“Then where’s the money?”
“I think he was paid or blackmailed. I lean blackmail because he’s not living above his means and I don’t think he would have done it just for money.”
“That’s a quick moral assessment after a fifteen-minute conversation.”
Lucy was a bit hurt that Nate didn’t trust her psychological profile, but she probably should have given him more to go on.
“Yes, it is, and I shouldn’t have just walked out without discussing it with you. I want to watch him. Investigate him. If Max is right and Stanley Grant was threatened into confessing to Victoria’s murder, maybe Pollero was threatened into falsifying the financial authorization. Or blackmailed—because while Grant had been a gambler, Pollero could still be a gambler. And no one would want a banker to be a gambler … too great a risk to borrow money that doesn’t belong to you.”
Nate wasn’t completely appeased, but he no longer looked angry. “Maybe. But he might have talked if we pushed harder. He lied to us. I don’t like people lying to me.”
“Neither do I, Nate, and you’re right, he may have talked. But if he felt there was a threat to his family, I don’t think he would have given us everything, not without tangible proof of wrongdoing. And we can get it.”
“How?”
“He thought I was coaching him into what to say. It was a slight change in his tone, but he was relieved when he thought I gave him the answer that he had seen Denise that morning. When we threw the wrench out there that she might have already been dead, he didn’t know what to do—because his lie was falling apart. I’m a federal agent, yet he didn’t think it was odd that a federal agent was prompting him with a ‘correct’ answer. It was subtle, in his eyes, the way his body shifted, relaxed. He was relieved. And I got to thinking about the Young kids—and their animosity to law enforcement even though their parents hold no such animosity. They aren’t old enough to get it from peers, and their parents seem very religious and law-and-order. Former military, rules the kids follow, more freedom to roam over structured play. The kids should have liked us, or at least been inquisitive. Where did they get that animosity? Specifically, why did Ginny ask such unusual questions? I think it was because Ricky had a run-in with a cop and he told her about it, passing his fear on to Ginny. And Pollero took instruction from a cop, so had no hesitation at letting me lead him. And you yourself didn’t want to share our theory about Ricky with the sheriff’s department because you thought they dropped the ball—or might have known something more about the case.”
“I don’t think I said that.”
“You didn’t have to, it was implied. Your instincts told you something was off, but you automatically assumed incompetence. Maybe it was incompetence, but now I’m leaning against it. We can’t trust them—but we can use that against them.”
“I was with you, but then you lost me.”
“We get Pollero to talk—and he will, if we stage it. Even if we have nothing to show him, a formal setting with the president of his bank, a white collar crime expert, and we can get him to tell us everything. But not there, not now. It’s his environment, and we might be able to fluster him, but he won’t tell the truth until we put him in a different setting.”
“I like it. Okay, let’s do it.”
“If I’m right, and a cop coached Pollero, he’ll tell us. It’s just a matter of the right approach.”
Chapter Nineteen
Max got off the phone with her producer and smiled at Sean, who was working on his laptop at her hotel desk.
“Sounded like Ben found something good,” Sean said without looking up.
“Harrison Monroe was suspected, never proven, of running an illegal gaming club at Texas A and M. The other name that came up?”
“Stanley Grant,” Sean guessed.
She shook her head. “Simon Mills.”
“Victoria’s brother? You think that her brother was involved in killing her?”
“I haven’t gone there yet, but the operation was quite well organized. One reason why Harrison got away with it is because he cultivated relationships—illegal relationships—with key staff and professors, getting them on tape either gambling or with college girls, girls that Harrison paid to flirt. No one could take him down without risking exposure.”
“Important people knew about his sideline.”
“He ran it for two years without incident. He trained his replacement, a kid by the name of Andy Tompkins, to take over for him but kept a cut as a ‘consulting fee.’ Andy was successful for a while, but when he blackmailed the wrong teacher he was expelled. It’s through Andy that Ben learned about Harrison. I’m actually fairly impressed with Ben that he tracked down this guy in less than twenty-four hours.”
“So am I,” Sean admitted.
“It’s who you know, and that’s what Harrison played on. He had a sixth sense, Andy said, about who to blackmail and who to stay away from. He was subtle and personable. He rarely had to use the blackmail card—it was unspoken that he knew information, and most staff who gambled didn’t want to get in trouble for it. He moved the games regularly, had a complex system for weeding out potential snitches, and he raked in tens of thousands of dollars a month.”
“Where did these kids get the money?”
“He targeted rich kids who had disposable income, though a few kids who had allowances lost a lot of money—apparently several had to leave school because they couldn’t afford to stay. Some kids gambled only what they could afford to lose.” Max eyed Sean. “You’re a gambler, aren’t you?”
“How could you know that?”
“I’m a good judge of character.” She assessed him. He wouldn’t play anything that he could lose. “You count cards,” she said. “Blackjack.”
“Counting cards is forbidden in casinos.”
But he was smiling. Of course he did it, because Sean was one of those guys who liked to game the system—and a system like gambling, which favored the house, Sean would want to beat.
“If I had engaged in such behavior, it was a long time ago.”
“Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To Harrison Monroe’s office. He’s in this morning. I’m going to talk to him.”
“Bad idea.”
“Good idea. I’ve been an investigative reporter for more than a decade. Sometimes being stealthy works. But I’ve found that the direct approach is usually the best approach.”
“If we’re right about Harrison Monroe, he has either killed or ordered to be killed six people and threatened others. He ordered an entire family to be executed, I don’t think he’ll have a problem killing a reporter.”
“But he can’t frame someone for my death or disappear my body.”
“Don’t count on that.”
Max was joking; Sean sounded too serious. “Trust me,” she said. “In this instance, going to him and just asking questions is going to help. I have a far greater chance of getting information because I’m going in as family, of sorts. If he’s keeping on top of this investigation, he knows that I came to San Antonio at the request of Victoria’s father because Stan recanted.”