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Unfolding his arms, Roger pushed off his desk and walked to the window, where he stood silently for a moment, hands on his hips, as he gazed out the window. “That was fifteen years ago. I was working at the brewery, pinching pennies to feed my family and watching Galen throw money around like he was growing it in the basement. I’m not ashamed to say it ate at me, because it also gave me the drive to make changes to my own financial situation.” Turning from the window, he added, “But I never became involved in the drug trade. Not then and not now.”
“But you know who was, or is,” Forrest suggested.
“Unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately, I don’t,” Roger said, walking back toward his desk. “I won’t lie, I looked down that road, especially after Rose died and Galen accused her of killing his son. But in truth, there wasn’t anything I could have done. Not back then. The country was at war—someone peddling drugs wasn’t a big deal. I was ready to put a bullet in him again when he threatened Norma Rose and when I heard what he’d done to you, but death would be too good for him. Instead I put my ear to every wall he was behind, and when Ginger became obsessed with Hollywood, I knew it was time to act.” With a menacing scowl, he growled, “When she came up missing, all sorts of awful things crossed my mind.”
The look the other two men shared told Forrest there was more, a lot more, behind Ginger’s running away. He had to ask... “Galen was already in jail then. He wasn’t behind it, was he?”
“No,” Roger said. “Thank goodness. There were a few years where Galen thought I’d forgotten all about him and his acquisitions, which irritated him, and he tried to goad me into a confrontation. I never let him.It served me better to let him think I was focused on my own business adventure, but I assure you I knew every step he took. The past few years, when he started parading young girls around town claiming they were the new stars of his Hollywood film company, I took advantage of the Achilles’ heel he left wide open. I figured those girls were his way of transporting the opium to the west coast, and though I had no desire to get involved in the drug trade, I did make it a point to drop seeds. By then, I had more than enough money, and after ousting the local authorities he’d paid off, I found a few willing to prove they were doing their jobs.”
“And?” Forrest asked.
“And,” Roger said, “there wasn’t any opium.”
Forrest couldn’t believe that. Not only had Galen boasted about his drug trade, but just last week his mother had also suggested it was part of the evidence being submitted.
“From what I’ve already discovered,” Ty said, “Galen’s tracks go way back, to ruthless thugs out of the slums of New York. They aren’t just gangsters. They’re worse than that. They’re outlaws. Thieves. Murders. Drug runners. Traffickers. They thrive on corruption, and don’t let anything or anyone get in their way. Galen’s been their patsy for a long time, including in their opium trade. He did little more than oversee its transportation off the ships to the Plantation, where it was picked up.”
“By whom?” Forrest asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Roger said. “Once Prohibition hit, there were so many federal agents assigned to the Port of Duluth, the opium shipments went elsewhere. That’s when Galen increased the one trade he had been involved in, that of young women. He used mostly foreign girls, claiming they were part of his Hollywood studio. Gloria Kasper can tell you all about it,” Roger said, once again taking a seat behind his desk.
Forrest remembered Gloria Kasper, the doctor who now resided at the resort. She had lived there ever since her house in town had mysteriously burned to the ground.
Roger opened a drawer near his side and reached down to pull something out. “I knew Galen couldn’t make the kind of money he tossed around town trafficking women, and I knew the authorities wouldn’t chase him down over it, either, but this—” He tossed a wad of bills on his desk. “This caught the attention of the law here and in California.”
Forrest was more confused than ever. “Money? What about it?”
“It’s counterfeit,” Roger said.
“Counterfeit?” He hadn’t heard a word about that. Stretching forward, Forrest lifted several bills for inspection. “California banknotes.”
“Which stopped being printed fifteen years ago. Every time Galen went to California, he’d return with money, and lots of it. It wasn’t until an acquaintance of his came looking for some whiskey that I discovered it was counterfeit. I knew the man was working for Galen, but I sold him the whiskey, and turned the money over to Sheriff Withers. Some of it,” Roger added. “I saved some in case further evidence was needed. It wasn’t long before a trail was discovered, or several trails, considering Galen would take a different route each time he came home from California. He was passing off these bills all across the states. Paying for a pack of gum with a twenty and getting real money in exchange.”
