“It’s about this job. The McComb project. Stan asked me to do a walk-through with him tomorrow, but I’m not up on the current tech. I’m no longer qualified to do it, and I told him so. I couldn’t mention your name, since I promised I wouldn’t let him know I talked to you, but you should be doing this job.
“You need to call him and offer to fly up. Tell him you know Blake’s work—which you do, or at least you did—and you can rearrange your schedule to come up immediately.”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t? Of course you can. Heck, you could have had my job in a nanosecond if you wanted it.”
I shoved aside my plate, and poured another cup of coffee from the carafe on the table. Before I went on. “I’m not saying I wasn’t good. I was. But you could work rings around me, you were that much better.”
I stopped and cocked my head to one side, looking at him.
“By the way, do you have my job?”
“No. Nobody does. When you left there was a reshuffle of duties and parts of the job went to three or four different people. Whole place is different now.”
Richard shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and frowned. The conversation clearly bothered him.
“So why can’t you do this, Richard? You’re the best person for the job. I’m not. Not anymore. Stan said he’d pay me as a consultant, but you’d be better.”
“I wouldn’t, Georgie. Believe me.” Richard glanced sideways at his wife. She arched her eyebrows at him and nodded. “You might as well tell her,” she said. “You know you’re going to.”
He looked back at me. “I’m not supposed to know this, but I have some friends in the controller’s office. There’s a cash crunch. Nothing critical, they say. Don’t worry about it.
“But I know Blake was concerned, and Stan was in Blake’s office a lot the last couple weeks. Rumor was they were courting some big investor. Millionaire, I heard.
“I think part of Blake’s job on this trip was to seal the deal for the cash we need. And that’s the part I can’t do.”
I let the information sift into my brain. A few more pieces of the puzzle fell into place. It explained Blake’s buddy act with Chad and Astrid at Tiny’s, and Stan flying in to take over instead of sending one of the tech crew.
The contact with McComb was more than a job. And more than a possible expansion to the Northwest.
Samurai was fishing for money, looking for an investor with deep pockets. The same deep pockets I suspected Gregory Whitlock wanted to pick.
“You didn’t talk to Blake at all while he was up there, did you? I seem to recall you said you hadn’t spoken to him directly.”
“I did talk to him once. That was when he told me he’d seen you, but he hadn’t had a chance to actually talk to you.”
I thought for a minute. “This might sound kind of strange,” I said, “but did he say anything about asking me to come back to Samurai?”
Richard chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, his brow furrowed as he tried to recall his conversation with Blake. He shook his head. “No, not exactly. He did say we should have tried to talk you out of resigning, and we should do something about it—that we needed you.
“But he’d said things like that all along.”
His mouth twisted and a note of apology crept into his tone. “He was angry when you left, Georgie. Said you made your choice, or something like that.
“He said you didn’t really care about Samurai. All you wanted was the money.”
chapter 24
“What money? This supposed buyout?”
Heads turned from nearby tables, and I realized I had shouted. My face grew hot, and I clutched my coffee cup in my fist. I forced myself to speak more softly. “There wasn’t any money! Blake started those rumors as a cover-up.”
Richard hesitated. He looked around, making sure our neighbors had gone back to their own business before he answered.
“I don’t think Blake started those rumors, Georgie. He was angry, yes. But it wasn’t a show. You could tell when Blake was faking. He didn’t think we could, but the people that were around him knew.”
“I couldn’t,” I muttered. I could taste the bitterness in my words. “He had me completely fooled.”
“Maybe not,” Richard said softly. “I think he really was upset when you left. He said he felt betrayed and he got upset whenever someone mentioned you.”
I shook my head. “There’s just one small problem with that, Richard. He dumped me. On voice mail. Wouldn’t even talk to me—just left a message and refused to answer the phone when I called him.”
Richard shrugged. It was clear he didn’t agree with me. I wasn’t going to convince him. He wasn’t going to convince me. There was no use discussing it.
I decided to try another tack.
“If Blake didn’t start those rumors, then who did? Who had anything to gain by making me look bad?”
“Nobody. But the way I heard it . . .” he glanced at his wife and she nodded her encouragement.
“She has a right to know, Rick.”
His head bobbed in agreement, and looked back at me. “I heard the news was leaked by the board. They didn’t want to talk about your resignation, not officially. But the word got around. You took a big pile of cash and walked away.”
“And you all believed it?” I clenched my hands into fists, my fingernails digging into my palms. I concentrated on breathing, focused on the task at hand. I pushed away the anger that washed over me when I thought everyone believed I would abandon the company I started.
Richard squirmed. “Not so much, at first. But then nobody heard from you, and it got easier to believe until I finally stopped not believing.”
He shook his head, his voice pleading. “For a long time I wanted to think there was another reason.”
Barbara reached for his hand and squeezed it. She looked across at me, and I caught a glint of fierce protectiveness in her eyes. She dared me to argue with him.
“I don’t blame you. At least you called me when you heard about Blake. I appreciate that. Really.”
