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“Then tell me what I want to hear and you can take your shriveled carcass out of here.”
The elderly gentleman pulled his towel tightly around his wizened frame and took another shallow gulp of fog before speaking. “We agreed to condemn the Cummings house. But before the building is razed, she has to be given an opportunity to make repairs. State law.” He settled back against the wall and panted, his face a shade of violet so close to blue, death would barely alter it.
The bank manager, the man whose lips were always in close proximity to Ash’s butt, spoke. “We turned down her loan application.”
“Good.” Ash pressed the tips of his blunt fingers together as if deciding on his next chess move. “Has she been given an eviction notice?”
Chief of police Willy Parks pressed a towel to his face. “Process server got her in the market just the other day.” The former high school jock and longtime chum of Ash’s moved his towel to the current of sweat running down his thick neck. He leisurely dabbed the drops of perspiration beading on a shaggy matting of chest hair. “She’s only got thirty days to complete the repairs and we hit her hard.”
The building inspector nodded. “She’d have to come up with a ton of money to fix up the place.”
Ash smiled his victory. “Excellent. Boys, you’ve made my day.” He turned to the elderly board member who sat wilted against the sauna’s teak wall. “Christ, get the hell out of here before you have a stroke.”
“Thank you, Ash,” the little man said as he skittered away.
The building inspector chimed in. Despite the sweltering vapor, he looked pale—the messenger about to be killed. “You may still have a problem. I stopped by your development yesterday. When I passed the Cummings’ place, I saw some guy up on her roof. He had a compressor revved up and was shooting nails into the roof like he was a house on fire.”
Ash fixed his eyes into such an angry stare, he never blinked when salty beads of sweat leaked into them. “Did you ask to see his contractor’s license?”
“You don’t have to be licensed in New York.”
“What about a permit?”
“You only need one for new construction or additions.”
Ash stood and walked the steam room in the slow trudge of an ogre stomping everything in its path. “I’ve got every damned contractor in the area working on my club. Who the hell is this guy?”
“I don’t think he’s from around here,” the inspector said. “Something familiar about him though.”
“Well. Do you know him or not?”
The building inspector tapped his hands against the wooden bench, then snapped sweaty fingers together though they made no sound. “The movies!”
“You saw him at the movies?”
“No. I saw himinthe movie. The guy fixing the Cummings house looked like the actor in the movie.”
“God damn that son of a bitch.” Ash cursed in a voice final and condemning. “He’s going to be one sorry bastard if he continues stepping on my toes.”
****
An hour later, Ash was in his construction trailer, one hand steadily slapping against his desk. Willy Parks stepped through the narrow doorway, and a clamor of noise accompanied him—the roar of compressors, steady thwap of nail guns, and the strident cry of power saws slicing through lumber. Yards away, similar sounds indicated another project.
“This is my town, and no one crosses me. That guy is either a ballsy son of a bitch, or just plain stupid. What did you find out about him?”
Willy stepped around a small table stacked high with brochures and dropped into the swivel chair across from Ash’s desk. “I snuck around back. There’s a brand new pick-up loaded with equipment in the yard. I ran the plate. Truck’s registered to a limousine company in Brooklyn.”
Ash snorted. “Brooklyn? That redneck doesn’t strike me as a guy from Brooklyn…or someone who’s ever seen the inside of a limo.”
Leaning back in the chair, Willy stroked his jaw. “Could be a scam artist. Guys hit up small towns pretending to look for work. They get their marks to pay for equipment, make a few repairs, and then disappear with a whole lot of gear to hock. Seniors are the easiest targets.”
Ash nodded at the chief’s suggestion. “You might be on to something. Anyone can file for an LLC, and the limo company could be a front.” He stabbed a finger onto his desk blotter. “But if it isn’t, I still have a problem. I want you to find out who the guy is. I also want you to find out what his relationship is with Jenna Black. Something about the two of them doesn’t add up.”
****
Day-drinking was not an activity Jenna had ever mastered. She sat behind her counter close to nodding off. From tip to toe Eric lingered—a sweep of sun-streaked hair, worn jeans snug over taut thighs, broad shoulders, and as always, his crystal blue eyes glowing in the afternoon sun. If she were to fall asleep in her chair he’d slip into her dreams.
The door to the shop opened and Ash walked in. “I don’t suppose you expected to see me again so soon.” His ready smile and words seemed a forced spill of charm.
