Moss Hysteria (6 page)

“Sure, to all of us in Brandywine. That doesn't mean Dirk didn't push Rye until he snapped. We all have our breaking points, right?” She glanced over her shoulder at Theda's house. “But there's the person I'd watch.”

“Theda?”

Mitzi nodded. “She may seem harmless, but don't be fooled by her act.”

“What act is that?”

A pickup truck turned into the driveway. Mitzi waved to the driver then said, “Just be careful. Don't believe everything Theda says.” Then she trotted up to the truck to give Rye a hug and kiss on the cheek before hurrying up the sidewalk toward her house.

I glanced back at Theda's window and saw the curtain drop.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Salvare.” Rye gave me a sheepish smile as he ran his palm over his cheek. “Mitzi always does that. If I forget to wipe off the lipstick, my wife gets all bent out of shape.”

I detected that twang Theda had mentioned. “Mitzi certainly is friendly,” I said.

He gave a light laugh. “Yes, ma'am. You could say that.”

Rye Bishop was a stocky younger man of average height. As Mitzi had described, he wore a gray hooded sweatshirt, baggy jeans, and dirty white sneakers. Today the hood was down and a black White Sox baseball cap was on his head backward.

“This may seem like an odd question,” I said, “but is that always how you wear your cap?”

He looked up, then felt his head and removed his cap, revealing a thatch of short brown hair underneath. “I'm sorry. My mama taught me to take off my hat in the presence of a lady.”

“No, that's fine. I just wondered if you always wear it backward.”

“Just sometimes,” he said. “I can turn it around if you find it offensive.”

“No, please. I don't mind.”

Holding his cap, he said, “I understand your floor is damaged.”

“I'm afraid it is. Come inside and see.”

I called down to Marco in the basement to let him know Rye was there, then took Rye to the dining room and showed him the floor in front of the sliding glass door. He got down on his knees to examine it, then used a screwdriver to take off the metal threshold and look beneath. “You've got water damage,” he said, as Marco joined us. “Looks like your door might have been standing open during a storm.”

“That doesn't make sense,” Marco said. “Wouldn't the workmen notice?”

“If they were here when the rain started,” Rye said. “My guess is that it was open when they quit and the rain came in later.”

My floor was damaged because of a worker's carelessness? That started my temper rising. “Shouldn't someone check the houses at the end of the day?”

Rye put the threshold back and stood up. “Yep.”

Marco was annoyed now. “Then why wasn't it checked?”

Rye twisted his cap in his hands. “I can't say for sure.”

“Whose responsibility is it?” I asked.

“When your house was built, it was Dirk's. Now it's mine.”

“I hope you're doing a better job than he was,” I said.

“Yes, ma'am. I check every house under construction before I leave for the day.”

“What can be done about the damage here?” said Marco.

“This whole section around the door will have to be removed and new wood put in, maybe the subfloor, too, depending on how far down the water traveled. If you want my opinion, I'd ask for a whole new floor. You'll never get a perfect match to this floor color otherwise.”

“Will you relay that to Thorne for us?” Marco asked.

Rye used his thumb to scratch his head, looking doubtful. “I sure will try.”

“You don't sound too confident,” I said.

He gave us an apologetic look. “I know from experience Mr. Thorne is just gonna tell me to have the flooring contractor replace this area only. A whole new floor would cost him a lot of money.”

“I understand, but unfortunately, that's his problem,” Marco said. “Tell Thorne we expect a new floor.”

“Yes, sir, I'll tell him what you said first thing in the morning when I report in. Is there anything else you need while I'm here?”

“Yes, there is,” I said. “We want to pick your brain about something. Would you like a beer or an iced tea?”

“A glass of sweet tea, if you'd be so kind.”

I headed toward the kitchen. “Have a seat. I was about to have lunch, so would you like a sandwich? We have turkey and cheese.”

“No, thank you, ma'am. I already ate. But you both go ahead. I know you've got businesses to get back to.”

I poured glasses for all of us, found some sugar packets for Rye, and put everything on the table.

“What can I do for you?” Rye asked, placing his baseball cap in his lap.

