Flinch Factor, The (12 page)

Chapter Twenty-one

We stared at the Colonial house at No. 5 Berkeley Drive in the Town of Edgewood. The only indication of any planned construction was the red and white building permit taped to one of the pillars on the front porch. From our parking spot at the curb we were too far away to read the permit that, according to the permit information Jacki had obtained from the Edgewood City Hall, authorized construction of a new deck and family room at the back of the house. According to the permit, the house was owned by Brett and Lucinda Annis.

“Maybe they'll start next month,” Jacki said.

I sighed in frustration, thinking of Nick's sister Susannah. “I guess.”

“Let's see if anything's going on in Glenview Heights. It's not too far.”

I checked my watch. “Sure.”

Jacki had found two permits issued to Corundum Construction by the City of Glenview Heights, both about two years ago—the first for the build-out of a basement that included a movie theater, rec room, wet bar, exercise room, sauna, and bathroom, the second for construction of a backyard pool and deck.

Although no one was home at either house, we quickly confirmed that we were too late to see anyone from Corundum. At the first house, the listing information sheets in the plastic box attached to the For Sale sign on the front lawn featured “a new basement” with all of the amenities listed on the building permit. At the second house, we confirmed from the sidewalk that the backyard pool and deck were already in place.

There was a campaign sign on the front lawn of the second house, which, according to the building permit, was owned by Clyde and Elizabeth Bennett. The sign read RE-ELECT COUNCILMAN CLYDE BENNET, 3rd WARD.

“These guys must have political connections,” I mused.

“What guys?”

“Corundum.”

“Why do you say that?”

“This isn't the only city official's house they've done work on.”

“Who else?”

“An alderman in Asbury Groves. Guy named Carswold.”

“That could be good. Maybe it'll give you some leverage.”

“How so?”

“They're public officials, Rachel. Think what that means. If you actually spot that big guy at some other Corundum construction site, you're still going need to find a way to get the cops involved, right? If one of these public officials finds out that he has someone working on his house who might be implicated in a death, he should be happy to get the police involved.”

“Maybe.”

“Hey, it's something.”

I shrugged. “I hope you're right.”

Chapter Twenty-two

“Rachel?”

I was staring into the dark when my stepdaughter called my name. It took a moment for her voice to register.

I turned. She was standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light in the hallway, her school backpack slung over her shoulder.

“Hi, sweetie,” I said. “How was rehearsal?”

“Okay.” She stepped into the den. “Why don't you have a light on?”

“I wandered in here after I took Yadi for his walk. I guess I forgot to turn it on.”

“Forgot?”

She shrugged the backpack off her shoulder and let it drop onto the carpet. She came over to the sofa and sat on the arm.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

I've just been thinking about one of my lawsuits.”

“That Brittany Woods case?”

“That's the one.”

“What now?”

“I had a settlement meeting here with the clients tonight.”

“How did that go?”

“They aren't willing to compromise. They see it as a matter of principle.”

“That's a good thing, right?”

“Not always. They might lose their homes.”

“You won't let that happen.”

“There's only so much I can do. The law is tough.”

She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “So are you.”

I slipped my arm around her waist. “You're a sweetie, Sarah.”

“Was Muriel here tonight?” Sarah asked.

“She was.”

Sarah knew Muriel through my mother's Mahjong games, which had been taking place in my dining room on the first Wednesday of the month since Sarah was little.

I said, “She told me to tell you that she already had her ticket to the musical. She's coming to opening night with your bobba.”

Sarah was playing the role of the Good Witch in her high school production of
The Wizard of Oz.

I added, “I'll make sure they don't bring an air horn to the show.”

She laughed. “Good.”

After a moment, she asked, “So no settlement?”

“Probably not. They just don't want to move.”

“What's Uncle Benny say?”

“That we're all crazy. He thinks we should take the money and run.”

“Do you think he's right?”

“I hope not.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, and then I hugged her against me.

“I love you,” I said.

She put her arm around my shoulder. “I love you, too.”

She kissed me on top of my head. “Good night, Rachel.”

“Good night, Sweetie. I'll be up in a few minutes.”

After she left, I sat in the dark.

Sometimes I wonder if my own mourning period will ever end, if I will always be the grieving widow. There are moments when my longing for Jonathan is so intense that it seems unbearable. But most of my sadness and compassion are focused on my son and two stepdaughters. It pains me to know that they will grow up without their father, that they will graduate and get married and have children and gather together on special family occasions—and always without their father. The ache I feel for my two stepdaughters is even more crushing, since they will graduate and get married and have children and gather on special occasions—and always without their father
and
without their mother.

I vowed to Jonathan when we got engaged—and then I vowed to him again on the morning of his funeral—that I would nurture and protect those two girls as if they were my own. I've kept my vow, but that doesn't help ease the sadness.

Chapter Twenty-three

Benny pulled over to the curb and grinned.

“Well, well, well,” he said.

He shifted into Park and turned toward me.

I nodded. “Bingo.”

Up ahead on the right was 1825 Brandywine Drive—a modern Cape Cod style home with white siding, green shutters, and a red shingle roof with two dormers. The home of Barry and Susan Haven. According to the building permit that Jacki had located at the Brookfield City Hall, Corundum Construction Company was building an elaborate two-level cedar deck in the backyard that would include, among other things, a hot tub, several foliage cutouts, a wet bar, and a screened-in dining gazebo. According to the vehicles in front of the house and in the driveway, construction was underway.

There were two pickup trucks in the driveway—a late-model Toyota and a newer white Ford. Of more interest, though, was the enormous Dodge Ram 2500 parked along the street. It was dark blue and had a flatbed trailer hitched to the back.

