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“Figures,” he breathed. “He cost the company a lot of money, and I don’t have to tell you that’s a real black mark on my reputation as well as Hale’s.” His lips tightened with repressed fury. “DeWitt’s an incompetent ass who really sold Declan Bancroft a bill of goods.”
Savannah could have told him Declan Bancroft would agree with him 100 percent, but she said instead, “Do you know where I could find Mr. DeWitt?”
“You mean besides in a bottle at the Rib-I?”
“What’s the Rib-I?”
“A steak house and bar. The one that had the double
murder the other night. DeWitt was probably there when it happened. You should ask him. It’s not too far up on Sandy.” He waved an arm in a general direction east, toward Sandy Boulevard, a major artery on the eastside of Portland.
Double murder? Like at Bancroft Bluff? Savannah hadn’t seen the news in the past twenty-four hours or so and realized she was behind the times. “It’s not even nine yet.”
“They serve steak burritos and make-your-own Bloody Marys on the weekends. He’s there.”
“Okay.”
She gave him her card, and he returned the favor. She left the office, wondering if she should stop by the steak house on the way to the job site but deciding against it. Russo was expecting her, if Hale had called him, like he’d said he would, and she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to talk to him, anyway. By the sounds of it, DeWitt might still be at the Rib-I later today, anyway.
She put in a call to Lang and got his voice mail. It was Saturday, she reminded herself. At the beep, she said, “Hey, I just heard about a double homicide at the Rib-I restaurant in Portland. It’s a place DeWitt, the engineer who okayed building on the dune, frequents. Have you talked to Curtis about it? I’m in Portland and thought about going over there to see if I can find DeWitt.” Detective Trey Curtis of the Portland Police Department was a longtime friend of Lang’s, their relationship having started when Lang was with the PPD, before he joined the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department.
Ten minutes later Lang texted her back. A man and a woman killed Thursday night in parking lot. Throats slit. Looks like they were having sex in his truck when he got them. That’s DeWitt’s bar?
Savannah grimaced at the thought of the new homicides. She texted: Yep. I’ll try to see him before I head back.
Lang answered: I’ll let Curtis know.
With a glance out the window to the sky, which was high and gray, she turned south toward the bedroom community of Lake Chinook.
CHAPTER 12
The Lake Chinook job site was at the end of a broken asphalt drive, the result of too many construction vehicles breaking the pavement down with heavy loads. The road opened onto a headland with a spectacular view of the green lake far below. Concrete footings for three separate residences had been poured and were still surrounded by their plywood forms. The house farthest west was the furthest along; it was framed, sided, and rough plumbed, and looked to be in the process of rough electrical, but there was a red work-stoppage notice flapping in the wind. Construction had been red tagged, and the group of men standing just inside the framed house’s open doorway seemed to be discussing the situation with barely concealed ire.
The rain had stopped, and the temperature was dropping. Savvy had traded in her raincoat for the dark blue ski jacket, and now she stepped carefully over chunks of two-by-fours and crumbling asphalt as she made her way to their group. An attractive silver-haired man saw her first and stopped talking midsentence. The taller, lankier man looked over at her. His long dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, and his eyes seemed penetrating, even from this distance. The third man, who she guessed was the building inspector, barely glanced at her as he said, “You’re over a couple of inches, and until you fix it, I can’t sign off.” Unlike the first two, he was heavyset, his features were close set, and his face pinched. He looked like the epitome of a government employee with a chip on his shoulder.
“I’ll take care of it,” the silver-haired man said tersely. He was lean and hard, and his eyes were as dark as midnight. As the inspector walked toward his truck, he stood in the doorway with his hands planted on his hips and waited for Savannah to approach. “Clark Russo,” he said, holding out a hand.
“Detective Dunbar,” she greeted him.
“Ah, yes. You decided to brave the elements and stray from your jurisdiction. This is Neil Vledich, our foreman.” Savannah shook hands with Vledich, whose ponytail was a dark sable brown and whose eyes were a brilliant blue. Russo said, as if Savvy had asked a question, “The upper deck on this house is outside the twenty-five percent footprint, all that we’re allowed to build on a lot in this damn town. We’re going to have to cut it back to make it fit in.”
“First, it was the trees,” Vledich said as Savvy pulled out her notebook.
“We cut more trees down than the neighbors wanted,” Russo explained. “It was within city code, but there was a lot of noise, and they started complaining. Just been one delay after another. Give me Portland any day.” He shook his head and seemed to mentally dust off his hands. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m doing a follow-up on the Donatella homicides at Bancroft Bluff. . . .” She trailed off at his rapid nodding.
“Right. Hale said as much. I worked that project. Neil didn’t. He was here. What do you want to know?”
Before she could answer, Vledich put in, “A lot of people said they shouldn’t build there, but he ignored them.”
“He?” Savannah asked.
“DeWitt,” Russo answered. “If that guy were on the Titanic, he’d swear they hadn’t hit an iceberg rather than admit he was wrong. He still stands by his original assessment. Meanwhile, the whole damn dune’s falling into the sea.”
“I ran into Sean Ingles in your office, and he said that Mr. DeWitt could be found at a local bar,” Savannah said.
“Oh, he’s a big drinker, all right,” Russo answered. “Since the Bancroft Bluff debacle, he’s an even bigger drinker.” He motioned Savannah inside the framed house, to a hearth that was just the concrete blocks at the moment; the tile or granite or whatever medium they’d chosen to cover the blocks wasn’t there yet. Vledich went outside, and through the open doorway Savvy could see him break out a pack of cigarettes and light up.