“We're investigating Dirk Singletary's death,” Marco said. “We'd like to get your input on it.”

His friendly smile dissolved, his expression turning guarded. “I'm afraid I can't help you there. I don't know anything except what I read in the newspaper.”

“That's okay,” Marco said, folding his hands on the table. “People often know things they don't realize they know. For instance, we were told there was friction between Dirk and Brandon Thorne. Would that be your assessment, too?”

Rye shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything. I just don't feel right talking about my boss. I hope you understand where I'm coming from.”

“No problem,” Marco said. “I'd like to think my employees would be that loyal. How about the Brandywine residents? Any problems between Dirk and any of them?”

“Just the ones who had things stolen. They're pretty angry about it.”

I brought my notebook and a pen to the table. “Would you give me their names?”

After I'd finished writing, Marco asked, “Is it your impression that most people believe Dirk is guilty of those thefts?”

“Yes, sir. Everyone I've talked to believes he's the thief.”

“I know Mitzi Kole is one of them,” I said.

Rye chortled softly as though laughing at a private joke. “Yep, she's one of them.”

His reaction was revealing, but I had a feeling he wouldn't be as forthcoming with his words. So I looked him in the eye and said, “So you're aware they were having an affair?”

R
ye seemed shocked by my question so Marco jumped in. “What my wife means to say is that we've heard rumors about the two of them. We wondered whether they were true.”

Rye ran his hands over his thatch of hair, distinctly uncomfortable with the question. “I don't want to answer that, Mr. Salvare, because I don't know for certain.”

“Fair enough. Would you verify that Dirk was in Mitzi's house the day before she reported her jewelry missing?”

He ducked his head, using his thumb to scratch between his eyes. “I guess it's okay to tell you since I already told the detective. Yes, Dirk was at her house the day before Mrs. Kole called the police.”

“Was he in Mitzi's home alone?” I asked.

Rye just kept scratching his forehead, clearly a signal that he didn't want to answer, so I tried again. “Was Mitzi
there
while Dirk was working?”

After a long hesitation he said, “All I know for sure is that her Jaguar was in the garage while his truck was in the driveway.”

I glanced at Marco and raised my eyebrows.

“Thanks for your candor,” Marco said.

Rye glanced at his watch. “I should get going. I've got another appointment.”

“Just a few more quick questions, if you don't mind,” Marco said. “You mentioned something earlier about checking the houses at the end of the day being your responsibility now. Does that mean you've been promoted?”

“I applied for it.”

“Is it true that Dirk kept you from being promoted before?” I asked.

“Yes, ma'am. Dirk took a disliking to me for some reason.”

“I'm sure you've been through this with the police,” Marco said, “but would you mind telling us what you were doing Friday afternoon and evening?”

“I was caulking and painting at the model home on Friday afternoon. I left at four like usual and headed home.”

“Did anyone see you at the model?”

“No, sir. I was there alone.”

“Was your truck out front or in the driveway?”

“Neither. I walked over from the office.”

“Where was Dirk while you were there?”

“I don't have a clue. I spoke briefly with him before he went out for lunch and never saw him again.”

“Was it unusual for you not to see him all afternoon?”

“Not at all. We often worked separately. And Dirk kept odd hours. Sometimes he'd get there at ten in the morning instead of at seven like everyone else. Or he'd be gone by three. I never knew what times he'd be there from one day to the next.”

“Was that allowed?” I asked.

Rye shrugged. “I don't know if Mr. Thorne was aware of it. Dirk was always on time on the day the boss was due to stop in.”

Stealing from residents, slacking on the job, humiliating coworkers—Dirk Singletary sounded like a real piece of work. It made me wonder what kind of husband and father he'd been. “What time did you arrive home on Friday, Rye?”

“It takes me forty-five minutes, so about five o'clock.”

“Anyone there who can back you up?” Marco asked.

“No, sir. My wife doesn't get home until ten o'clock—she works evenings part-time—and my boys play sports after school.”

I wrote everything down and put an asterisk beside it to indicate an area to explore. Rye had no way to verify his alibi.

