with Gil Kaffey. He was a lot more coherent than the first time I saw him.”
“I hope you didn’t tire him out. Gil needs to conserve his energy to heal.” He checked his watch. “Try to keep your future interviews short.”
“Nurse Didi called you?”
“She did, and it was the right thing to do.”
“I’ll be more aware,” Decker told him. “Do you know who Guy Kaffey’s primary physician was?”
“For any medical information, you’ll have to consult with the family. I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
“I found out he was taking medication for bipolar disorder.”
“I wouldn’t know. Guy Kaffey wasn’t ever my patient so I can’t address that.” They both heard his name being paged. “I’ve got to go, but really, Lieutenant, what relevance does something like that have to solving a homicide?”
“It helps to know as much about the victim as you can find out.” Decker pressed the elevator down button. “They say dead men don’t talk, but if you listen carefully, they sure as hell do.”
The folder contained summaries of each member of the Kaffey clan. Wang said, “I felt an overview would help the both of us and maybe satisfy the brass until I can wade through all the hits. If I printed out all the articles, we’d totally deforest an entire South American country.”
“Can’t do that. Not green and not PC.” Decker looked at the first heading: Guy Allen Kaffey. Wang had included a brief bio on Guy, Gil, Grant, Gilliam, and Mace.
“These are the principal players in Kaffey Industries.” Wang handed him a separate folder. “Mace has a son named Sean who’s working at one of the big brokerage firms. I don’t know why he’s not in the family business—maybe he’s an independent kind of guy—but as the oddball, he attracted my attention.”
“Oddballs deserve a second look.” Decker nodded. “Thanks. This is a start. Send two copies to Strapp. What are you up to now?”
“Back to my Mac.” Wang stretched. “No matter how ergonomic the setup is, I still leave with a sore back from sitting incorrectly, burning wrists from all the typing, and tired eyes from peering at a computer screen. Man was not meant to work a desk job.”
“Tell me about it. Most of my last six years as lieutenant have been spent with my butt glued to a chair. But I’m not complaining.”
“Neither am I. It’s been a long time since I was in the line of fire. Sometimes I think I miss it, but I betcha I really don’t.”
Decker said, “When I actually get to do some genuine police work, it feels really good. Then I get shot or shot at and it cures me for a while.”
“Yeah, the last one was a close one. What happened to the nutcase guy?”
“He’s at Patton State.”
“He took out the guy behind you, right?”
“He did. He meant to get the guy behind me. The man was definitely mental, but lucky for me, his aim was true.”
Coffee cup in hand, Decker sat down at his desk and picked up Lee Wang’s summaries, making notes in the margins in his illegible scrawl.
Guy Allen Kaffey’s date of birth put him at sixty. He was born in St. Louis, Missouri, to immigrant parents who had long been deceased. A terrible student, Guy had dropped out of high school at sixteen with no marketable skills. But as he told Business Acumen Monthly, “I could keep up a steady patter better than anyone on the planet. That meant I could be a disc jockey or a salesman.”
He chose real estate. Flat broke, he began peddling houses shortly after leaving high school and within a year, he had amassed enough cash to start his own real estate firm. As he told the magazine, “My first employee was my sixteen-year-old brother, Mace. Like me, he was flunking high school, but when he dropped out, at least he had instant employment. Still, my parents couldn’t figure out where they went wrong. It was more like where they went right.”
Five years later, Guy Kaffey picked up from the Midwest and moved his operation to the Land of Opportunity, switching from residential to commercial real estate. At twenty-two, Guy had his first million in the bank. Three years later, he qualified as a multi-millionaire. Forbes listed Kaffey as a first-time billionaire when he reached the advanced age of thirty.
At thirty-one, he met his wife, Jill Sultie, at the craps table in Vegas after asking the beautiful woman next to him to blow on his dice. That evening, he had walked away with a hundred grand in profit and asked if the beautiful woman would like to celebrate by joining him for dinner. Sparks flew that night. The affair was intense and four months later, they were married.
“It was kismet,” Kaffey told e-zine CorporationsUSA.com. “She was recently divorced and I wandered in at exactly the right time.”
At Guy’s request, Jill changed her name to Gilliam so they could be G and G, or as Guy used to say when introduced, “We’re two grand.”
Two children followed: Gil seven months after the wedding and Grant two years later. The family was portrayed as cohesive, although Gil and Grant both had called Guy a “taskmaster.”
The financial road to billions hadn’t always been steady. There were dips and ditches and sometimes even trenches and foxholes. CEO Guy Kaffey nearly went out of business fifteen years ago due to a downturn in the real estate market, mismanagement, and embezzlement charges leveled at the president of the company and second in command, Mace Kaffey.
Decker sat up. As he underlined the sentence, he immediately thought of Milfred Connors, the accused account executive who was caught embezzling by Neptune Brady. Was there a connection between Connors and Mace Kaffey?
It appeared that the brothers were involved in litigation that lasted several years, and neither Mace nor Grant thought it important enough to mention. Maybe that was because things eventually resolved. Mace remained in the business, but no longer sat on the board of directors. He was given a new title of executive VP of East Coast Operations, that sector eventually operated by Guy’s younger son, Grant. The rest of the summary dealt with the Greenridge Project, some analysts implying that it was Mace’s last shot to redeem himself with the company.
If that was the case, Mace seemed to be on shaky grounds. From the start, Greenridge was plagued with problems. The location demanded several dozen environmental impact reports that resulted in many changes of plans. Eventually the project found a design that was approved, but the delays and the added costs coupled with the downturn in the economy and funding deficits had swelled the original budget by a factor of five. There was a quote from the Journal of News and Business about the Greenridge Project:
Isn’t it time that Guy Kaffey do what he should have done years ago? Pull the plug on his dead-weight brother, Mace? Filial loyalty is an admirable trait, but a company—even a privately owned company—cannot be run on sentiment.
If Mace went down with the Greenridge Project, what about Grant? Wasn’t he part of it as well? If there were problems, why would Mace be the goat and not Grant?
The last paragraph of the synopsis was “An Insider’s Look at Guy Kaffey” from PropertiesInc.com that was more about Guy the man than Guy the businessman. His friends spoke about Guy’s exuberance: his foes described him as a hothead. He was well known for his outbursts, and his moods could turn at a moment’s notice. Guy was described as bold and daring, but he was also detail oriented and meticulous.
Decker wondered how much of his outbursts had to do with his possible bipolar disorder. Did he sue his brother in a manic fit or was there just cause? Certainly it would seem that the charges were unjustified if Guy agreed to hire Mace back into the company.
Decker put Guy’s summary down and moved on to Mace. There wasn’t anything too illuminating in the summary. Mace was a high school dropout. He worked for his brother. He moved out