AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He shook his head and continued, “We’ve got to make some plans for this baby, and I mean beyond the crib and car seat. Call me. Please.” He tried to sound serious but nonthreatening, but all he wanted to do was swear or throw something or bang his head against a wall.
“God damn it,” he said softly into the empty room, looking out his window to the mass of dark clouds that had gathered. It had been dry all day for a change, but it looked like some serious precipitation was on the way. His mind flew to Savvy. Had she left Portland yet? He sure as hell hoped so.
The Rib-I was alive with tiny white lights twinkling around its eaves and windows, but it was still late afternoon, so apart from a few desultory trucks, an SUV, and three sedans, the parking lot was empty. The sun was long gone, and the gloom was pervasive, the sense of the heavens pressing down enough to make Savvy decide to find a motel as soon as she’d seen if DeWitt was here.
Stepping into the bar, she saw one man sitting at a table with an empty glass, a blank expression, and a cell phone lying in front of him. His hands were flat on the tabletop, as if he were getting ready to make a quick draw, but when he saw her, he reached for the cell phone, as if he expected her to take it.
There were other figures farther into the dim recesses beyond, but there was something about him—a self-imposed wall that said, “Back the hell off”—that suggested he might be her man.
“Mr. DeWitt?” she asked, approaching him.
“Who wants to know?” He stared at her belly.
“I’m Detective Dunbar with the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department.” She pulled her wallet from her messenger bag, flipped it open, and displayed her badge, not that he seemed to care.
His eyes slowly lifted to hers. They were as red and bleary as she would have expected, given what she knew about his habits. “Yeah?” He lurched forward in his chair. “Lemme see if I can guess why you’re here.”
“You know why, Mr. DeWitt.”
“Bankruptcy Bluff. Oh, sure. I know.” He waved the cell phone at her. “I just gotta make a call. My ride. Don’t wanna drive drunk.”
“Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Suit yourself.” He pressed the keys on his phone with serious concentration, then put it to his ear. It rang for long moments, and then Savannah heard the faint sound of someone’s voice, but DeWitt snapped the phone shut. He looked despondent and on the verge of surliness. “Fucking voice mail,” he muttered.
“You signed off on the stability of the dune. Said it was safe to build on. There have been reports—”
“Reports,” he sneered. “Oh, yeah. Reports.”
“From professional people who said the ground’s always been unstable, and they would have never green-lighted the area.”
“Monday morning quarterbacking.” He picked up his empty glass, then set it down again, looking around for the bartender. “They’re liars. Old man Bancroft wanted that development, and I gave it to him, sure. But they woulda done the same. It was within the parameters.”
Savannah had only a basic idea of the whole process, but his growing belligerence and defensive tone suggested he knew more than he was saying. Maybe he cut corners, or maybe those “parameters” were just a little too close to the edge.
“You’re saying Declan Bancroft pushed for the development.”
“He sure as hell did. And now that old bastard blames me for everything. And Hale,” he went on. “He wanted it, too.”
“Hale gave you the go-ahead?”
“They all wanted it,” he said, waving his arms expansively. “Whad do I gotta do to get a drink around here?” he yelled.
“Sober up,” was the bartender’s laconic reply.
“Well, fuck that.”
“Mr. DeWitt, I’m mainly investigating the Donatella homicides, and it may well be that the construction problems are the reason they were killed,” Savvy said.
“Nah . . . It was something else.”
A waitress strolled up to them, eyeing DeWitt cautiously, as if she expected him to jump up and grab her. “Would you like anything?” she asked Savannah.
“Get the rib eye,” DeWitt said before she could answer.
“Well . . .” Savannah debated.
The waitress made a face, as if she didn’t want to agree with DeWitt, but she admitted, “It’s what we’re known for.”
