Just Cause

by Susan Page Davis

  Dan squinted at the building. “Hatcher & Brody!”

  “That’s their main office.”

  As they approached the church, Laurel’s nerves began to kick up. She’d known this would be difficult, but she was unprepared for overpowering grief. She touched his arm. “Dan, the cemetery’s right behind the church. Would you mind—?”

  “Of course not.”

  Matthew and Louise Newman came from the parsonage before Dan had stopped the car.

  “Laurel, dear!” Louise hugged Laurel as she stepped from the car.

  “Mrs. Newman,” Laurel choked. “It’s so good to see you.”

  Dan shook hands with the couple. The Newmans drew them inside, and they sat at the kitchen table.

  “I’m so glad your attorney called me,” the pastor said. “If I’d known I could have helped you before, I’d have done anything. We prayed so hard for you.”

  “We were on vacation when Bob died,” Louise said. “It was a real shock, when we came home and heard about it. We tried to see you, but you weren’t at the house. Matthew tried to find you after we read in the paper that you were released from jail. It was as if you’d vanished.”

  Laurel squeezed Louise’s hand. “That was intentional. I didn’t feel like I could come back here. Everyone assumed I did it.”

  “No, that’s not so,” the pastor said. “Louise and I never thought you could hurt Bob.”

  “We knew there was a problem,” Louise agreed, “but you were trying to support him. Of course you didn’t kill him!”

  “Thank you,” said Laurel. “I ought to have come to you, I guess. I got such negative reactions everywhere I went, and Bob’s family turned totally against me. I wanted to get as far away from Oakland as I could.”

  “Where are you staying?” Mr. Newman asked.

  “We have rooms at a hotel in Augusta.”

  “Come stay with us,” Louise urged.

  “Oh, no, we couldn’t.”

  “Of course you could,” Pastor Newman said. “The children are all gone now. We have plenty of room for you both.”

  “My friend Judy is coming in a week, and we’ll be staying with her,” Laurel said.

  “But this week?” Louise’s eyes were bright with hope.

  “We’d be awfully close to the Hatcher family,” Dan reminded them. “If she stays in Oakland, word will get around.”

  “Is that so awful?” the pastor asked.

  “We don’t want the press hounding her.”

  “We can be discreet,” Louise insisted. “If you think it’s that important, you don’t have to leave the house for the next few days. We’ll run any errands you need done.”

  Laurel felt a new optimism. “Let’s do it.”

  Dan touched the back of her sweater lightly. “All right, I’ll run back to Augusta and check us both out. Would you like to visit the cemetery first?”

  She drew a deep breath. “Yes. Thank you.”

  *****

  The Newmans walked with them down the shady gravel access road between rows of grave markers.

  Robert E. Hatcher, beloved son. A bouquet of lemon lilies nestled at the base of the marker in the newer part of the cemetery.

  “His parents put the stone there.” Laurel stooped, touching the letters with her fingers.

  “Mrs. Hatcher comes every Saturday and leaves flowers,” Louise said.

  Laurel stood abruptly, her hand at her lips, and stumbled down the gravel walk. Dan stared after her.

  “I’ll start lunch,” Louise said. “She ought to have a bite before you go back to Augusta.” She and Pastor Newman turned toward the house.

  Dan walked after Laurel, not trying to catch up, just keeping her in sight. At the far edge of the cemetery, she sat down on a white iron bench, and he strolled toward her.

  “May I sit down?” he asked.

  “I don’t think you’re allowed. Someone might see us together.”

  Dan looked all around. No one was in sight, and he sat down and slipped his arm around her. Laurel took a deep, shaky breath, then with agonizing slowness lowered her head against his shoulder.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he said.

  *****

  “I don’t like you staying in Oakland,” Jim Hight said on Tuesday.

  “We’ll be careful,” Dan said.

  “Well, sunglasses won’t be enough if word gets out.”

  “We want to go to prayer meeting tomorrow night,” Laurel said tentatively.

