Page 25 of Rage

“I hired him in April. Samuel finished the work in about two weeks and, believe me, it looked great. He planted a bunch of trees. Some shrubs. Added the walkway with pavers. I paid him and we parted ways. Everyone was happy.” He grimaces. “Until we got that big rain a month later. To make a long story short, the walkway trapped all that water against the house. It poured in through the window wells and flooded my basement. I had a ton of damage. Not just structural stuff, but my office equipment.”

He shakes his head as if the memory pains him. “At that point, I had a landscaping engineer come out and he told me a drain should have been installed between the walkway and the house. I contacted Samuel and told him I wanted my money back and compensation for the damage. Turns out, he didn’t have insurance and balked. Shortly thereafter, he stopped returning my calls and the situation went downhill from there.”

“Do you think Samuel misrepresented his abilities?” I ask.

“Not really. He had a good reputation. I’d checked his references. He showed me photos of his work. I figured if he could handle a job as large as the country club, he could damn well handle my humble abode.” He thinks about that a moment. “He screwed up, but in his defense I think Samuel was an honest guy. I think he just got in over his head with the grading. He didn’t realize he needed to install the drain.” He shrugs. “To tell you the truth, I’d have settled for less than the fifteen. It was sort of an ask-for-a-lot-get-a-little strategy.”

I jot the highlights in my notebook. “Did you argue with Mr. Yutzy?”

“A few times,” he admits. “Over the phone mostly. I mean, it was a mess.”

“Were there any threats made?” I ask. “Anything like that?”

“I threatened to sue him.” He huffs. “Guess that’s not going to work out.”

“When’s the last time you saw Samuel?” I ask.

“Probably been a month or so,” he says.

“Where were you Thursday morning?”

“Got up around seven A.M. Had a cup of coffee. And came directly here.”

“What about Wednesday evening?”

Impatience flares in his eyes, but he quashes it quickly. “I was here, at the brewery. Last man out the door. Like always.”

“Can anyone substantiate that?”

A flash of anger this time, as if he’s chafed because I’ve used up my quota of time and questions. He looks away, purses his lips. “The bartender left at two A.M. I left around two thirty.”

“Where did you go after you left here?”

“I was beat. Went home.”

“Is there someone who can vouch for that?”

“My cat, but he’s not much of a conversationalist.”

I don’t smile. “Mr. Brooks, do you know if Samuel Yutzy was having any problems with anyone else?”

He shakes his head. “I never heard anything negative about him. Sure, we had that dispute. It happens. People screw up; they make mistakes. It was unpleasant.” He turns pensive. “To tell you the truth, Chief Burkholder, Samuel was a stand-up guy. He had that Amish way about him, you know? He was quiet. Quick to smile. Didn’t cuss or act like a fool. I still can’t believe someone murdered a guy like that. Craziest damn thing I ever heard.”

“What do you think?”

I glance over at Mona as I back out of my parking space. “I think Mr. Brooks is under the impression that his charm supersedes any suspicions a female LEO might have about his relationship with Samuel Yutzy.”

“You think he’s lying about something?”

“Probably not, but for my own peace of mind, I’d like to keep him simmering on a front burner for now.”

I call Skid as I pull onto the highway. “Where you at?”

“Just talked to the neighbor on the south side of the tree nursery.”

“Anything?”

“Nothing.”