Barbara seemed to accept my statement, and I went on. “But there was never any buyout. Blake left me a voice mail late one night, and I got called in early the next morning and offered me the chance to resign before the board fired me.”
Somehow it didn’t hurt as much to say it this time. Maybe I had just repeated it enough times that I was numb. Or maybe the whole mess had lost its ability to cause me pain. For whatever reason, having it out in the open was becoming easier each time I revealed the truth.
Richard looked stunned. “I never heard anything like that. And I don’t think Blake knew anything about it. I mean, why would he say we shouldn’t have let you resign and we should do something about it? He couldn’t have known.”
I shrugged. “It’s what he would be expected to say.”
“He meant it.” Richard sat straight and looked me in the eye. His gaze held steady. “He didn’t know.”
“So you think the rumors came from the board?”
“I know they did.”
We sat for a minute without speaking. Several tables near us were now filled by chattering groups enjoying a Sunday breakfast out. The buzz of conversation washed over our quiet table, carried along with the rich fragrance of continually brewing pots of coffee.
There was one more topic I had to broach. I tried to find a graceful way to slide it into the conversation, but nothing came to mind.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when my cell phone rang. I hastily fished it out of my bag and glanced at the display.
Wade.
I frowned. “Sorry, I have to take this.”
I tried to keep the conversation short. Wade suggested we have brunch at a restaurant a few miles north of Pine Ridge. I of course turned him down, but he persisted.
Finally, I admitted I wasn’t in town. “There was someone I needed to see,” I said. “I’ll be back later this afternoon.”
I did some mental arithmetic. “How about we meet for dinner?”
“Georgie.” There was an uneasy pause. “Where are you?”
“I don’t think you want to know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No. Really. You don’t. Trust me on this.”
The silence at the other end of the line stretched long enough that I thought I’d lost the call. I held the phone away from my ear and checked. The call timer continued clicking off the seconds of silence. That was a bad sign.
Wade sighed. “When will you be back?”
“Late this afternoon. So dinner would be fine,” I said brightly.
Wade didn’t believe it. “Georgie,” he said slowly, “just where did you go?”
“To see an old friend. Someone who might be able to help me figure out what happened. Okay?”
“Not okay.” He sighed again. “I’m not going to get an answer before dinner, am I?”
“Nope. I’ll meet you at Tiny’s at seven.”
I hung up before he could say anything more.
I’d managed to stay calm while I was on the phone, but once the connection was broken my hands started to shake. I could barely manage to get the phone back in my bag. Both Richard and Barbara stared at me. In the end, Richard stretched one long arm across the table and held the bag steady, while I dropped the phone in its pocket.
“Your boyfriend?” Barbara asked.
I nodded. “Sort of. I think.”
“You didn’t tell him where you were going, did you?”
“It is that obvious?” I hung my head. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at this.”
“At what?” Richard asked, his expression puzzled. “Boyfriends?”
I laughed harshly. After watching my experience with Blake, he should know the answer to that one.
“No.”
This was the place where I would have told them to sit down, but they were already sitting. There was no way to ease into it. I blurted out, “The sheriff says Blake Weston was murdered.”
Richard’s mouth formed a silent O of surprise and his eyes grew wide.
Barbara seemed to take the news more calmly. “That’s not what that call was about, though.”
I shook my head. “I knew before I came down.”
She waited a few seconds, then asked, “And?”
“And what?” Richard said. His voice was thin and reedy, and he looked pasty, as though he was in shock.
“And why did she fly all the way down here? To tell us that? You would have heard at work tomorrow, or she could have given you the news over the phone.” She turned to me. “Right?”
I nodded. “Absolutely. But there are some things that don’t add up. And there’s another complication.
“I think the sheriff suspects me.”
“Ridiculous!” Richard had regained his voice. “What possible reason could you have? You and Blake were history.”
I winced. “That’s what I thought. But Blake showed up at the site where I was working—I’m on the construction crew at the McComb site—and we had”—I hesitated—“words.”
Barbara nodded. “A public argument, right? And he turned up dead just a few hours later? Yeah, that doesn’t look good.”
She gave me a hard look. “Does the sheriff know you’re down here?”
“I didn’t tell him, either,” I said, remembering the feeling of being watched in the airport. I hoped he didn’t know I’d left the area, but I couldn’t be sure.
“He didn’t tell me I couldn’t leave town, he just said not to plan any long trips. I’ll be back in a few hours.” I heard a note of defensiveness in my voice, even though I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Exactly.
Barbara chuckled. “You ever consider becoming a lawyer? You sure got that letter-of-the-law thing down.”
I looked at Richard. For the first time, some of what had happened made sense. No one tried to reach me because they thought I’d left them and deserted the company. The board got rid of me, and blamed me at the same time.
No wonder Stan offered me the chance to resign. If this is what happened when I left “voluntarily,” I didn’t want to see what a real fight would look like.
