Connections

by Beth Urich

  “Brad was one of my best inspectors. Unfortunately, he quit two weeks ago.”

  “We found that out when we called your office,” Sid said. “What reason did he give during his exit interview?”

  “No interview. His letter of resignation was waiting for me on my desk that Monday morning. It was pretty vague, so I boiled it down to personal reasons.”

  “Did you have any issues with him?” Tom asked.

  “When I was hired, he’d been with the department for a while, which was a good-news-bad-news thing. Took me a few months to get him used to the different rules and processes.”

  “Did he resent that?” Sid asked.

  “He seemed to be okay with it. What’s this about? Did Fortner call the tip-line with some claim against the department?”

  “We received the information from a subcontractor on one of the jobs Fortner inspected,” Tom said. “The informant claims to have witnessed your inspector taking a bribe from one of the general contractor’s men.”

  Leatherman jerked his head up, and his brow furrowed as he rolled his chair back from the desk. He pulled a file from the cabinet and handed it to Tom. “I haven’t even had time to process this. I was hoping he’d call and change his mind. He was a good man.”

  “Like you said, it’s pretty vague,” Tom said after reading the hand-written note.

  “I take it this accusation against him surprises you,” Sid said.

  “Absolutely. Have you substantiated the claim?”

  “We’re still investigating,” Tom said. “Had you noticed anything unusual about Fortner’s attitude or performance in the last few months? Did he have any personal problems?”

  “I’ll have to admit I’ve been distracted with this building code update and review of Branson ordinances relating to construction. I personally have not seen anything unusual. I’m not aware of any financial issues, although he was divorced a little over a year ago. The rest of the staff may be able to help with more information.”

  “Can you list the jobs Fortner inspected?” Sid asked.

  “He’s probably had occasion to inspect all of them, but I can get you a list with the number of inspections per job. Is that good?”

  “Perfect. And I’d like to take his file,” Tom said.

  Sid added, “Please send your staff down to our office, one at a time.”

  Leatherman walked the detectives to the customer counter close to Claire’s desk. He leaned toward his secretary and spoke in a low tone. “These gentlemen need a list of inspections performed in the last year. Sort it by project name, please. And another sorted by inspector.”

  Tom extended his hand to the department manager and said, “Thanks, Ben. We appreciate your cooperation.”

  “Let me know if you need anything else. Claire can be your first interview when she brings you the reports. I’ll send the others as soon as they return from the job sites.”

  CLAIRE SPENT LESS THAN thirty minutes with the detectives. She had barely met Fortner or anyone else in the department. From her point of view, they were all hardworking and honest guys. Ben Leatherman was a good boss, although it had taken her a couple weeks to get used to his no-nonsense management style. Fortunately, the reports she brought proved to be more interesting.

  Sid handed Tom the printout ordered by inspectors, which he had studied while Tom spoke to the secretary. “Fortner worked primarily on Fortune Enterprises projects,” he said.

  “Including the one Frankie told us about,” Tom commented.

  “It could be a coincidence, but Fortner didn’t do as many reinspections as the other men in the department, especially on Allen’s projects.”

  Before Tom could comment one of the building inspectors knocked on the detectives’ door. He extended his hand and crossed the room when Sid motioned him in. “Harry Pine,” he said. “I work for Ben Leatherman. Claire said you need to ask me some questions.”

  Sid said, “Have a seat, Harry. This shouldn’t take too long.”

  “What’s this all about? Am I in trouble?” Pine asked. His forced smile twitched before disappearing.

  Tom shook his head. “Today we are interested in Brad Fortner. You worked with him for several years. Correct?”

  Pine seemed puzzled, but relieved. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “How would you describe his performance?” Sid asked.

  “He did his job okay. I sat in on one of his preemployment interviews. He knew the building codes, but he’d been in the field for less than two years as an apprentice. I felt we needed someone with more experience, but management out-voted me. Still, he came onboard pretty quickly.”

