawned on Junior.
'What the fuck is going on here? You're not suggesting ...'
'I'm not suggesting anything.'
'Well, I think you are. If you really want to find out who's behind my father's murder, investigate Ellen Crease.'
'You made the same accusation against Senator Crease when you were at the mansion on the night your father was murdered. Why do you think your stepmother . . .'
'That cunt is not my mother ...'
'Senator Crease, then. Why do you think that she had something to do with your father's murder?'
Junior snorted with derision. 'You're some detective. Don't tell me you don't know yet.'
'Know about what?'
'Dad was going to dump her. She was on the way out. Then good-bye, sugar daddy.'
'Why do you think that your father was planning to leave Senator Crease?'
'You don't know much about my father, if you're asking that question. His wives all had a shelf life of about seven years and he began cheating on them way before he dumped them. Ask my mom.'
'So you're going on your father's history with women? You don't have any concrete evidence that your father was going to divorce Senator Crease?'
'No. I just know my father,' he answered bitterly. 'He was a user.'
'You don't seem to have liked him much.'
Junior seemed suddenly subdued. 'My father walked out on my mother and he never hid how he felt about me. No matter what I did, it was never good enough. He told me to my face what a disappointing incompetent I was, more than once.'
'He let you run this business.'
'I'll give him that. But he made it pretty clear to me that I could never expect anything more from him.'
'Like letting you run Hoyt Industries. That was something you must have wanted.'
'Are you kidding? That company is worth millions,' Junior answered with a combination of anger and wistfulness. 'The bitch will get those shares now. My only regret is that my father won't get a chance to see her run his life's work into the ground.'
[2]
Lou Anthony reached two conclusions as soon as he saw the young woman who was waiting in the reception area of the Portland Police Bureau Detective Division. The first was a no-brainer. The woman was gorgeous, with smoky emerald eyes and hair the shade of auburn that takes your breath away when the leaves change color in the fall.
Anthony's second conclusion was that the woman would rather be someplace else. Her slender hands fidgeted in her lap and she sat too straight, as if preparing for flight. Anthony walked over to her and she stood up quickly. The detective figured her for five four, but she seemed taller because she was wearing heels.
'My name is Lou Anthony. I'm the detective in charge of the Lamar Hoyt case. I understand you have something you wanted to tell me.'
The young woman looked lost. She glanced around the reception area. Anthony guessed that she had something to say but was not sure that this was the place she should be saying it.
'Why don't you come back with me?' Anthony said, holding open the door that led to the wide-open spaces where the detectives worked on the thirteenth floor of the Justice Center. The woman walked through the door and