  “Go to church? No way,” Hight said.

  Dan threw her a sympathetic smile. “It’s all right. We can pray with the Newmans at their house.”

  Hight opened a folder on his desk. “I think we’re making progress. The district attorney is starting to question why Renata Hatcher ended up with her daughter-in-law’s belongings, and I think the civil suit we filed against her and Wayne will go our way. They’re also looking pretty hard at Hatcher & Brody’s bidding procedures.”

  “It’s about time,” Dan said.

  “I’d love to get someone into Hatcher & Brody to look around.” Hight toyed with his pen. “Only trouble is, Wayne Hatcher knows my investigator, Ed Wilton.” He picked up the back section of the morning’s newspaper. “Of course, there is this.”

  He slid the paper across the desk, and Dan read the circled advertisement.

  “It’s perfect!”

  “Thought that might interest you,” Hight said smugly.

  Laurel leaned over to read the notice.

  “They’re hiring security guards at H & B?” She looked from Jim to Dan.

  Jim shrugged. “Guess they’re feeling insecure with all this hullabaloo about the trial, and with the D.A. poking around.”

  The idea of Dan signing on to work for Wayne Hatcher and Jack Brody made her uneasy, but his eyes gleamed.

  “It’s better than I’d hoped. I can get inside their offices legally.”

  I can’t let him! Someone at H & B killed Bob and hired two criminals to find me! She swallowed hard, knowing Dan’s mind was made up.

  Jim eyed Dan speculatively. “I assume you have genuine references.”

  Dan grinned. “Impeccable.”

  Laurel frowned and slumped back in her chair. “Don’t you think that if there was something important in the office building, they’d have found it by now? They wouldn’t need to chase me around looking for it.”

  “Maybe.” Jim looked at the paper again. “Which office was Bob’s?”

  “It’s on the second floor, off the elevator to the right, last door on the left.”

  “We could go the safer route,” Jim said. “I could ask for a warrant and search the office.”

  “Would the judge give it to you?” Dan asked.

  “I don’t know. I’d hate for Wayne Hatcher to get wind of it and start covering his tracks.”

  Dan stood. “Sounds like I’d better get over to Hatcher & Brody and apply for that job.”

  *****

  Dan began working for Hatcher & Brody the next night, taking the graveyard shift at the construction company’s warehouse on the outskirts of Oakland. Laurel spent quiet mornings at the parsonage with Louise, while Dan slept in. Afternoons they rendezvoused with Hight and discussed the case, and in the evening they sat with the Newmans, enjoying their company. A couple of times Dan got his violin out and played hymns, with Louise accompanying him on the piano.

  “I wish you could play for our church people,” Louise sighed as the last notes of “Amazing Grace” faded. “Wouldn’t old Mr. Inman enjoy hearing Dan play, Matthew?”

  “He sure would.”

  Laurel smiled. “Mr. Inman plays the fiddle,” she told Dan.

  “He’s not nearly as skilled as you are, but he loves to hear good music,” Louise said.

  “You’ll have to come back, when all of this is over,” Pastor Newman agreed.

  Dan put his violin in the case, and he and Laurel went out to the sheltered backyard. They sat holding hands until it was time
for Dan to leave for his shift at the warehouse.

  “I’d like to come back and visit here again,” Laurel said. “I’m starting to believe I misjudged some folks.”

  He squeezed her hand. “We will.”

  *****

  On Friday afternoon he told Hight, “I haven’t found anything suspicious yet. If I could just get moved to the office building!”

  “Hang in there,” said Hight.

  Dan nodded. “I did volunteer for overtime. They’re giving me shifts this weekend.”

  On Sunday, he was rewarded for his patience. The night man for the corporate offices called in sick.

  “This is my chance,” he told Hight on the phone.

  “All right,” Jim said. “Check out Bob’s old office, for sure. And if you have the opportunity, we also need to know who handles the bids, and who orders the materials for projects. Who ordered the inferior steel for the Maple Grove bridge, for instance.”

