Sedona Law 6 by Dave Daren (best non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📗

There’s a lot of good people in this town. Leila Jaxson, Landon Verhelst, AJ Castillo to name a few.”

He nodded slowly and rubbed his chin in thought.

“They’re all doing the same thing in different directions,” I said. “And none of them are getting anywhere. What I’m proposing is to bring them all together under one common umbrella. Streamline all their unfocused energies into something that actually gets somewhere. For that, you’d need funding.”

“Which you’ll willing to provide,” he said.

“Exactly,” I said. “I’d need a realistic budget. You can work with Leila on coming up with that. As soon as you’ve got a business plan together, I’d give you the seed money.”

“For what percentage?” he asked.

“We can work something out,” I said.

He looked back at his monitors and then around the RV.

“Or,” I said. “You can turn it down, and keep your pride, and keep living here.”

“I like living here!” he laughed. “But, you make a good point.”

“Think about it?” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too long,” I said. “AJ and Leila are out there kicking ass and taking names. They’ll find the funding.”

“And I won’t?” he replied.

“You have,” I said. “If you want to be a business owner, there’s a phrase you’ve better get used to… It’s all who you know. Catch ya later, bro.”

“Adios, Henry,” he replied, and I could sense a bit of shellshock in his voice.

I turned and walked out of the RV. On the drive back to the office, Vicki conferenced me in on a call with a wedding planner.

“Her name is Jessica Owens,” Vicki told me. “She’s in Tucson, but she’s supposed to be the best. She did weddings for some of the Cardinal’s players.”

“NFL players, huh?” I replied. “Now there is a group known for their good taste, only third to rappers and famous teen moms.”

“Shut up you,” she said. “Andrea McClellan recommended her.”

Andrea McClellan was the mayor who had also sold us the land we were building on our house on. She and Vicki had become something like friends.

“Okay,” I said. “Let patch this Jessica Owens in.”

For the next twenty minutes, I drove back from the Red Rocks, I listened to my fiancee and the wedding planner gush over flowers and lights and candles and dress designers.

All I could think about was if the Kenyan Wildlife Fund was in fact a front for contraband smuggling. How much did he donate and why? I could see James Matthews getting into a mood about animal rights. It seemed like exactly the sort of thing he would do.

If I could convince the jury of that, and provide receipts for the donation, then I could shed doubt on the idea that these people smuggled elephant tusks in. However, James donated, not Kelsi. That would create something of a problem.

I tuned back in to hear that my wedding would be on April 23, the third Saturday that month.

My wedding.

I was getting married.

Flowers. Caterers. Tablecloths. Music. Honestly, between Vicki and apparently now Jessica Owens, I didn’t need to care. What did it matter if we served fish or chicken? This was about Vicki and me, and what we had together. The rest of it all, was bullshit.

I just hoped I could keep that perspective for the next six months.

When I arrived back at the office, Vicki was on the phone with Jim, and AJ was in class. She took classes at the community college.

I made a cup of coffee, and was listening in on the house plans, when I got the call from Kelsi.

“Hey, Kelsi,” I greeted her. “I take it you made bail.”

“I did,” she said. “I got out this morning.”

“Congratulations,” I said. “Well now that you’re out, I’ve got a few things I need you to check on.”

“Okay,” she replied hesitantly.

“Let’s talk about the Africa trip,” I said.

I found her resulting silence suspicious.

“You came back early, is that correct?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “We left the kids with a babysitter. Our son got sick and so I came home early.”

“After you left,” I said. “The band went on a safari.”

“Right,” she said. “I saw the photos. They didn’t go hunting or anything.--”

“I understand,” I said. “But your husband allegedly made a contribution to a wildlife conservation charity.”

“Uh-huh,” she said.

“Were you aware of this?” I asked.

“I was not,” she said.

“Well, according to Roy, the charity was called the Kenyan Wildlife Fund, and he made the donation using a credit card.”

“Okay,” she said.

“It would look good to the jury to show that he made such a large contribution,” I said. “Can you find those records?”

“It was just a credit card?” she asked. “Do you know which one?”

“I don’t,” I said. “I’m sure you can get the statements of all of the credit cards he had with him in Africa. He would also likely have some sort of e-mail confirmation.”

“Right,” she said. “I’ll look for those.”

“Great,” I said. “Also we’ll need a copy of your return flight, showing that you returned earlier than the band.”

“Okay,” she replied. “I’ll get those as soon as possible.”

“Thanks,” I said. I was grateful she was cooperative now.

We ended the call, and Vicki dropped her bomb.

“Irwin Montague is out of the country,” she said.

“Damn it,” I said. “Where is he?”

“Europe,” she said.

“He’ll be back,” I said. “He loves his mom, and she’s in prison out here.”

“Are you so sure about that?” Vicki said. “Because he’s our kingpin.”

“I’m sure about that,” I said. “We’re going to get this guy this time.”

“I hope so,” she said. “That whole family deserves to go to jail.”

“That’s what we’re trying to do,” I said.

That was when I got a text from AJ.