Sedona Law 5 by Dave Daren (e book reader android .TXT) 📗

kids were good. Multiple depictions of the Red Rocks, of course, some wild horses, and a fox. I browsed further and noticed some telling family dynamics. Mom, dad, and kids sat around a breakfast table, and everyone was on their phones, except for one kid who looked bored and ignored. I commended the artistic skill in clearly communicating tension.

Then I came across the most disturbing of the bunch.

“That’s my kid’s,” said a soft accented voice behind me.

I turned to find a strikingly beautiful Hispanic woman. She wore a tailored purple dress and had long, slender, legs in black heels. She had long, flowing black hair coming down in soft tresses and unbelievably gorgeous dark eyes.

“This one?” I asked as I gestured to the disturbing image. It was a painting of a decapitation.

“My Paul, he is troubled,” she said with a frown.

Her accent sounded like cursive--beautifully formed words and syllables connected on top of another, indistinct as separates.

“Paul,” I repeated. “So, I take it you are Julie Morales, then?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “and you are Henry Irving. My brother Alex told me you were coming. Come, come, we can talk out here.”

She gestured outside, and I followed her. Alex was right. She was eager to talk. She took me back out to the playland, which had accumulated a handful of other children now. We sat on the side at a bench, and she pointed to a child who’d just about climbed to the top of the vaulted ceiling.

“That is Paul up there,” she told me. “Here we can talk.”

“Geez,” I whistled. “Is he alright up there?”

“They believe at this school we must allow the children room to explore on their own,” she replied. “They cannot fully experience their own sense of personhood if they have not tested their own personal limits.”

“Hmmm,” I hummed thoughtfully.

It sounded like a whole lot of non-parenting parenting. Contrary to what you’d think from my folks, I had a lot of boundaries in my upbringing, and I turned out alright.

“Alex tells me you are asking about Jerry Steele’s death,” Julie went on as she turned to face me.

“Yeah,” I nodded and met her eyes, “I understand your husband Olliver knew Jerry.”

“He did,” she replied. “Jerry pressured him to sue Paul and Peter Wright, the construction company he’d worked for for many years.”

“So, he didn’t want to sue?” I asked.

“No,” she shook her head, “not really. Ollie loved the company. He called the guys he worked with his brothers. They were all thick as thieves. I guess, given the type of people they were, maybe that is more than an expression.”

I chuckled. “I heard they hired a lot of felons.”

“Ollie was one of them,” she told me. “Many years ago, Ollie was not a good person. He did things he should not have done, and he deeply regretted them. He went to prison, and when he came out, he was a different person. Slowly. He went to the Second Chance Men’s Center, and he worked the program.”

“Did you know him then?” I asked.

“No,” she replied. “I met him after he graduated. He went through the steps, got his certificate, and then Paul Wright took him under his wing and helped him. He loved Paul Wright. Ollie worked for Paul for years,” he said. “And then we got married, and Paul was born. Ollie became a supervisor, and everything was good.”

“So, when did things go bad?” I questioned as I cocked my head to the side.

She sighed. “One day, Ollie was on the scaffolding, and he fell. He was horribly injured. And the Wright’s were deeply saddened. They came, and they helped us. They gave him extra pay, and we got the insurance money.”

“Right,” I nodded, “I read about this in the paper. And from the story I read, Ollie switched and became greedy because of Jerry.”

She laughed bitterly. “Is that what it said? That is wrong. That is not what happened.”

“Then what happened?” I asked as I leaned forward.

“Jerry knew terrible things Ollie had done many years ago,” Julie explained. “Really bad things. Things I will not say. Things the police did not know.”

“How did Jerry know them, then?” I questioned with a frown.

“Jerry knew a man named Allen Wagenshutz,” she replied. “Allen knew many things, and Jerry owed Allen lots of money. Lots and lots of money.”

“Ahhh,” I murmured as I furrowed my brow. “Do you know why?”

“I don’t for sure know,” she shook her head, “but I think I heard Ollie say one time something about a bad film investment.”

“That sounds about right,” I mused. “How much money was Jerry in with Allen?”

“Millions, I know,” she shrugged, “and Allen had threatened to kill Jerry if he did not pay back.”

“So, how does that relate to Ollie?” I asked.

Julie sighed, and just then, more kids entered the playground as a wave of the art show patrons exited. Parents and nannies mingled among the playleaders while the children attacked the playland. Two young women passed by us with strollers in a discussion about child nutrition that had just about the same level of intensity that ours had about a murder. Once they’d passed, Julie continued.

“So, Jerry met Ollie in the hospital,” she told me, “and said he’d heard about Ollie’s accident and that it was a goldmine. At first he said he was doing a news story, and Ollie didn’t want to turn against the Wright’s. But Jerry was desperate and blackmailed Ollie into suing.”

“Whoa.” I blinked in surprise. “What did Jerry have on Ollie?”

“I cannot tell you,” she said as she chewed her lip worriedly, “but it was bad. Really bad. Things Ollie would have never wanted anyone to know. He used to be a different person, as I said.”

“So, Ollie sued the Wright’s to stay