  When he came back to the parsonage shortly after seven in the morning, Dan was too excited to sleep.

  “Let’s go see Jim first.”

  At Hight’s office, Dan reported that he had been able to do a quick investigation in the file room.

  “Wayne Hatcher came in just before midnight and stayed in his office for about an hour. But after he left I found the materials orders for the latest project. The project manager’s signature and Jack Brody’s are on them.”

  “Interesting,” said Jim. “I wonder if he signed the order for the bridge.”

  “If I they put me back in there, I’ll try to locate the older records,” Dan said. “They may all be computerized. If I had time to sit down at the computer, I could get into their financial and personnel records.”

  “How about bids?” Jim asked.

  “They’ve submitted bids on four projects this year, and got two. The main competitor on both the ones they landed was Simon Brothers.”

  “What about the others?”

  “Simon Brothers got a contract for a school addition in Bangor, and another company got one to take out a dam on the Sebasticook River. Simon didn’t bid on that one.”

  “You think Hatcher & Brody could have had the school contract if they’d wanted it?”

  Dan shrugged. “I couldn’t say. They’re busy enough without it. But they might have bid on it just to keep Simon Brothers from making more allegations of bid-fixing.”

  “They must have a mole in Simon Brothers.” Jim leaned back in his chair. “Who would handle the bids?”

  “The estimator and the project manager. The company president would have to give final approval, I’d think,” said Dan.

  “No, I mean who actually held the bid in his hands after the numbers were decided on.”

  Dan’s eyes narrowed. “A secretary? Someone has to type it up and mail it.”

  “I’ll put Wilton on it,” Jim said. “We’ll see if we can find out who in Simon Brothers’ office would have physical access to a bid between the board room and the opening.”

  “You think H & B is paying someone at Simon Brothers?” Laurel asked.

  “Could be. But would it be an official payment, on the books?” Jim asked. “Dan, if you can get in the offices again, look for large payments, especially even sums, to an individual.”

  “Right. Oh, and guess who’s got Bob’s old office.”

  Jim shrugged.

  “Jack Brody.”

  Laurel frowned. “He used to be down the hall next to Wayne.”

  “Guess he liked Bob’s corner view better.”

  Jim sighed. “Let’s hope they put you in the office building again.”

  “If they do,” Dan said, “I have a feeling I’m on the brink of finding something that will prove once and for all that Laurel is innocent.”

  Chapter 15

  Judy called late Monday afternoon, excited and anxious to have them join her at the cottage. Dan and Laurel thanked the Newmans and prepared to leave.

  “The entire church is praying for you,” the pastor assured them. “We haven’t told anyone you’re here, but I’ve made it clear to the congregation that I believe you’re innocent, and that prayer is urgently needed.”

  “Thank you for all you’ve done.” Laurel took his hand for a moment. “If only I’d come to you the first time, I wouldn’t have felt so alone.”

  “Well, child, you’re never alone, you know.”

  “I know that now.”

  “You come back, as soon as you’re able,” Newman said. “You might be surprised at what a warm welcome you’ll get from the people here at the church.”

  They drove to the cottage on the shore of Messalonskee Lake. Judy raced from the porch to meet them as the car came to a stop in the gravel drive.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” she cried, hugging Laurel.

  “We missed you, too! Let’s get unloaded. Dan has to work tonight.”

  They hauled the luggage into the modest cottage and explored. Judy put Dan in the tiny downstairs bedroom, and she and Laurel had the upstairs, where there were two large rooms and a bath. She insisted that they enjoy a swim before supper. An outdoor fireplace near the shore provided her cooking space.

  “I could get used to this life,” Dan said, watching the sun sink toward the pines across the lake. He was stretched out in a lawn chair on the dock. Small waves lapped the pilings and the pebbly beach. Judy and Laurel sat near him with glasses of lemonade. A seagull flapped overhead and landed on the float, anchored twenty yards from shore.