He began to twist his baseball cap in his hands. “Look, if this is your way of trying to find out whether I killed Dirk, I can tell you I didn't particularly care for the way the guy treated me, but I wouldn't have killed him. I've got a large family to support, and I can't do that from prison. If you want to know the truth, I've been shopping for another job. I don't want that to get back to Mr. Thorne, though.”

“Everything you tell us is confidential,” I said.

He let out a breath. “Thank you.”

“Other than the robbery victims,” Marco said, “can you think of anyone in Brandywine who might have had an intense dislike for Dirk?”

Rye picked up his glass and took a slow drink of tea as he pondered it. “Not
in
Brandywine,” he said at last. “Just kind of associated with it.”

“I need a name,” Marco said.

Without hesitation Rye said, “Maynard Dell.”

That name sounded familiar but I couldn't place it. Marco, however, identified him instantly. “The town's building inspector? Why did he dislike Dirk?”

“It was more of a mutual dislike.”

“Based on what?”

“I shouldn't really be telling you this, but”—Rye leaned in and dropped his voice, as though afraid of being overheard—“some of the houses here? Dirk said they shouldn't have passed inspection. Their wiring isn't up to code.”

“Then why did they pass?” Marco asked.

“You know how the inspector checks wiring? He sticks one of them juice detectors in the electrical outlet to see if it lights up. If it does, it passes inspection. Then there's his fondness for long liquid lunches. Kind of hard to work after one of those.”

“He drinks
during
working hours?” I asked as I wrote.

Rye held up his hands, palms out. “I'm only repeating what Dirk told me. It really bugged him that Maynard was earning good money and getting great benefits for slipshod work just because he knew someone on the town council. A patronage job, Dirk called it. Boy, he hated that.”

“So do I,” I said. “Doesn't that irk you, too?”

Rye shrugged again, but this time I caught glimmers of anger in his brown eyes. “I care about the people here. I hope it isn't true, because I don't want anything bad to happen to anyone 'cause their house isn't safe.”

“Does that include our house?” I asked.

“Like I said, this was what Dirk told me. But if I were you, I'd hire an electrician you trust to inspect your wiring.”

I glanced around the room, half expecting to see sparks coming from the kitchen's recessed lights. “What happens if the wiring is faulty?”

“It could cause a fire.” Rye shrugged, glancing up at the brushed nickel light fixture overhead. “You'd have to rip it all out to fix it.”

Rip my walls apart? I was seeing red, and it wasn't from imaginary flames. “What kind of electrician did Brandon Thorne hire?”

“Whoever put in the lowest bid.”

I could feel my temper bubbling up fast, but I wasn't sure who to be angriest with, the developer or Maynard Dell. “So if our house catches fire, shouldn't Maynard Dell and the town of New Chapel be responsible?”

Rye nodded, his head bowed as though admitting it embarrassed him. And yet I thought I detected a slight smugness in his expression that made me suspect he was enjoying ratting Maynard out.

Marco said, “Once Dirk knew this was going on, what did he do?”

“He said he was gonna have a talk with Maynard.”

“Did he report it to Thorne?”

Rye shrugged.

“Did that talk between Dirk and Maynard happen?” Marco asked.

“Yeah. It happened. I was working at a house over on Thorneapple when Maynard came by, and was he pissed. ‘You see I'm doin' my job, don't you?' he asked me. ‘If I get fired 'cause of Dirk, I'll kill that sumbitch with my bare hands.'”

Marco looked at me, and I said, “Got it,” as I scribbled it down.

•   •   •

After Rye left, I took our glasses to the sink, setting them down with a bang. “When is our appointment with Brandon Thorne? If he's not aware of this deplorable situation with the building inspector, he will be. And he should pay for an electrician to come check our house, too. And while we're at it, we can demand a new floor.”

Marco scooped up the sugar and napkins and brought them over. “Hold on a minute, Sunshine. Let's keep our building issues separate from the investigation or we won't get anywhere with the man.”

I rinsed the glasses and put them in the dishwasher, trying to calm down. “Sorry. My Irish is showing.”

“Good thing we Italians are so even-tempered.”