  “Seemed like a competent, honest inspector?”

  “From where I stood, yes. I’ve never heard a bad thing about him. But, to be honest, I don’t pay much attention to how other inspectors do their jobs. That’s why they pay Leatherman the big bucks. Right?”

  Sid chuckled. “Would you know why Fortner quit a couple weeks ago?”

  “Complete surprise to me, especially not giving notice. You can burn bridges that way. And I was under the impression he needed the job. I hope he found another good one.”

  “Does that mean you don’t know where he went?”

  “Not a clue.”

  Tom asked, “What do you mean he needed the job?”

  “The divorce. I heard his wife took the credit cards with her. Word is the cards were maxed out before Brad could even pick up the phone to cancel them. I know he worked another job in the evenings for a while to pay them off, but it was a temporary part-time thing.”

  “Does he have friends or relatives who might know how to locate him?”

  “I’m afraid you’ve gotten everything I know about Brad Fortner.”

  “Okay,” Tom said, standing up. He patted Pine on the back as they moved toward the door. “You can tell Claire we’re ready for the next interview.”

  The second inspector confirmed what Pine had said but offered also that Fortner hung around with a fellow gun enthusiast called Stevey or Stoney, but he didn’t know a last name. Each of the two part-time apprentices hired by Leatherman in the past year echoed Claire’s general statement.

  Sid volunteered to check out the Stevey-Stoney lead by speaking to a guy he knew at the shooting range east of town.

  Tom contacted his friend Gary Wyler to pin down who may have given Fortner the bribe. The detective did not specify a company or project, nor did he tell his friend why he was asking. Based on Frankie’s description alone, Gary gave Tom the names of three men. Two of the men were fairly low-level employees at a couple of the contractors working Branson jobs. However, one was a site manager for Fortune Enterprises. According to the inspection reports provided by Leatherman, the man had worked several projects in town over the past year, including the one at which Frankie witnessed the payoff. Gary said the guy was Allen’s assistant.

  Tom was hanging up from speaking to Fortner’s credit card company when Sid returned to the office. “I hit pay dirt,” Tom said.

  “I did pretty well myself,” Sid said, taking his notepad from his pocket and slamming it on his desk.

  “Did you find Stevey?”

  “Brad and Stoney were regulars at the shooting range on JJ Highway near Kirbyville. They haven’t come around for a few weeks. My contact said it isn’t particularly unusual for the two to miss a couple weeks occasionally. Apparently the two frequent the little bar on JJ in the Pinetop area not far from the range.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Hey, this is the Ozarks. We don’t keep track of our fellow man.”

  “What about an address or phone for Stoney?”

  “I’m afraid the bar is as close as my friend could get. Like a lot of people, including Fortner, Stoney has a post office box. If the bar doesn’t pan out, we can try the range on the weekend when more members are around. Maybe someone will have better information.”

  “We can try the bar tonight. What did you get from the landlord?”

&
nbsp; “Landlady is Evelyn Hartman. Her office is in Ozark. Runs several low-end rentals in the area, mostly south of Branson. She had nothing on the ex-wife Sharon who moved out a while ago. Evelyn didn’t care because Brad paid the rent on time.”

  “Does Evelyn know he moved out?”

  “She does now.”

  “Does she have a forwarding for him?”

  “The post office box we already know about. None of the neighbors saw anything strange, like a moving van. The place is furnished so Fortner probably didn’t have much.”

  Tom said, “I did a bit better than you. I was able to verify our guy paid off his extensive credit card debt. Didn’t take long as it turns out.”

  “Hmm,” Sid said.

  “Also, I may have a lead on the person who bribed Brad. We can take a ride out to the job site and check him out.”

  “Let me guess. The new office complex?”

  BASED ON FRANKIE’S description, Tom spotted Paul Andrews immediately. The detective observed the man from a distance, then approached a small circle of workers and asked to speak to the site manager. The group simultaneously turned in Paul’s direction. One of the men shouted, “Hey, Paul, someone to see you.”

