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“Yes, Tom. Tom is aggressive. He’d annoy Alex from time to time. Alex thought he was very good, though, very sharp, so we stayed with him. Tom didn’t want Alex to invest in a housing charity. He said Alex would lose the investment, that the housing charity was mostly a sham built on PR.”
“The amount, though, doesn’t seem significant, for the size of your portfolio,” Virgil said. “A hundred thousand dollars...”
“Rich people don’t like to lose money,” Cooper said. She made arueful noise, almost a laugh, but not quite. “Theyreallydon’t like it. We’re richer than hell, and we both drive mid-level Mercedes for five years because Alex would go through agonies before spending money on what he called a sunk cost like an expensive car. He wasn’t really cheap, though. He looked on this housing company, this charity, as doing something worthwhile, that St. Paul needed. That was the upside. Tom was only looking at the potential loss, the downside. That’s what he’s paid to do.”
“Do you know Tom Burston personally?” Virgil asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“Is he tall and thin?” Virgil asked.
Long pause. Then, “Yes. He is. Maybe not exactly slender, but he’s in good shape. He’s built like you. Big tennis player—he and I team up in mixed doubles. We’re quite good.”
“Ah, but you, mmm, haven’t...”
“He’s gay,” Cooper said.
“Okay. How do you feel about the level of antagonism or anything else he might have felt toward Alex?” Lucas asked.
“Hello, Lucas,” Cooper said. “You know, like I said, Tom’s tall, but I can’t see any way... that he’d do something like murder. I can’t see that at all. He’s aggressive, he could get pushy with Alex over portfolio issues, but he didn’t do it.”
“Okay. What about this housing company or charity or whatever it is?”
“Home Streets. It’s barely a real company. It was formed by the board of a St. Paul charitable organization called Heart/Twin Cities, as a subsidiary charity. I mean, it’s not mafia, or organized crime, if that’s what you were thinking. Alex was a board member. I’ve been asked if I will join the board to replace him, and I’m thinking aboutit. Alex and the other board members were planning to chip in starter cash to attract federal and foundation funding for housing for street people. Home Streets is trying to buy a tract over on the east side of St. Paul, some old railroad property.”
“Then it really is a charity.”
“Pretty much,” she said. “What are you up to? Anything besides the financial stuff?”
“We took your suggestion and started looking at dependents of people Alex sent to prison. We’re on the way to interview one,” Virgil said. “I really can’t give you a name or anything, it’s confidential at this point.”
“Okay. Good hunting, then,” she said, unconsciously echoing Catherine Carter.
“Thanks. We’ll be talking to you, Ms. Cooper. Maggie.”
When she’d rung off, Virgil said to Lucas, “She didn’t like the Burston idea.”
“Not only that, she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. If a hundred thousand isn’t worth worrying about in a portfolio, it’s not worth killing for.”
—
They drove on.
Minnesota was going tan and gray, losing its grip on the summer green. The soybean harvest was done, the fields bare and hard. Much of the corn was in, although some was being harvested as they drove past. Dozens and maybe hundreds of cows ignored them over barbed-wire fences; staring blank-faced as they chewed their cuds.
Virgil: “Cows have friends.”
“Is that right?” Lucas’s interest had a depth of perhaps two inches.
Virgil: “They even have cliques.”
“Amazing what you learn as a trained investigator,” Lucas said.
Virgil: “They can communicate with each other both through vocalizations and their facial expressions.”
Lucas: “Shut up.”
—