I couldn't help but laugh at that. I slipped my arms around his waist and smiled up at him. “Yes, it is a good thing. I just wish Rye weren't so convinced that Brandon won't give us a new floor.”

“To be honest, I'm surprised we didn't notice the floor damage when we did our pre-closing walk.”

“I
did
notice, Marco. I told Dirk it looked odd. But it was evening, and Dirk told me it was just the way the lamplight was hitting the surface. It didn't even cross my mind to get down and feel it. And he kept moving, so I moved with him.”

“Where was I during this conversation?”

“You took Seedy outside. Where is she, by the way?”

“Out back on her leash. She loves that yard so much I couldn't get her to come inside. We sure picked the right place for her.”

With a sigh I said, “I thought it was right for us, too.”

“We'll make it right, sweetheart. Don't worry.”

I lay my head on his shoulder and let his warmth and confidence soak in as he rubbed my back. Marco was an expert at making things better.

He kissed the top of my head. “Let's sit down for a few minutes and go over Rye's information while it's still fresh.”

I gave him a kiss and then we sat at the table again.

“What's your impression of Rye?” he asked.

“He came across as nice as everyone says he is. He seemed to genuinely not want to say anything bad about anyone here, including his boss. In this day and age, that's unusually magnanimous.”

“I agree. He struck me as a salt-of-the-earth kind of guy, reluctant to talk negatively about anyone until he brought up—”

“Maynard Dell. I caught that, too. Rye was more than willing to share everything he knew about Maynard. To tell you the truth, Marco, I almost felt like he enjoyed dishing the dirt on him.”

“The question is, did Rye share that knowledge to divert suspicion away from himself or because he's sincerely concerned about the residents here?”

“I didn't get a bad feeling about Rye, but I do see a motive, albeit a weak one.”

“To get the promotion he's been denied?”

I gave Marco a high five. “We're on the same page, Salvare. So not only was Dirk humiliating Rye in front of the residents, but he was also keeping Rye from moving up in the company. On Rye's behalf, however, he didn't seem too certain he'd get the promotion even with Dirk gone. We should ask Thorne about that.”

“Add it to our list of questions.”

I turned to a fresh page and titled it “Brandon Thorne Interview
.
” “I want to be there when you interview Maynard Dell, Marco. Boy, do I want to be there. I've really got a bone to pick with that man. Actually, let's write to the mayor about him, too. And the town council. They need to know what kind of guy they hired.”

“One thing at a time, Abby. Our focus for now is the murder. If what Rye told us checks out, Maynard will go on the suspect list.”

“How are you going to check him out?”

“I've got an electrician coming in to do some new lighting around the bar. He's a knowledgeable guy. If there's any scuttlebutt on Maynard Dell, he'll know it.”

“Be sure he comes out to inspect our house, too.”

“I'm on it. Anything else on Rye?”

“No, let's move on to Brandon Thorne. You're not going to believe this, but he doesn't bond his employees or do background checks on them.”

“How did you find out?”

“Mitzi Kole. According to what Detective Wells told her, if Thorne had done a background check on Dirk, he wouldn't have hired him, thus Dirk wouldn't have been around to steal from the residents.”

“Did Dirk have a criminal history?”

“All Mitzi said was that at his previous places of employment, complaints were filed but charges were never brought.”

Seedy scratched on the sliding glass door so Marco went to let her in. He unhooked her leash and she headed for the kitchen, then paused halfway, sniffed the air, and then began to growl, sinking low to the ground as though she were in danger.

I crouched down beside her and began to stroke her fur. “What is it, Seedy?”

“Maybe she smelled a stranger in the house.” Marco put water in her bowl and called her. Seedy glanced around the room, as though making sure no one else was there, then moved cautiously toward him. “What else did you learn from Mitzi?”

“She claims she was
not
at home when Dirk came in to fix her walls. She said he let himself in and was gone when she got back, which contradicts Rye's story.”

Marco leaned against the island, his arms folded over his chest. “Whose story do you believe?”

“At this point, Rye's. Mitzi has a much stronger motive, although she downplays it. You know how people ramble and shift attention onto others when they're feeling guilty? That was Mitzi after I suggested she had a good reason to be angry at Dirk.”