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“You mean, pursuing an avenue that involves taking Amanda’s money—or your money—in the process.” Casey spoke Fenton’s thought aloud, and continued without waiting for confirmation. “No, Mr. Fenton, we’re not just humoring your niece. Forensic Instincts is known for our direct approach to our cases and our clients. If we didn’t believe Paul Everett was alive, we’d be laying out that fact for Amanda. And we’d be encouraging her to discontinue our services. Rest assured, our company is on solid financial footing. We don’t need to squeeze money out of our clients. Nor would we. Our company’s growth relies on our reputation. I’m sure you can relate to that.”
“Of course.” Lyle Fenton was definitely off balance. Whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been this. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m just surprised that you sound so certain about Paul. Do you have proof he’s alive?”
“Nothing concrete,” Marc replied. “But our leads are strong enough to convince us to pursue this aggressively. That’s really all we can say. Client confidentiality. I’m sure you can understand. I’m equally sure that Amanda will answer any questions you have directly.” He leaned forward, gripped his knees. “Paul Everett?” he prompted.
“Yes… Paul.” Fenton relaxed as he mentally recalled whatever speech he’d prepared. “I didn’t know him well. He had a great reputation in his field when he moved into the area. And his idea about converting the marina into a luxury hotel was intriguing. It had the potential to bring in big money, jobs…”
“And tourists,” Casey finished for him.
“Exactly. Which is why I was so ambivalent about signing on with his project. My dredging business would have profited greatly. But I’m not just a businessman, Ms. Woods. I’m also a local, and a member of the Southampton Board of Trustees. I had an obligation to do what was best for my community.”
“Which explains why you never committed to Paul.”
“Not only why I never committed my company resources. Also why I never threw my full support behind him. I had a lot of due diligence facing me. Permits had to be obtained—environmental, engineering, building—and I had no idea if the town would cooperate. It was my job to figure out what my town wanted before I moved forward.”
A regular Boy Scout, Casey thought in disgust.
“We know that your niece was in a committed relationship with Everett,” she said. “Did that ever sway you in the direction of helping him out?”
“No.” Fenton’s answer was quick and adamant. “I never mix business and personal matters. I couldn’t have built the kind of empire I have if I did.”
“Did Everett pressure you?” Marc asked.
A shrug. “He was a businessman. He saw the opportunity to make a killing. Did he keep after me to sign on? Sure. Did he harass me? No. I’m not sure what else you want to know.”
“We want to know if Paul Everett was as upstanding as Amanda thought he was,” Casey supplied. “Did he ever threaten you? Do you have reason to suspect he used illegal means to get what he wanted—blackmail, bribery, hooking up with the wrong crowd?”
“Right,” Marc added. “The kind of crowd who could make things happen—for a price.”
Fenton’s brows rose slightly. “Are you talking about organized crime?”
“I don’t know. Are we?”
Marc’s tone seemed to throw Fenton a bit. Or was it his subtle implication that Fenton could have that kind of knowledge?
“If Everett was working with the mob, I certainly didn’t know about it,” he denied quickly, keeping his tone even. But his gaze was still darting around, never settling directly on them. “I suppose it’s possible. No one dies—or is attacked and disappears—under violent circumstances without a reason. But, as I said, he and I weren’t friends. I have no clue who he associated with or where his cash sources came from.”
“What kind of a man would you say Everett was—personally?” Casey opted to veer in a slightly different, less confrontational, direction.
Fenton pursed his lips as if contemplating the question. “He was a personable enough guy. Our dealings were fine. But I know he had a temper. I heard him on the phone several times reaming out contractors. Then again, that’s not unusual for a real-estate developer. Paul was a perfectionist. His contractors weren’t. That causes friction.”
“So you’d say he was volatile?”
“I suppose so, yes.”
Convenient, Casey thought. Interesting that that was not a trait Amanda had even slightly alluded to in her description of Paul.
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Curious about where Fenton wanted this to go, Casey played out the point. “Would you say Paul’s temper was enough to win him enemies?”
Another shrug. “Probably. Then again, most of the people in my business have tempers and enemies. That doesn’t mean they resort to violence. Or illegal dealings.”
But you’d love for us to think it did with Paul. And to distance yourself from him as much as possible. Well, aren’t you the ultimate Good Samaritan?
Time to catch Fenton off guard.
“What about John Morano?” Casey asked.
