More Twisted

there . . . . That’s why Ron was so unpopular. He insists that we control the distribution of the food and medicine over there. We cut deals with the best local organizations who’d get the job done. Sometimes those groups, like Liberian Relief, are allied with the opposition political parties. So, right there, that means he’s a threat to the government in power.
    “Then there’re other regions where the government’s legit and he distributes through them. Which makes him a threat to the opposition party. Then there’re the warlords. And the fundamentalist Islamic groups who don’t want any Western aid at all. And the armies and militias who want people famished because they use hunger as a tool . . . Oh, it’s a nightmare.”
    Kelsey gave a bitter laugh. “Then anti-U.S. countries around the world: the Arab bloc, Iran and Pakistan, Indonesia and Malaysia in the Far East . . . . The foundation’s private, of course, but over there they see us as an arm of Washington. And, in a way, we are. Oh, and that’s just overseas. Now, let’s talk about America.”
    “Here?” Sachs asked. “He had enemies here?”
    “Oh, yeah. You think the business of charity is filledwith saints? Guess again. My background was corporate accounting, and I’ll tell you that the most ruthless corporate raiders are nothing compared to the CEO’s of a charity. Ron bought the food from a half-dozen suppliers here and in Europe. I can’t tell you how many tons of rotten rice and corn they tried to sell us. Ron reported a half-dozen of them to the FDA.
    “Then some executives seem to think charity begins at home. One organization wanted to work with us and Ron found out that the head was getting a salary of five hundred thousand a year and flew around the country in a private jet that was paid for by the endowment.
    “Ron dropped them cold, called up the Times and gave them the story. The CEO was fired the next day.”
    Kelsey realized he was getting worked up. “Sorry. It’s hard to do good nowadays. And, now, with him gone? It’s going to be that much harder.”
    “What about Larkin’s personal life?”
    “His first wife died ten years ago,” Kelsey said. “He has a grown son who’s involved in energy joint ventures in China. They had a very good relationship. He’ll be devastated by this.”
    “What about his new wife?”
    “Oh, Kitty? She was good for him, and she loved him too. See, she’s got money of her own—her father had a textile business or something. Ron’d meet a lot of women who were just after one thing, you can imagine. It was hard for him. But she was genuine.”
    “His brother?” Sellitto asked.
    “Peter? What about . . . ? Oh, you mean, could he have been involved in his death?” A laugh. “No, no, impossible.They were very close. He’s successful too. Has his own company. Not as rich as Ron, but I’m talking thirty billion instead of a hundred. He didn’t need any money. Besides, they had the same values, worked hard for the foundation. It was Ron’s full-time job, but Peter still put in twenty, thirty hours a week, on top of his full schedule as CEO of his own company.”
    Sellitto then asked for a specific list of people who might have a grudge against Ron Larkin—from all of the categories Kelsey had mentioned. He wrote for some time.
    Kelsey handed Sellitto the sheet and said he’d try to think of anyone else. The man, looking dazed, said good-bye and left.
    Mel Cooper came out of the lab flexing his hands.
    “How’s the mission?” Rhyme asked.
    “Do you know how many knots there were?”
    “Twenty-four,” Rhyme said. “And I noted the tense of the verb. You’re finished.”
    “I think I have carpal tunnel. But we were successful.”
    “You find his business card?”
    “Maybe something just as good. A husk. A very small husk.”
    “Of what?”
    “Rice.”
    Rhyme nodded, pursing his lips. And Sachs said exactly what he was thinking: “Shipments of food that the foundation sent to Africa? So the shooter might’ve been recruited there.”
    “Or by somebody who owns a farm. Or sells rice. The one who sold the rotten shipments maybe.”
    “And the marine diesel oil,” Mel Cooper said, nodding at the chart. “Cargo ships.”
    Sachs added the entry to their chart.
    “Let’s look over the list that Kelsey made for us.”
    Sachs taped the page on a whiteboard.
    “The usual suspects?” Rhyme snorted a cold laugh. “Typical homicides have, what?