Page 87 of Backwater Justice

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Page 87 of Backwater Justice

“Mill, the night of your heart attack, what were you drinking?”

“Brandy, why?”

“Just curious. They still haven’t found out what caused it, have they?”

“No. Whatever it was got into my system, and out just in time, I suppose.”

Annie was trying to figure out the best way to ask who had poured his drink. “So, it was you and Oliver?”

“Patricia came in with Benjamin to say hello to Oliver,” he recalled. “That’s when she poured my brandy and Oliver’s tequila. She handed the glasses to Oliver, who handed mine to me. Benjamin had a glass of pinot noir, if I remember correctly. Why?”

Myra steadied herself. Her mind was racing, as was Annie’s. “Just curious. It’s such a mystery.”

“Yes, it is,” Milton replied.

Myra placed her hand on Milton’s. “Mill, what was the real reason you got in touch with me?”

He let out a long sigh. “Lots of unexplained things. I needed an objective point of view. Everyone around here knows everyone, and it would be hard for me to find someone who could get down to the nitty-gritty without raising concern.”

“I understand. So tell me. Start from the beginning.” Myra spoke softly, with compassion.

“For one, the electric bill for the Salem inn is almost double the others. I suppose there’s a reasonable explanation. The cost of concrete and steel for renovations was higher at Salem, Blaine, and Eugene, but there could be an explanation for that, as well. But then I noticed there were three steel doors that were ordered for those three inns. They were fireproof and bulletproof.”

“Why would you need bulletproof doors?” Annie’s forehead furrowed.

“That’s what I wanted to know. I was going to ask Oliver. Then I got a call about our certificates from the Department of Agriculture.”

“What about them?” Myra said, as Annie was jotting down notes.

“They occasionally send out inspectors to confirm the logging companies are complying with regulations by planting the required number of trees.”

“If I remember, you plant more than required.” Myra’s jaw was almost about to drop.

“I do. At least that’s what I thought was going on. Apparently, someone has been cutting corners.”

Myra and Annie looked at each other. “Don’t you get certificates?”

“Yes, and they suggested the certificates had been falsified before they were submitted.” Milton looked forlorn. “I suppose whoever doctored them figured the DOA wouldn’t scrutinize every piece of paper. It’s a bureaucracy.”

“Who is in charge of submitting them?” Annie asked, but she had a good idea what the answer was.

Milton sighed again. “Oliver.”

“Oh, dear. So that’s what you wanted to discuss with him?”

“Yes, all of it.”

“Milton, I don’t know what to say.” Myra shook her head.

“Myra, I think Oliver is in some kind of trouble.” He hung his head.

Annie didn’t know if she should say something at that point. She glanced at Myra. Myra gave her the secretnot nowlook.

“What kind of trouble?” Myra asked.

“I think he may be doing drugs.” Milton began to turn pale.

“What makes you say that?” Annie asked, although she shared the same suspicion.




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