Page 136 of Concrete Evidence
“Odd, security cams show you had lunch with him the day of his death. He ordered a Dr Pepper. Is that where you dropped the cyanide?”
Shipley jerked. “Are you out of your mind? Yes, I had lunch with Abbott, but it was to discuss a personal matter. Not poison my friend.”
Marc probed the man’s features. “Did the conversation have anything to do with your diagnosis of Huntington’s disease?”
“The senator must have told you about the medical problems.”
“He’s concerned about you. Another interesting point is the security cams at the grocery show you broke into my dad’s car. Is that when you stole his gun and phone?”
Shipley bolted to his feet and whipped out a pistol from inside his jacket. He aimed at Marc. “I can’t get both of you, but I can eliminate one.”
“Did Dad have incriminating evidence on his phone?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it?”
“Did he accuse you of altering the dam inspection video?”
Shipley glared.
Marc inched forward. “Or is that what you were looking for when you broke into the senator’s office?”
“Changing my copy of the specs from Craig proved easy. But you’re right—I need the video, and I’ll get it before the day is over.” He extended his arm with the pistol. “Stop where you are.”
“Are you sure this is how you want things to go down?” Marc obliged and kept his tone calm. “We can talk and figure out a solution.”
Shipley waved his gun at Marc. “Move to your buddy. I’ve been through many negotiations, and you’re wasting words on me.”
When Marc didn’t move, Shipley aimed at his face. “Now.”
Marc moved to stand beside Roden.
“Using your left hands, place your guns on the floor, and kick them my way. Wilkins, I despise you as much as I did your father.”
Both obliged. Marc calculated how fast he could slam his body into Shipley, but risking Roden’s life wasn’t in the equation.
Roden spoke. “Bruce Ingles on your payroll since he put together a fake video log?”
“Does it matter since he’s dead?”
“Why the murders and sabotage the dam?”
He swore. “They set me up to lose my life’s savings in a bogus investment, like I was a joke.”
“They ridiculed you,” Roden said. “I understand prejudice.”
“Yeah, bet you do. Comes a time when a man must take charge of his own self-respect. I tried to get them to pay up, but they were ignorant of what I could do. The idiots actually came to me for help.”
Roden congratulated him. “We know how you manipulated Craig, changed the dam specs, paid off Bruce Ingles, and hired Jake for the murders. Brilliant. I assume you sold the unused materials pulled from the warehouse?”
Shipley snickered. “Made a few dollars to pay Jake. Made quite a bit from Liam’s BMW too. Sold Craig’s truck too. Ingles was collateral damage—got too greedy. Having a crew member call the Army Corps with a guilt-ridden conscience hit the bonus button. Enough said.” He pointed at Roden. “Get into the closet behind you, and Marc will lock it.”
“Why Roden?” Marc said.
“You and I have plans. Now.”
Marc made eye contact with Roden, hoping his friend could predict Shipley’s actions. Marc locked the closet door and faced Shipley. “Now what?”
“Step away.”