  Andrews waved, then finished his conversation with a crew delivering a load of gravel. Tom waited for Paul to walk toward him, hoping Sid could get a clear photo from the car.

  “How can I help you, Detective Collingwood?”

  “You know who I am?”

  “I’ve seen your picture in the paper a few times. What’s up?”

  “We’re trying to find a former city employee, Brad Fortner.”

  Andrews glanced down and kicked a rock with the side of his work boot. “Can’t say the name sounds familiar. Frankly, I don’t deal with inspectors much other than to resolve an issue of some kind. You should speak to the job foreman.”

  The Site Manager turned and walked toward the unfinished building. Within two minutes the foreman emerged. It took him another two minutes to tell Tom that he knew Fortner and was sorry to see him quit and move away. Brad was one of the few competent inspectors the construction boss had worked with in his fifteen years in the business. Tom handed him a card and asked him to call if he remembered anything else or if he saw Fortner anywhere.

  Tom scooted into the passenger side and said, “Let’s go see what Stoney’s up to.”

  The detectives were quiet for several minutes, but apparently Sid couldn’t stand it. “What did Andrews say?” he asked.

  “He said he didn’t deal with inspectors much, didn’t remember Fortner.”

  “That’s probably reasonable. Is that why you talked to the other man?”

  “That was the job foreman. He said Brad was a good inspector and he enjoyed working with him. He didn’t know why the guy left town or where he went.”

  “Dead end.”

  “Maybe not,” Tom said.

  “How so?”

  “I didn’t tell Andrews that Fortner was a city building inspector. I said he was a city employee.”

  THE BAR WAS LARGER than Tom expected. A metal and wooden building was sheltered by tall cedars on three sides. The gravel parking lot extended from the front wall to the road and currently accommodated a dozen vehicles—all pickup trucks. “Cold Beer” in red neon lettering dominated the large window next to the door.

  When Tom and Sid crossed the threshold, the barkeeper glanced around the room. As if warned by a secret alarm, the customers turned toward the door.

  Tom said, “We need to talk to Herman Stonebridge.”

  Everyone laughed except the man sitting on the end bar stool. “I didn’t do it,” the man shouted and loud cackles filled the room.

  “Are you Stonebridge?” Sid asked.

  “Stoney.”

  “Can we go somewhere more private?”

  Stoney swiveled off the stool and moved to a table. “You fellas want a beer?”

  “Maybe later,” Tom said.

  “You must be the one who went to the range today,” Stoney said, pointing toward Sid.

  “News travels fast.”

  “It does in this neighborhood.” He took a drink of his beer, then continued. “I’m afraid I can’t help you much. Brad and I have been friends for quite a while and he said nothing to me, just disappeared. I didn’t know he’d taken off until I saw his house was up for rent.”

  Tom asked, “You hadn’t noticed anything odd in his behavior? Anything bothering him? Problems with the ex-wife?”

  “Sharon will always be a problem, but I doubt he heard from her once she moved back to her mother’s in Harrison.”

  “When was that?” Sid asked.

  “Two, maybe three months. She went traveling after the divorce. Brad said she charged things as far away as New Orleans before he could get those cards cancelled. I guess when the ex-husband-well dried up, she returned to Momma.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I wouldn’t say his behavior was odd exactly, but a few weeks ago he seemed spooked by something. When I asked him about it, he said I was imagining things, so I let it go. Next thing I know, he was gone.”

  “When you say spooked, do you mean frightened?”

  “More like antsy, like something was out of his hands.”

  Sid said, “Maybe it was the credit card debt.”

  “No, he paid those off pretty quick. Had an extra job for several months to make sure he took care of it.”

  “Do you have any guess where he might’ve gone? Somewhere he used to live or wanted to move? Any friends he might have asked for help?”