Benny turned off the engine and pointed toward the Dodge.

“Is that it?”

“I'm checking.”

I flipped through the file and found my notes on the pickup that my Gay Way witness had described. I checked the license plate number in my notes and then stared through the windshield at the Dodge pickup.

“I can't make it out. The trailer is in the way.”

“So let's have a closer look. We're getting out anyway, right?”

“I guess so.”

Benny opened his door and gave me a wink. “Showtime, Mrs. Charles.”

It was mid-morning the day after our lunch at El Bravo's. Jacki and I had left from there to check out the houses with Corundum building permits in Edgewood and Glenview Heights. We'd gone back to the office after the Glenview Heights house because the remaining two permits Jacki had located were in Brookfield, a northern suburb and thus on the far opposite side of the city.

Both of the Brookfield permits had been issued about a year ago. When Benny found out I was planning to visit the sites this morning, he insisted on coming along.

Work on the first house in Brookfield—a two-story addition consisting of a family room below and an extra bedroom above—had not started. According to the permit, the owners were Jack and Mary Prince. Work on 1825 Brandywine had not only started but was still in progress. Better yet—at least according to Jacki's theory—the house was owned by a Brookfield city official: the names on the green mailbox near the foot of the driveway read
Alderman and Mrs. Haven
.

We walked toward the house, pausing along the sidewalk near the back of the Dodge pickup.

“Well?” Benny asked.

I shook my head. “Different license plate.”

“Maybe we'll find him back there anyway.”

But we didn't.

There were five workmen in the backyard of the Haven's house—two short Hispanic men working on the gazebo, a black man of medium build working a backhoe, and two slender white guys, one in his twenties, the other in his forties.

The older white guy came over to us. He was about six feet tall with a sun-wrinkled face and squinty eyes. He wore a battered St. Louis Rams cap with a frayed brim, a blue short-sleeve work shirt over a white t-shirt, faded jeans and construction boots.

“Can I help you folks?”

He spoke with a rural drawl, out where they pronounce the last syllable of Missouri as “uh” instead of “ee.”
Missouruh
.

“Nick Charles,” Benny said, reaching out his hand.

The guy hesitated a moment, and then shook his hands. “Good to meet you, sir.”

“And who might you be?” Benny asked. He said it with a bit of a twang I'd never heard before and that he'd surely not picked up coming of age in South Orange, New Jersey.

Another hesitation. “Charlie.”

“Glad to meet you, Charlie. You the foreman on this here job?”

“I suppose so. At least I'm the one in charge. Is there some problem, sir?”

“None at all, my friend. We admire your handiwork. Mighty fine stuff. This here is my wife Nora. Nora, say hi to Charlie.”

“Hello, Charlie.”

He nodded and touched the rim of his cap. “Ma'am.”

“The wife and I just bought a house in this area,” Benny said. “It's got just about everything you could ask for in a house ‘cept a deck. We heard y'all were building one for the Havens and thought we might just come over and check her out.”

“Not much to see, yet. We're only about halfway through.”

Benny shaded his eyes with his hand and glanced over at the work. “It's looking good.”

“Thank you.”

“You gotta card on you?” Benny asked.

“Card? What kind of card?”

“One of them business cards. Contact info, Charlie. Case we want to get a bid from y'all.”

“No, I don't have a card.”

“You guys are with Corundum, right?”

Charlie pursed his lips and then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“What's the best way to reach someone over there who can answer my questions? Who do I call, Charlie?”

Charlie scratched his chin. “I'm not exactly sure. We get involved after all the preliminaries, if you know what I mean.”

“What preliminaries?”

“Technical stuff. Contracts, architecture drawings, permits, you name it. We don't come in ‘til they're ready to break ground.”

“Who's involved before that?” I asked.

He turned to me and frowned. “Ma'am?”

“You said you and your crew don't get involved until all the technical stuff is worked out. Who handles that stuff at your company? Would that be Mr. Corundum? Or someone else?”

“I'm not exactly sure, ma'am.”

“If we wanted to talk with someone at Corundum about a deck,” I said, “who should we contact?”

He pondered the question and finally said, “I'm not exactly sure, ma'am.”

“Can you find out?” Benny asked. “We're talking about doing a big deck. Nice piece of change for your company. You might even get some credit for bringing in the business, if you know what I mean, Charlie.”

“I suppose I could take your name and have someone give you a call.”

“Just tell us who to call, Charlie,” Benny said. “We can do the rest. I promise to mention your name.”

“Let me check first. I don't know that we do any business off the street. I think it comes other ways.”

“What other ways?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I don't rightly know, ma'am. But if you'll give me a name and phone number, I'll have someone get back to you.”

“Is this the only crew?” Benny asked.

Charlie looked over at the men and then back at Benny. “We don't have a specific crew, sir. We hire what we need to get all the pending jobs done. Sometimes we have just one crew of men. Other times we might have two crews, or even three. All depends on the workload and the deadlines.”

“Is there another crew out there now?” Benny asked.

“There might be. I don't exactly know.”

Benny said, “But if we hired your company and wanted you to get started right away and your crew was already on this job, the company would still be able to get our job done, too, right?”

“I believe so, sir. But I'd have to confirm that. If you can give me a way to reach you, I can run it down and get back to you.”

“You've been very kind, Charlie,” Benny said. “Mrs. Charles and I will talk it over. If we decide we want a get a bid from your company, I'll drop by with some information for you. Okay?”

“That's fine, sir. Whatever you prefer.”

“Good talking to you, Charlie.”

“Same here. Have a good day.” He turned to me and touched the rim of his cap. “And you, too, ma'am.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Charlie.”