Father Knows Death Part 16

"Yep. That's how it works."

"Does she get a share of the profits?"

"Nope. When you lease, you lease up front and give up your rights to anything we find on the property," Corey said. "That number that caught you off-guard? I wasn't kidding. It really is more than fair. But whatever we are able to take from beneath your property is ours after you lease the rights to us."

"Is the land usable during the process?"

"Depends," he said. "Here? Sure, your backyard would be okay. We'd use a small crew and it would be pretty un.o.btrusive. There would be days when it wouldn't be, but most of the time, it would be okay."

"Yeah, except for all the c.r.a.p you'd drop into the water supply," Victor said, raising an eyebrow.

Corey rolled his eyes. "Our process is safe and environmentally sound."

"So was Chern.o.byl."

"That makes no sense."

Victor waved a small hand at him. "Whatever, Slick."

Corey turned his attention back to me. "So, here, it would be a minor inconvenience. But there? Our process will be pretty extensive due to the excessive amount of shale beneath the surface. It won't be usable until we're done with it."

"So the fair couldn't be held there next April?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No way. Nothing will be able to be held there. It'll be in full swing at that point. But she said she had a lead on another location." He shrugged. "Sounds like she's got it all figured out."

It sure did.

32.

Victor waved a BBQ-slathered rib in the air. "This town is insane."

Julianne and Carly had already finished their food and were inside, getting Carly ready for their girls' night at the fair. Victor and I were polis.h.i.+ng off the remainder of the ribs, has.h.i.+ng over our meeting with Corey Stewart.

"Tell me something I don't know," I said, finis.h.i.+ng my last rib and the rest of my beer. "I've lived here my entire life."

"I mean, you guys are really nuts," he said, shaking his round head. "It's like Fantasyland crossed with Oz here."

I nodded. He wasn't entirely wrong. Rose Petal wouldn't have been Rose Petal without some sort of insane drama playing out.

"So here's my question," Victor said, wiping his hands on a napkin. "What exactly did George Spellman know?"

I thought for a moment. "The only thing we know for sure is that he ran into Stewart on the fairgrounds that morning. That's the only certainty we have and, even with that, we have two different accounts."

"I believe the sales guy," Victor said, grabbing his beer. "Yeah, he's kind of a dipstick, but I think his story makes sense."

"Why?"

"If Spellman got punched, like the other broad said, wouldn't other people have noticed? Wouldn't there have been a black eye or something like that?"

That made sense. "I suppose."

"So I think this dude went to the fairgrounds to do his measuring or whatever it is he does, and Spellman surprised him. Spellman got all indignant about his being there, got a little handsy, and got knocked down," Victor said, drinking the beer, then setting the bottle down. "And I don't think Stewart told him squat about the land deal."

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't seem the type," Victor answered. "That guy cares about one thing. Commission. No way he would've fouled up a big old deal like that by giving away details that he was supposed to keep to himself."

"But he just gave them away to us."

"Because we threatened him," Victor said with a smile. "And because we are scary and intimidating."

"Right."

"But Spellman could've easily made the jump," Victor continued. "A guy from that company, surveying the grounds. He could've put two and two together to figure out that something was cooking."

I pushed my plate away. "So maybe that's what he was talking about when he told that group that he knew something."

"Those tree-huggers? C.A.K.E.?"

"Yeah. He told them something was happening, that he needed to find out more. So maybe he has the fight with Stewart and realizes what's going on."

"And then he tells his girlfriend he went to the old bag, she tells him not to worry about it, he says he's going to go to the board meeting and make it public and-boom," Victor said, raising an eyebrow. "He's dead."

I nodded. It all fit together and definitely seemed connected. Somebody didn't want George letting people know about what was going down in Rose Petal. And it all sort of pointed squarely at one person.

33.

"Find any more dead bodies?" Tom asked as he dealt the first hand.

After the ribs, Victor and I made plans to meet the following day at the fair. The girls headed off to their evening of fun and, as it was the last Friday of the month, that meant I was off to my monthly dorky dads poker night. Yes, it was fair week and everyone was busy, but some things were too important to mess with. The fact that each of us had quickly responded to Tom's e-mail, saying we were available, told me that everyone needed a night away from the fair and their families as much as I did.

"Not yet," I said, fanning through the cards he dealt me and frowning. "But I might kill you if these are the kind of cards I'm gonna see all night."

