“Sort of. I can’t prove anything, but I’m pretty sure the Wissler family had Fredrick killed, and then had Frieda killed when she brought you in to look into his death.”
“That’s exactly the conclusion I’ve come to.”
“Like I said, I can prove literally none of it. We’re still jumping all over the place, and I’m not any clearer than I was five minutes ago. Walk me through everything that’s happened since you got here.”
“You seem to know most of it. I got a call from someone I’d never heard of named Frieda Wissler. She explained that I’m a distant relative of theirs. Apparently, my great grandfather decided to leave the family and come to America, something about a disagreement with family business decisions. I’d never heard any of that, I’d always heard that he came to America without any living family, changing his name to Whitaker to better fit in.”
“Your sister said about the same thing.”
Whitaker let out a small gasp and said, “You talked to my sister?”
“Yeah. Joe only knew you’d gone to Europe to visit a distant relative. Considering how serious the situation was, I wanted to get some more information, so I wasn’t poking around blind. I did a little research on the family on my own. While there was some interesting stuff there, I never found any mention of a member of the family breaking off and going to America.”
“No, apparently he was basically written out of the family all together the moment he stepped on the boat for America. Still, it was brave of you to visit my sister. I ... I might have vented my frustrations about you to her a little bit.”
“Yeah, that came up. Once I told her you were in trouble and what I was doing, she became cordial and was helpful enough. You Whitakers are nothing if not practical.”
“Still …”
“Let's put a pin in that for now, and focus on why we’re hiding in a rent by the hour motel.”
“Right. Anyway, Frieda felt Fredrick had been murdered. She admitted he had a disease that would have killed him eventually, but she thought something was wrong with the timing.”
“His dying so soon after being pushed out of the family business?”
“Exactly. She’d tried to talk to the police, but everyone wrote her off as old and just in mourning for her husband. She’d never had much of a life outside of the family, apparently, so she didn’t know where to turn to. She’d remembered hearing something about her relative who went to America, did some digging, and found out that one of his descendants was in law enforcement.”
“How did she convince you?”
“She didn’t, not really. I told her that the police were probably right, and it was natural causes, but she kept pushing for me to come look into it, just to give her peace of mind. I was still royally pissed at you, and Kara kept making little comments about us getting back together. Frieda’s offer of a free trip to Germany sounded like just the way to get away from it all, at least for a little while.”
Taylor frowned and said, “I specifically told Kara, multiple times, to not push you into a decision.”
“I figured, and I didn’t blame you for that. You know how strong-willed she is. I just needed some space, so I agreed to take the job. At first, everything seemed to be playing out like I thought it would. I had to pull some strings to get in and see his autopsy…”
She paused, her voice catching in her throat. A tear rolled down her left cheek as she closed her eyes tight, trying to pull herself back together.
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Thanks,” Whitaker said, her voice still quivering. “We weren’t super close or anything, but we’ve been friends for a while. She was one of my instructors at Quantico, and after we became friends. I brought her into this and got her killed.”
“When you got her involved, you thought it was a wild goose chase and certainly didn’t think it was dangerous. You can’t blame yourself for what happened. Also, from what I’ve read, she was a smart lady and was able to make her own decisions. Don’t take her choices away from her. Had she been in trouble, I’m betting you would have stepped in and helped her and, if things had gone the other way, you wouldn’t want her beating herself up over this.”
“I guess, but it’s still …”
“Yeah, I know.”
After a moment to push those thoughts back, Whitaker continued, saying, “Anyway, the autopsy seemed to be exactly what the medical examiner said it was. I sent his files to a medical consultant, who agreed with the M.E.’s findings.”
“When did you decide your aunt wasn’t making it up?”
“She had this journal written by Fredrick. When I first read it, I wrote it off as the ramblings of a man with dementia. It was basically a note to himself about things at the Wissler trust, I guess, so he could remember them. The problem was, a good portion of his notes indicated a wide range of illegal activity. Smuggling, bribes, paying off regulators, abductions, and even some murders.”
“Where’s the Journal now?”
“I stashed it in a different self-storage place. I didn’t want to carry it on me in case I got caught but decided to keep it separate from the other stuff, just in case. Anyway, while I first thought the journal was meaningless, Frieda had this crate of documents she’d put together from stuff she’d found digging through the stacks of documents Fredrick had brought home before he died. Knowing what I know now, I’m betting it was carting all those documents home that got him killed. I’m pretty sure had he
