Page 20 of Beneath Still Waters

Connor hadn’t caught on either, and he was trained to see it, to watch for any guest who might be using drugs to blot out memories they didn’t want to deal with. Connor would be furious with himself for not seeing signs of hard drug use andfor having some sort of drug trafficking highway right next to Wayside.

“I didn’t see it either. I just thought he was a little suspicious of strangers. I hope we figure out what was going on.”

Pulling into the logging company parking lot was like taking a trip back in time. Ferd pulled her sunglasses from her purse and shoved them on, mainly so she could look around at faces and not be noticed. All the men looked rugged, the kind of men who worked hard for fifteen hours between here and whatever their home situation looked like, then crashed every night to get up and do it all over again.

Lord, bless them, because I could never do that.

A man in a bright orange vest strode their way. “Can I help you?” he yelled from about twenty yards off.

Duke held up his badge. “Piper’s Ridge Police. I’m here to investigate the death of Bailey Nosboum. Can we talk for a minute?”

The man’s mouth flattened. “We both know darn well it’s going to take longer than a minute.” He turned and led the way to the building, his strides long.

Ferd nudged Duke. “You think he was expecting us?”

“Nope. Most people don’t even seem to realize the guy is dead. No one reads the paper anymore, and the gossip mill hasn’t kicked in. I’m sure Kelly will get the word out now that she knows for sure.” He kept his face looking straight ahead.

She knew, so why hadn’t she spread it yet? I wonder what Kelly would say about me . . .?

Inside, the fiberboard-paneled walls had a dark faux wood-grain finish. The effect was to make the room incredibly dim, even with the bright sun pouring in through the high windows. All the furniture was brown leather and old enough to be held together with duct tape and prayers.

“Have a seat. All I have to offer you is water from the cooler fountain or coffee. It was brewed at 3 A.M. That was a warning.”

Ferd couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter but subdued it when he glared at her.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He angled his head down and stared at them.

“Bailey was killed a few days ago. Ferd Kincade and I are looking into his death. We want to know what happened. Since he allegedly worked for you, we wanted to talk with you.”

“No ‘allegedly’ about it. He worked for me and he worked hard. Last winter, he worked a double shift with a broken wrist because two guys called in sick.”

He paused to let that settle over them, then continued. “I paid him in cash weekly. Not because I necessarily wanted to keep anything from the government, but I suppose you could say that. His ex-wife took him to court three times to get more money out of him. Poor guy couldn’t even eat. She took him for every cent, and the judge kept allowing it. She’d show up here in her heels and fancy cars, yelling at me to release his employment records. She could see him working when she pulled up, but I didn’t keep records for him.”

“What did you tell her to get her to leave?” Ferd asked.

“I told her he was my personal assistant, not a company employee, and I paid him in cash. Unless he didn’t pay his taxes, he wasn’t doing nothing wrong. She pressed me for how much I was paying him. She said her money had run out and she'd either have to get a job or lose her house. I told her I paid him four dollars an hour because I own the building where he rents and part of his wage is a rent credit. Part of that is true.” He grinned. “She came back with a lawyer, but I told him he needed a court order for me to release anything to him. Not sure if that was true or not, but he never came back.”

Duke gave her a glance, letting her know he was asking the next question. “Paul, is that your name?” He nodded toward the old nameplate on the desk with faded gold letters. “If you had to describe her temperament and mood to me, could you do that?”

Paul threw his head back and laughed. “Yes, it’s Paul. And can I? You bet I can. She was madder than I’ve ever seen a woman get. I don’t know what drew those two together in the first place, but she was an emotional sort whereas he was always level-headed. A lot of my guys’ll cuss when things go wrong, or right, or just because. Not Bailey. Never heard him say a single thing he wouldn’t say in front of a lady or at a church. Not saying swearing determines a man’s goodness, especially out here, but he was a good guy.”

“And you wanted to protect him from his ex? Right?” Ferd asked.

“Yes, since I could. She still knew where he lived and would pester him at home. But here, I could be a barrier. I don’t allow anyone except inspectors and paid employees into the trees. That’s like my factory and there’s no reason for anyone to go there.”

Duke turned on his phone recording system. “Letting you know this particular question is being recorded. Did you ever, at any time, see Bailey Nosboum with drugs or alcohol of any kind?”

Paul tilted his head slightly. “I’m guessing if you’re asking me that, you never met the guy. Or never got to know him. He’d go to the bar and order a beer to sit with the guys, then slide his drink to the first guy who finished. He didn’t even sip. He was dry. As for drugs, no. He hurt himself about two months ago. A limb fell on him when we were trimming. All I had was ibuprofen. He wouldn’t even take that. Said he’d sleep it off.”

Back out in the car, Ferd waited for Duke to do his usual buckle, then turn up the AC. She’d realized he did that less for comfort and more for the feeling of privacy.

“We’ll need to find the information on his ex and have a chat with her. Not paying support is motive.”

While she could understand Bailey’s need to survive and keep some of what he earned, valid or not, the wife had the court on her side and when people expect payment, they’ll do what they normally might not to get it. “Glad I never have to worry about that kind of relationship.”

When life gave her lemons, she’d burned them to a crisp.

SEVENTEEN