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“Why is the FBI here?” asked Stuart. “I mean, don’t you people have anything better to do than investigate local murders? We have police to do that. Shouldn’t you be going after terrorists and the like?”
“We cover a lot of ground,” said Decker. “And we go where we’re told to go. So nothing else you can tell us about Cramer?”
Caroline Dawson said, “She lived in an apartment building. It wasn’t one of the nicer ones, but it was affordable.”
“But it’s also one of the few that your father doesn’t own, or at least we were told that,” Jamison pointed out. “So how did you know that she lived there?”
“I went there to drop off an offer to purchase the building this morning. Ida Simms, the manager, told me that she’d lived there.”
“So you’re looking to buy that building, huh?” said Stuart. “Why’s that? Your daddy’s been building like crazy the last two years.”
“Well, he can’t build fast enough to support all the people moving in to work atyourfracking operations,” retorted Dawson. “So we want to buy that building, rehab it, and then rent it out. It needs a lot of work.”
“And you’ll charge a nice premium for it when all is said and done,” commented Stuart.
“That’s sort of the point,” Dawson said. “But it’s also not cheap to rehab, and it’s really hard to find workers. Everyone wants to frack. It pays a lot.”
“That’s not my problem,” said Stuart.
“We built those other tract neighborhoods for your workers as fast as we could.”
Stuart laughed, pulled a short cigarillo from his pocket, and stuck it in his mouth unlit. “Your old man went cheap on the materials like he always does. I’ve had complaints from my workers. That’s why I’m starting to build my own.”
Dawson looked at him sternly. “If they have complaints, they should take them up with us, not you. We have an entire department that focuses solely on matters like that.”
Stuart rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure, I bet that’s a priority for you all.”
Dawson apparently had had enough. She looked at Decker and Jamison. “Well, I hope you find who you’re looking for. If you’ll excuse me.”
As she turned to leave, Shane called out, “Bye, Caroline. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
She didn’t look back but merely waved.
Decker noted that Stuart McClellan eyed her every step of the way.
After she was gone, Stuart said, “That girl has some issues. Anger issues.”
“She seemed perfectly reasonable to me,” said Jamison.
Shane said, “She works hard, Dad, you have to admit that.”
“Idoadmit that. And I wish you worked just as hard.”
“Well, work’s not everything in life.” Shane turned and gazed in the direction where Caroline had gone.
Stuart followed this and then stuck a finger in his son’s broad chest. “You work for your family. You work for me. Your loyalties lie there, son, no room for anything else. And if you make work everything in your life for a long enough time then you’ll find you have the means to do what you want when your work is done.” He glanced at Decker. “Do you not agree?”
“I think everybody’s different. So one-size advice doesn’t fit all.”
“Well, with that perspective it’s a wonder we ever liberated ourselves from the British or won World War II. I wish you luck with your investigation, and with that attitude I think you’re going to need all the luck you can get.”
He turned and strode off.
Shane looked at them sheepishly. “He . . . gets on his soapbox a lot.”
“I’m sure,” said Jamison.
“Nice meeting you,” said Shane, and then he hurried after his father.