  “Enjoy it while you can,” said Judy. “This will be your peaceful place to come back to every day. You can keep out of sight and rest up for what’s ahead.”

  “I’m so glad you did this,” Laurel told her. “Let’s pray, before Dan goes to work.”

  *****

  Dan had two nights free in the next week, but he spent the others guarding Hatcher & Brody’s warehouse. He nearly despaired of having the opportunity to look around the headquarters again and briefly considered trying to manipulate the guards’ schedules, or even breaking into the executive offices.

  “Don’t even think it,” Laurel protested when he confessed his thoughts to her. “If God wants you in there, He’ll arrange it.”

  “You’re right, of course. It’s just frustrating to know we’re so close to finding something helpful.” It surprised him how desperation had changed his outlook, and he was starting to rationalize blurring the line between honesty and crime. I’d do anything to save Laurel, he thought. Then, appalled at his own ruthlessness, he sat down beside her. “I’m getting a little reckless, I’m afraid.”

  Meanwhile, Hight had news from his investigator.

  “Simon Brothers has three office workers who might be in a good position to access the bid information,” he reported. “A secretary, a file clerk, and Arthur Simon’s personal assistant. The assistant seems the most likely to handle something sensitive like that.”

  “How can we be sure it’s one of them?” Laurel asked.

  “We’re doing background checks, looking for some connection with Hatcher & Brody.”

  “What about Jack Brody and this steel discrepancy?” Once more Dan mentally reviewed the seemingly unconnected incidents.

  “You need to get proof he knew about the switch on the bridge materials,” Jim reminded him.

  “Would that be enough to make him kill his nephew, if Bob got onto it?” Dan asked.

  “Who knows?” Jim scratched his head. “I wouldn’t like to think so.”

  “How’s his alibi for the day of the murder?” Dan queried.

  Jim frowned. “Tight as a drum. Jack took his girlfriend to a field day in Rockland. They were together all day—a hundred people can vouch for them.”

  “So Jack’s out of it,” Laurel said.

  Dan shook his head. “I still think he’s in the middle of it.”

  *****

  The Tuesday before the trial began, Dan was again assigned as watchman at the corporate office building. He made his
rounds alone at an even pace, the way he had at the hospital.

  This might be his last chance to search the files. He and Laurel were enjoying the peaceful days at the cottage with Judy, but the trial loomed before them, giving him a sense of urgency.

  As he checked the offices on the second floor, his excitement grew. No one worked late tonight, and all the rooms were dark.

  He punched the clock outside Bob’s old office and listened to be sure no one else was present, then went in and turned on his penlight. Jack Brody, Vice President of Operations, the name plaque on the walnut desk read. Jack kept a neat desk, with only the plaque and an in-and-out tray on the surface.

  Dan checked each desk drawer quickly then turned to a file cabinet in the corner. He needed to find proof that Brody knew about the switch on the bridge materials, although with an ironclad alibi, that would not be enough to convict him of murdering his nephew. But Dan was convinced it had something to do with Bob’s death. If he found nothing significant here, he would make another round of the building and spend a few extra minutes in the file room to look for the older project files.

  On an off chance, he flipped through the folders to M—Maple Grove, and smiled. A thick folder bore the title. He took it to the desk and spread out the contents.

  As he picked out an invoice from a steel beam distribution company in New Jersey, he heard the elevator door open.

  Dan froze for an instant and then shoved the papers back into the folder, his heart hammering. A light came on in the hallway. No time to put the file back in its proper place. He slid open the top center desk drawer and was closing it on the folder when the office door swung open and the light came on.

  “Who in blazes are you?”

  Jack Brody’s graying blond hair was tousled, and his flashing eyes didn’t quite focus. Dan suspected he’d had a few drinks.

  “I’m the night watchman, sir.”

  “What are doing in my office?”

  “I was making my rounds, sir.”

  His glance flicked to the halfway open file drawer, then back to Dan’s face. “Oh, you were, were you?”