The sidewalk outside the diner was crowded with shoppers, and every table inside was full. We had lingered far longer than was expected, and the waiter was checking more frequently.
Richard looked around, surveying the crowd. It was time for us to leave.
I tugged my credit card from my pocket and reached for the check. Richard pulled it away before my hand closed around it.
“This one’s on me, Georgie. Consider it an apology for believing the things I heard.”
“You don’t have to do that. I invited you.” My protest sounded weak, and it was. I’d be paying for this trip for several months if the Samurai consulting fee didn’t materialize.
He shook his head. “My treat. You get the check when I come visit you.”
“Yeah. Like that’ll happen.”
“It could. Especially if we still do this McComb job.” He grinned. “You’re the one that wants me to come do the work so you don’t have to.”
He had a point. I did want him to come do the job, because there was no way I could.
We shook hands on the sidewalk, with promises to keep in touch. Maybe we even meant it.
I told Barbara how delighted I’d been to meet her. I did mean that. It was good to see that someone had come out of Samurai with a successful relationship. Blake and I certainly hadn’t, and it sounded as though Stan Fischer had lost another marital round.
At least somebody was happy.
chapter 25
I was early getting back to the airport, so of course my flight was delayed. I used the time to open up my laptop and do some research.
Once I knew what to look for, the signs were there. The Samurai press releases were relentlessly upbeat—like those of any other company—but now it felt like they were trying to hide bad news.
I checked up on Blake Weston, Stan Fischer, and the other directors whose names I could remember. Occasionally a society story would link a familiar name to Stan and I would have another lead to follow.
I had a long list of places to look by the time they called my flight. I waited until the rest of the flight was boarded, then shut my laptop, shoved it in the case, and claimed my seat.
I’d allowed for delays when I made my plans to meet Wade, but I was still running late. I called him as soon as I ransomed the Beetle from the parking garage and headed east.
The connection was poor, but Wade’s annoyance came through loud and clear. I hung up and prayed to the traffic gods.
I sped along I-205 and wheeled off at the Sunnyside exit. My hands gripped the wheel tightly, and I pushed the tiny four-banger to its limit. Wade and I had been a couple for a few months in high school. When I went away to college we lost touch. Now that I was back we were still trying to figure out if we were a thing or not, and lately I was hoping we were.
But I seemed to be a magnet for trouble, and Wade was a politician with prospects. The combination could prove difficult for both of us.
I zipped into the lot at Tiny’s with about two minutes to spare. I finger-combed my hair, thankful that the short cut—practical for work—required minimum care for a dinner date.
My cords and jacket were a bit overdressed for Tiny’s but I hoped Wade wouldn’t notice. At least the dark boots would be right at home in the tavern.
I didn’t see Wade’s hybrid in the parking lot, and I breathed a sigh of relief. If I got here first he couldn’t really complain about me being late.
I said a quick thank-you to the gods of traffic and went inside.
Someone was waiting for me, but it wasn’t Wade.
It was the sheriff. And he didn’t look at all happy to see me. In fact, he looked downright peeved.
“Evening, Miss Neverall,” he said stiffly. “Would you care to step outside with me?”
“I’m waiting for Cou
ncilman Montgomery,” I answered with a charming smile. “We’re having dinner.”
The sheriff put a hand under my elbow. He had a grip like a pair of locking pliers. It would do me no good to try and pull away.
“Miss Neverall, I will ask you one more time. Would you care to step outside with me?”
The alternative, clearly, was going to be something unpleasant in front of everyone in Tiny’s.
I turned and went back out the door, the sheriff clamped tightly on my arm.
Once we were outside, I protested his treatment. “What do you mean, grabbing me like that?” I kept my voice down so it didn’t carry back inside. “What do you want that’s so important you have to go around grabbing people?”
“Murder is what’s so important, Neverall.” I noticed he dropped the Miss now that we were out of earshot of the small crowd inside. “That, and people who run off when I tell them to stay around.”
I opened my mouth, but he stopped me with a firm shake of his head. “Please do not say anything more.”
Then, to my dismay, he began to recite my Miranda rights.
When he finished I stood there with my mouth open, unable to form a single coherent word.
“Do you understand these rights?” he repeated.
I nodded.
“Georgiana Neverall, I have a warrant to detain you as a material witness in the homicide of Blake Weston.” He signaled to a car in the back of Tiny’s lot, and an unmarked sedan cruised silently up to the driveway near where we stood.
“Come with me.” He pulled me along toward the car and opened the back door. He stood so he blocked my path, should I get the idea I could run away.
I knew when I had no chance. I sat down in the backseat and watched him close the door on me.
Once he was seated in the front, he spoke without turning around. “Put on your seat belt, Neverall. Or I can come back there and do it for you.”
I put on my seat belt.
The sheriff grunted his satisfaction with my cooperation and nodded to the deputy. We pulled out onto the deserted highway, leaving my Beetle with my laptop inside in the parking lot at Tiny’s.
Lead-Pipe Cinch Page 16