Otter Under Fire (25 page)

“Do you know how many sections there are to this?”

“It can be as many as you want. There isn’t a minimum or a maximum limit.”

“I feel a headache coming on,” Tempest said.

“Oh boy,” Otter said. “Well, we’ll deal with that later. Right now we thought you should see what is in this first section.”

They crowded around the table and looked at the screen as document after document zoomed past.

“Did Clark ask you if you would show him how to use any of your programs?” Otter asked Jeremy.

“Yes, last spring he came by the house to see how I was doing and I showed him a facial recognition program I had just finished. He asked if I’d show him how it worked.”

“Facial recognition…” Otter said.

“Yeah, he asked if he could take a copy home with him to play with.”

“Did he take copies of your software often?”

“Oh yeah, all the time, he test piloted a lot of it for me.”

“Here’s what he did with your programs,” Tempest said putting a neatly polished nail in the screen and going down a column of numbers. “He sold it and the money he made he invested. See? The first account is for apps that Jeremy made, the second account is for the software. Wow, nice total. The third is the interest payments earned from the first two accounts.”

“He was quite a salesman.” Otter said.

“I don’t understand,” Jeremy said, “Uncle Clark took my ideas and he sold them?”

“Looks like it and he put the money in investment accounts under your name.” Otter said, “He made a huge pile of money for you, Jeremy. There’s your life insurance policy. I’ll bet that the receipts and papers I found were from brokerage accounts. Clark just wrote ‘life insurance policy’ on them.”

“I don’t understand why he would do that.”

“Were you going to sell your ideas eventually?” Susan asked.

“Well yeah, but this stuff wasn’t that good.”

“Did Clark ever tell you to go back and work on a particular piece of software a little more? Did he tell you that it wasn’t working right?” Otter asked.

“Yeah, he would come back on a few things. He thought they could be refined or more efficient.”

“How long has he been doing that for you?”

“Years,” Jeremy said. “He’s been doing it for about five or six years.”

“Shows,” Tempest said. “These accounts have been established for some time. The investment accounts show how much money you have, but the payment account shows your quarterly disbursements. Since only a few checks have been written against the account in your name, you have quite a lot of money waiting for you to use. There’s probably not a lot of interest on that account. It looks like a checking account. ”

“But I don’t have a book or any way to find that money.”

“It’s all right here,” Tempest said impatiently. “That’s what I’m telling you. Everything you need is right here. The account numbers, the financial institutions and the fiduciary that helped him set it all up. If you call this guy, he will probably help guide you through the steps.”

“You mean all that money belongs to me? I can go to school?”

“You can do anything you want to,” Tempest said. “You could live very comfortably off of this for a long time.”

“No,” Jeremy said firmly, “My dad and I made an agreement with him. If he helped me out, I would go to school. It would be a poor way to thank him to not keep my end of the bargain.”

“Makes sense,” Otter said. “Did Clark give you any feedback on the facial recognition software?”

“Um, yeah,” Jeremy looked a little unfocused. “Let me think for a minute. He said that he put in the face of a friend and he found that guy’s childhood friend. He was really excited that the guy was another Mormon bishop. He had plans to go to a conference and this guy he found was going there too. Uncle Clark said they were going to meet.”

“Bingo,” Otter said, looking at Susan. To Jeremy, who was still staring into space she said: “Did Clark tell you who the friend was? The person whose face he put in your software?”

Jeremy shook his head a little, still looking like he was trying to focus. “Uh, no, he didn’t, he just said it was one of his shooting buddies. Listen, I don’t mean to be rude but I need to go home. I need to tell my grandma about all this. I said so many nasty things about Uncle Clark all this time; I need some time to give him my apologies.”

“You might want to know, Jeremy,” Otter said, “but Clark didn’t take any of your money for himself. You can go through the documents and see if I’m wrong, but it looks like everything was saved for you.”

“There are a few checks written against the account,” Tempest said. “They’re made out to you, Jeremy.”

Otter installed her printer and connected the laptop to her Wi-Fi and printed all the documents to give to Jeremy. When the documents finished printing, the keypad came back on the screen. After she handed the sheaf of papers to him, she gestured to the computer with her head.

“Jeremy, would you finish up this section for us so we can continue?”

“I’ll try,” he said. He sat down at the keyboard and played with a few words. It was only a few minutes and the sound of an opening gate played. He thought for a moment and looked at the computer. “Thank you Uncle Clark. I got it.”

“You’re welcome Jeremy, have a good life.” Clark’s voice floated into the room.

And the section was finished. Another password keypad floated on the screen.

“You know, Tempest,” Otter said when Jeremy stepped outside, “If Clark was that good at investing, it may explain the question we had a while back. How they lived for a year when he was so sick.”

“Could be,” Tempest said. “By the look of those accounts, he definitely knew what he was doing.”

“Susan,” Otter said as they watched Jeremy leave.

“Yes?”

“Can you look in Clark’s appointment book and find out where he went shooting on the day he died?”

“Yeah, let me make a call. Do you remember the date?”

“The Sunday before Labor Day, whatever the date that was.”

“That’s right. Hold on.” She dialed a number then spoke to someone for a minute. She swung the phone away from her mouth, “he’s checking.”

“Why do you want to know that?” Tempest asked.

“Because most shooting ranges are attached to a gun club, all gun clubs have a membership list. We need to know the member who took Clark shooting.”

“Oh, OK, that makes sense.”

“North Scottsdale Pistol and Rifle Society,” Susan sad as she hung up the phone, “Very fancy place that one. I’ve been there a time or two.”

