Page 78 of The Bone Code
“Heartwarming.”
I glared at Claudel.
“The ladies told us Rupert died on a Monday morning on his way to work.” Charbonneau, the peacemaker. “Normally, he’d return to the trailer park Sunday night, but it was Easter, so he stayed over.”
“What do they say happened?” Ryan asked.
“Same as the police report. The old man swerved off the road and hit a tree.”
“So Agnes will probably get the insurance money.” Ryan ran a hand down the good side of his face. Sighed. “But why the four-year delay in asking for it?”
Seeing that Ryan was fading, I tried to move the conversation along. “How is all this relevant to finding the jerk who blasted Ryan?”
“Breaking news.” Claudel waggled both hands in the air. “Rupert got the policy through work, and Agnes had no idea.”
“No shit?” Ryan perked up. “Who filed?”
“Sonny boy.”
“Zeke?”
“Ezekiel Hoag. Agnes’s pride and joy from a previous marriage.”
“Zeke found out about the coverage and filed the claim without telling his mother?” Ryan sounded incredulous.
“He did.”
“That was wishful thinking. Zeke wasn’t a named beneficiary and not a relative of Rupert. No way he could collect. Still, why wait four years?”
“I’ve only started looking into this shitbird. But when we ran Zeke’s name, a very hefty sheet came back. Listing, among other achievements, a nickel bump for vehicular homicide.”
“Holy crap,” I said.
“Holy crap,” Ryan said.
“At the Northwest State Correctional Facility,” Charbonneau added. “In Swanton, Vermont.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “The claim was filed after Zeke got out?”
Claudel and Charbonneau both nodded.
“Tabarnac!” Ryan was struggling to wrap his battered head around this development. Frankly, so was I.
“Was Zeke into white-collar crime?” I asked.
“No. But his cellmate in Swanton was a guy named Roger Carnegie. Carnegie was doing time for embezzlement and money laundering.”
Everyone took a moment to digest that. Ryan spoke first.
“You think Zeke saw me as an impediment to profiting from his stepfather’s death? He learned I was sniffing around and decided to take me out?”
“That’s our current thinking.”
“That plays,” Ryan said, nodding slowly.
“Like a hooker on a stroll,” Claudel agreed.
Lizzie Griesser called two days later. I thanked her for the DNA phenotypes and reproductions. Then, barely breathing, I listened to her latest report.