  “Nope. He was born in Taney County. I don’t remember him discussing any other place he wanted to see, let alone live in.”

  Tom pushed away from the table and Sid followed suit.

  “Thanks for your help, Stoney,” Sid said, handing him a card. “If you think of anything or see Brad, give us a call.”

  “I have to say, you fellas have me worried. I’ll ask around, see if anyone else might know something.”

  As they drove back to the office, Tom said, “Let’s see if we can find the ex-wife or her mother in Harrison. And put out a bulletin on Fortner. Start with an identify-and-report. We don’t want him to run any farther than he has already.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  By the time Kate removed all the vitriol from her first draft nothing remained about Allen. She clasped her hands and cracked her knuckles—a habit her mother could never get her to break. When she started the new draft, she envisioned the least charge or accusation which could be brought against the councilman. Two immediately came to mind, so she led with those points and provided background for the offences. She sailed to the end paragraph, which provided some biographical information about the Fortune Enterprises executive. Usually, she would work an article more before sending to Helen, but she wanted to make sure she was on the right track. An hour after the upload, Helen knocked on Kate’s cubicle wall.

  “This needs a bit of tweaking,” the editor said, pulling a chair close to the reporter’s desk.

  Kate said, “Is it worthless or worth fixing?”

  “Given that we have no idea what, if anything, will be brought against Allen, your article is a good template. My suggestion would be to put stronger information about each charge. You would want to confirm with the police or prosecutor what can be released. For example, I know you have more about the relationship with Wainright and what happened with the survey.”

  “I’m probably doing this too early.”

  “Keep in mind, the police may have a lot more than you do. It would be better to let their investigation come to a conclusion and let the prosecutor decide what the charges are.”

  “I know you’re right, and I appreciate your reading my cathartic piece. You should have seen the first draft.”

  Helen snickered. “I hesitate to imagine.”

  “Honestly, my greatest fear is that nothing will come of it. That he’ll get away with what may turn out to be making a
huge profit for himself and bolstering Branson’s tourist industry.”

  “Don’t forget, you can probably have him charged with assault. It might be a stretch, he might get away with it, but nevertheless he threatened you.”

  “He was so desperate when he came to our house. It was so out of character, at least his public persona. More than that, it was careless.”

  “And it was all about the agreement between his grandfather and Etta Stupholds?”

  “And Lex Porter. The three were best of friends.”

  “Right,” Helen acknowledged in a whisper.

  “Best of friends,” Kate repeated, remembering her conversation with Etta about the three childhood companions.

  “Kate, I need you to focus on the article about the local fires. Do a follow-up based on the new information you’ve gathered. Check with Chief Scherington to verify before we print it. Let’s run it past your detective friend too, as a courtesy.”

  Helen’s reference to Tom created a warm bubble in Kate’s tummy which quickly spread to her arms. She smiled as the editor walked away. But before Helen made it down the hall to her office, the reporter returned to the nagging question she had about Etta.

  KATE KNOCKED ON THE screen door still mulling over the best approach to a follow-up interview. Although surprised, Etta nodded, turned, and ushered the reporter into the living room.

  “So, tell me what has confused you,” the older woman said once they were settled.

  “The partnership agreement,” Kate said. “First, let me confess I gave you a copy. Call it my reporter’s instinct or paranoia, perhaps.”

  “I realized later it was a copy.”

  “You didn’t contact me to request the original or to ask what I intended to do with it. But you must have mentioned it to Jack, because his grandson came to my house to retrieve it.”

  “I didn’t know,” she whispered. She sat forward in her chair, her expression somewhere between embarrassed and concerned.

  Kate said, “He took me by surprise and was quite rude, even threatening.”

  “I understand why you’d be upset and maybe even confused, but, as you pointed out when you returned the documents, they belong to me. They are my keepsakes. I don’t believe I have to explain my motives or my actions regarding them to you.”