funds as necessary while slowly draining others without them noticing.”
That definitely sounded like something the little weasel would do. “Are you saying Obermachers are in on it?”
“We don’t know,” Mad Dog answered, his brows pulling together. “There’s no question that the Obermachers are financing the bulk of Renninger’s illegal activities, but whether or not they’re aware of it remains to be seen.”
“Tina isn’t,” Doc said firmly. That he knew.
He expected some pushback from all but Mad Dog, who had staunchly professed Kate’s innocence when her family’s store was in a similar situation a year earlier, but surprisingly, he received none.
“Down, boy. We don’t think she does either,” Heff said in a rare, serious moment. “For one thing, she was smart enough to incorporate herself. The Mill is her baby, not part of the family business. For another, she doesn’t have Renninger doing her books.”
“She still owns twenty-five percent of Obermacher Farms, but based on what Cage has been able to uncover, her older brother Gunther handles the majority of the business shit.” That from Smoke.
“I thought Friedrich was the oldest.”
Church snorted. “He is, but Rick Obermacher isn’t smart enough to run the business. Gunther is, and unlike Rick, Gunther has the cunning to make things happen. He’s also tight with Renninger.”
“Based on his credit card activity—all of which are maxed out, by the way—Gunther has been wining and dining some bigshots lately, including Phillip Dumas,” Cage said.
“Who is Phillip Dumas, and why do we care?” Doc asked.
“Phillip Dumas is the current CEO of Dumas Industries, located just outside of Pine Ridge. They’re a multibillion-dollar company with both domestic and foreign interests.”
“Why would the CEO of a multibillion-dollar company be wining and dining a local farmer?” asked Smoke.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” commented Heff.
“Do you think they’re part of Renninger’s illegal arms deals?” Mad Dog asked. “If they’ve got a global presence, they’d have the connections and the means to move contraband.”
Church considered that for a moment and then shook his head. “No. That’s not their style. The Dumases are known for being ruthless in the corporate world, but they’re not terrorists.”
“All right. So what’s the angle?”
“Ian thinks Dumas might be trying to get his hands on Obermachers’ land. They tried the same thing years ago with Maggie Callaghan’s farm. Word got out that Maggie was talking with Aidan Harrison about contracting with the Celtic Goddess to provide fresh, organic produce for their restaurant. It was a novel concept for the area then—a corporate enterprise sourcing from a small-scale local farm—but there was a lot of potential there, and Dumas wanted a piece of the action. Plus, I think Dumas was feeling territorial. He was the only billionaire on the block until Harrison decided to move to Pine Ridge. Ian said Dumas considered it a done deal after paying off the local politicians, thinking he’d send Maggie into bankruptcy and pick up the land for a song. Clearly, it didn’t quite pan out that way.”
“I bet that’s a story,” Heff mused.
Doc’s brows pulled together. “So ... Dumas missed the boat on Maggie’s land. He gets wind that Obermachers might be in financial trouble and sees it as another opportunity to get into the organic food business?”
Cage shook his head. “Not exactly. He just wants the land. It’s prime property. The Dumas Industries real estate division could make a killing on the topsoil alone.”
Mad Dog nodded. “It happens. They strip the land of the fertile topsoil to sell at top dollar and then sell off parcels to developers looking to build high-end homes. Around here, they’d probably start at a cool half-mil, and that’s just for a base model.”
“In Sumneyville?” Smoke asked doubtfully.
“Read the news, man,” Cage said. “The real estate market is booming right now. People who can afford it are leaving cities in droves in search of fresh air, clean water, and low crime rates.”
“And million-dollar mansions?” Heff added with a smirk.
“Exactly.” Cage nodded. “Bree said our modest cabin would probably cost around two million in SoCal. Imagine what that kind of money could buy around here.”
Doc shook his head. “Obermachers won’t sell. Tina told me their land has been in their family for over four centuries. It’s a pride thing.”
“Unfortunately, pride isn’t going to pull them out of the deep financial hole Renninger’s dug for them,” Mad Dog said soberly. “Selling out might be their only option.”