He chuckled.

"Do we have a plan in place in case your wife decides to have the baby tonight?" Paul asked from across the table, his eyes on his cards.

"A plan?" I asked. "Yeah. I'll tear out of here and get her to the hospital."

Jeff rubbed his chin. "Hmm. We'll just hold onto your money, then, until you get back."

"Or, we could play for you," Brandon suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"I like that," Mark said. "That works. A chance for you to earn while you're gone."

"We'll use your winnings to buy the baby a gift," Raphael suggested as he tossed several chips into the middle of the table.

"Somehow, I think I might lose," I said. "So. No. My money goes with me."

"Chicken," Tom said.

"Cluck, cluck," I said. "Bet."

There was comfort in knowing that once a month, no matter what was going on in my life, I could jump out of the day and sit down with friends for cards, beer, c.r.a.ppy food, and friendly hara.s.sment. It was like I'd never left college and we'd never grown up.

"I heard your dad talking about an offer he got from the drilling business," Paul said, tossing several of his chips into the pile.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"He gonna take it?"

"I don't think so."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "No?"

I shook my head.

"I heard the money's good," he said.

"It is," I said. "But I don't think he wants them digging."

"Couldn't pay me enough," Brandon said, shaking his head and tossing his cards on the table. "It isn't safe."

Mark tossed his chips in. "Money is always safe."

"Not the money. The fracking."

Jeff made a face. "Oh, please. You're a hippy tree-hugger. It's perfectly safe."

"Tell me that after you have a three-headed baby," Brandon said, folding his arms across his chest.

"He's already been neutered," Tom said. "No chance of any-headed babies."

"I heard the remnants go right into the water tables," Raphael said, laying his cards down and folding. "Chemicals. Dirty water. Rock fragments."

Paul scowled. "Please. The process has been around forever and it's only gotten safer. It's safer than drilling for oil."

"How do you know?" Tom asked.

Paul's cheeks colored slightly.

I started laughing. "How much are they paying you?"

A number of catcalls and howls went up at the table.

"So, maybe I'm a little defensive," Paul said, chuckling. "But they are making it worth my while. That's all I'm gonna say."

Mark started laughing. "Me, too."

"You, too?" I asked.

He nodded. "I hate yard work anyway and with them digging in the backyard, I won't have to do squat for a while."

That discussion was a perfect representation of our group. We all had different political views. All had different views on education. On money. But none of us took any of it seriously enough to take offense. We could all disagree on different things.

As long as we were allowed to mock those we didn't agree with.

"So what exactly do they do?" Raphael asked. "Is it like in that movie with Bruce Willis where they take a ma.s.sive drill to the moon?"

"Hardly," Paul said. "The way I understand it is they bring in some sort of drill and go down into the shale with some pressurized fluid. After it's located, they fire some water down into the shale to break it up, forcing the gas out, and they capture the gas and-boom! Gas prices go down."

"Yeah. Just like that," Brandon said, shaking his head.

"You know what I'm saying," Paul said. "They capture the gas and then do whatever it is they do with it. I'm not smart enough to understand that part."

"That part is fine," Brandon said. "It's what they do during and after. The gas can leak. The water tables can become contaminated. There's all sorts of bad c.r.a.p that can happen."

Mark held up a finger. "Might happen. Not will happen."

"But they can't promise it won't," Brandon argued. "And the problem is, you don't know until well after the fact if it's happened. When the three-headed babies start popping up."

"But I'll be dead by then," Paul said, shrugging. "And I'll just tell my kids to go live somewhere else."

We all laughed at that, but I thought the discussion demonstrated the varied opinions on the subject and probably represented what was going on all over town. People were having to weigh the risks versus cas.h.i.+ng a fat check. Given Julianne's staunch stance against it, there wasn't going to be a decision for me to make. But others were probably going to have to give some pretty good thought as to which way they wanted to go.

An hour later, I was down twenty bucks and two beers in.

"I wanna hear more about the dead body," Jeff said, munching on a jalapeno stuffed with cheddar. "What the h.e.l.l exactly happened to that Spellman guy?"

"Wish I knew," I said. "But I really don't."

"I heard he and that Biggs woman were sleeping together," Mark said.

"Mama?" Paul asked, appalled at the idea.

"No, no," Mark said. "That daughter." He looked at me. "That right?"