“I’m in. Who do we talk to first?”
They managed to visit three more names on the list without a problem. The Browns, Jacobsons, and Connetts didn’t put up any roadblocks.
All three patriarchs seemed genuinely shocked to hear about the recent Duvall murders and expressed sadness over the loss of their friends, the Coatneys and Strands. Because yes, all of them knew each other.
They hit a speedbump at the Malk estate. Real estate mogul William Malk seemed genuinely shocked to hear about the recent demise of Jim Duvall’s siblings and mother.
Malk explained, “We’ve all been friends for years. It started when we’d meet at the Castle Club, back when we’d made something of ourselves, oh, a good fifteen years ago.” In a haughty tone, he added, “You’ve probably never heard of it. The Castle Club is exclusive, a member’s only organization for those with an interest in policy, an ability to make change, and a keen sense of moral responsibility for those who have so much less. It’s a place for movers and shakers to come together and try to do good.”
Jane read between the lines. The Castle Club catered to the extremely wealthy who needed purpose and wanted to play God.
“I just can’t believe the Duvalls are gone.”
They sat in his study, where she focused on the shakiness of his words, the trembling of his hands. If he was acting, Will Malk was doing a heck of a job. The man seemed genuinely shocked. Apparently, he’d been friends not only with Jim Duvall, but with David as well.
Jane asked him, “When you say try to do good, what do you mean?”
He sat behind his desk, sipping from a decanted substance that looked and smelled like whiskey. Probably some bottled spirits worth more than her monthly income.
“We pulled together for charities and city planning to help the homeless and less fortunate. Not everyone is born with a silver spoon, Agent Cannon. Though my family has been blessed more than most, we acknowledge the disparity between our grand wealth and the majority of Seattle’s citizens. Just because I didn’t come from modestbeginnings doesn’t mean I don’t want to make the world a better place.”
Ray muttered, “How about paying your fair share in taxes, then?”
Jane ignored him. “What did you think when three of your friends died within the span of a month and a half? Are you worried you might be next?”
Malk gaped at her. “Me? Why should I be worried? I haven’t done anything.”
Jane leaned forward. “And they have?”
“What? No. I don’t mean that.” He paused to guzzle more alcohol. “I just meant I’m not involved in anything that high stakes. We don’t do government contracts or work with NDAs. My wealth is more, well, common, I’d have to say. And because of it, Malk Holdings doesn’t face the challenges my poor friends dealt with.”
Jane didn’t believe him. “Really? Because you’re known for a vast real estate portfolio. I can name a dozen people who would love to be in your position right now. And I’m not even in the property business.”
“Well, yes. I suppose that’s true.” Malk flushed. “I just meant it’s a normal industry. Real estate people are cutthroat, but they don’t kill for listings.”
Jane wasn’t sure what glass tower he was living in, but he seemed to believe what he said.
Malk continued, “We compete for the thrill of the sale. I’ve amassed a fortune, yes. But I’m surrounded by friends andfriendlyrivals because I’m constantly giving back and helping others reach their potential. I can’t think of anyone who’d want to kill me or my family.”
“Who do you think wanted to kill Jim Duvall and his family?” Ray asked.
A good question.
Malk pondered it. “Any number of his competitors wanting his government contracts. Do you have any idea how lucrative his deals with the DoD are? Were?”
Jane added, “And the Coatneys? The Strands?”
“I assumed they were killed due to their consortiums with overseas investors. Like I said, I have nothing to do with anything so elaborate. My family’s wealth comes from our assets in the States, our many hotels and rental ventures around the Pacific Northwest. Especially now, when real estate is at an all-time peak.”
Jane studied him and sensed an underlying tension beneath his words. Will Malk was trying very hard to appear saddened by his friends’ loss but not concerned about his own well-being.
“What can you tell me about the Collective?”
He bobbled his drink on the way to his mouth, spilling a drop onto his tie. “I’m sorry. What?”
Ray and Jane shared a look before Ray added, “It’s a group of rich people who are being targeted by a killer who doesn’t just stop at the CEO. He kills their entire family.”
Malk started to sweat. Before he could say anything more, his wife entered the room. Jennifer Malk stalked forward and stood behind her husband, one manicured hand clutching his shoulder, like the talon of some great bird of prey.