“I have too,” Tempest said. “It’s very beautiful. All dark wood, marble and granite in the club area, but the ammo is way too expensive.”

“We need to call Detective Addison and find out if Jameson Pennell is a member and if he took a guest on that day.”

“All right, “Susan said, dialing her phone, “I hope that whatever you’re thinking, that you know what you’re doing.”

“I hope so too, Otter said. “If everything happened the way I think it happened, then we can figure out who the killer is.”

“Hi Chris, it’s Susan. Doing ok, how are you? Listen on the McCarthy case, did you check out the gun club where he went shooting the day he died? You did? Clark wasn’t listed on the sign in sheet. But Chris, do you know if there was a Jameson Pennell on the sign in sheet? If there is, did he bring a guest? Yeah, sure, I’ll wait.”

“Clark went shooting with this guy several times before. I’m thinking as far back as last January maybe.” Otter said, “One of those times his shooting buddy flashed an ID card that has this Jameson Pennell name on it, but it’s not the proper name of the person he’s with, so Clark starts digging into this friend and doing his research trying to get some information on this person so he can be a hero.”

“So he started the periodic table thing?” Tempest asked.

“No, I think he started that a long time ago. Kind of a personal score sheet, he probably giggled to himself over it from time to time.” Otter paused and shook her head. “Once he found out about this Jameson character, he added him and juggled everyone around as support characters to his mystery.”

“Why didn’t he just go to one of the managers and tell them?” Susan asked.

“Because that’s not Clark’s way, he wanted to be in the thick of things. I’m guessing he wanted to figure this all out before he told Michael. It would be a kind of a way to pay Michael back for employing him again.”

“So he started to try to blackmail people for information.” Susan said.

“He may have tried bribes.” Otter said, “But that really isn’t his style. He liked to piss people off.”

“What a prince of a guy,” Tempest said.

“Deep down, he was a good man.” Otter said, “But his personality was so abrasive, many people didn’t see it.”

“He kept his word, as we’ve just seen,” Susan pointed out.

“I need to go back to Tonya,” Otter said, “And apologize to her about what I said about Clark before. She needs to know what this Christ Sword thing was really about.”

“We still don’t really know,” Tempest pointed out. “We’re just speculating.”

“You’re right, but I do need to talk to her. I left her very upset.”

“A couple of days won’t matter,” Tempest said, “You may know more and can give her some answers.”

“OK, so Jameson Pennell was on the sign out sheet. Did he sign in a guest? He did. Good, that makes sense then. Does Joel know? He will want this information and maybe get a warrant for their records. OK, thanks, yes we will, you too, goodbye.” She put her phone away.

“He told me to tell you to be careful.” Susan said.

“Everybody is telling me that,” Otter said. “I’m as careful as I can be and still be myself.”

“That’s why everyone is telling you to be careful,” Susan said. “I need to go get my dog and go home. Bruce and Duke make a point of having dinner together every night.”

“Do they really?” Tempest asked.

“Oh yes, I’m serious. Duke won’t touch his food until Bruce gets home and sits down to dinner. I am expected to join them, but he waits for Bruce.”

“Why is that, do you think?” Otter asked.

“Because on most nights after dinner Bruce takes Duke out for an ice cream cone,” Susan said. “There’s a little drive through place not far from us. On really nice days they walk.”

“That’s really cute,” Tempest said. “What do they think at the shop?”

“They are Duke’s biggest fans. Even if I stop by for a burger or a cup of coffee, he starts whining and they automatically make him a cone. It’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“They try to not let me pay for it, but I make them take the money. I told a few of my fellow deputies and now few other K-9 units stop there, and a lot of happy dog cops get ice cream cones. It’s good for the business too, everyone knows that we stop in all the time, the place is less likely to get too much hassle from anyone.”

“A community that doesn’t support its police force is a community destined to rot, in my opinion.” Otter said.

“They have a sign in their window that says ‘ice cream cones for all K-9’s.’ You must have seen it on the news.”

Susan opened the patio doors and Duke jumped to his feet and trotted into the house. The puppies came in after him.

“He’s a mover and a shaker,” Otter said as she patted the sleek head. Duke grinned at her and he and Susan headed out the door.

There was chaos as the puppies were fed and then the cats were fed and the puppies were bedded down in their crates in Tempest’s room. They had to come out a few more times and get petted and told they were good dogs before they finally settled down for the night. Stella, who had worn herself out running around the house was deeply asleep in her bed in the cat tree, Spooky still couldn’t hide his outrage, and made a point of sitting with his back to her. Mouse had taken off somewhere and was probably quietly contemplating her revenge.

She knew she needed to sit up and wait for him, even before she got his text. He wouldn’t be able to stay away with the new information that he got from Detective Addison. It didn’t take long, less than an hour, before she saw his car drive up on the security monitor.

“Took you long enough,” She said when she opened the door.

Joel grinned. “You didn’t tell me you were going to come up with some good stuff.” He said as he came in and presented her with a bouquet. “So now you have to tell me what you’ve been up to.” When she took the flowers, he kissed her.

“Thank you,” she said and went into the kitchen to hunt up a vase. She got the flowers ready to put in water as he watched her work expertly snipping the ends of the stems and arranging them in the vase she had found.

“You do that like you’ve done it before.”

“I took a class a long time ago. One of those things I always wanted to know how to do.”

“So you figured out that someone going by the name of Jameson Pennell is a member of a Scottsdale gun club?”

“It makes sense,” Otter shrugged as she moved the flowers around in a colorful display.