Authors: Christy Evans
Lead-Pipe Cinch (25 page)
“I thought of that. But from the way Richard and Stan both talked I had the feeling Blake was the one holding the company together. Richard was better technically than Blake. Heck, he was better than me. But he was right about the clients.
“Richard doesn’t do that whole meet-and-greet thing, and he was never a salesman. Blake had the self-confidence and the charm to do both.”
He was certainly able to sell me, I added silently. I still didn’t believe Richard’s defense of Blake.
“In that case,” Wade said slowly, “what if someone from outside the company wanted to take over? With Blake out of the way, they might have a golden opportunity.”
I shook my head. “Blake was running the show. Without him, there wasn’t that much to take over, I don’t think. Just some technical talent, and they could be hired away. They wouldn’t have to kill Blake for that.”
My predawn drive to the airport caught up with me. I yawned so wide I felt like my jaw would crack open.
My eyelids were drooping, and I needed to sleep. I had to be at my best for the meeting with Chad McComb and Stan Fischer in the morning.
At the McComb job site. The Beetle was still sitting in Tiny’s parking lot, and I didn’t want to take the ’Vette out to the site. The mud and potholes of the access road were too unforgiving for my garage queen.
With a sigh I dragged my cell phone from my pocket. Stan’s hotel number was in the call log, and I punched up the number while I explained the situation to Wade and Sue.
They offered to go pick up the car, but I turned them down. Stan could pick me up, and he or Chad could drop me back in town after our meeting. There was no reason to put my friends out any more than they already were.
Besides, I didn’t trust anyone else with the Beetle’s aging automatic stick shift. Not many people knew how to operate one, and I didn’t want to try and explain it.
Stan answered and we made arrangements for him to pick me up at the house in the morning.
A few minutes later I shooed Wade and Sue out the door, with a promise that I wouldn’t do anything foolish without talking to them first.
It was an easy promise to make. I wasn’t likely to do anything foolish in bed, sound asleep.
chapter 27
There was much to be said for riding in Stan’s rented Lincoln. For starters, the heater worked. The Beetle heater was marginal at best, and some days it didn’t actually warm up until I’d reached my destination.
“I owe you an apology, Georgie Girl,” Stan said as we cruised out of town on the highway. “I’m afraid I might have spilled the beans about you and Blake to the sheriff.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said, glancing at me then turning his gaze back to the road. “But when I told him you two had been pretty serious he was mighty interested.”
He glanced back at me again, but I kept my eyes straight ahead. He couldn’t have told the sheriff anything I hadn’t already divulged. He didn’t know anything else to tell.
“Course I told him it was all ancient history, and Blake had a couple girlfriends since then. Moved on and all that.”
This was news to me. Richard hadn’t said anything about another girlfriend. If anything, he had implied that Blake still carried the torch for months after I left. I wondered why the two men had such different opinions of Blake’s reaction. Maybe because Richard projected his feelings onto Blake?
“It’s not a problem, Stan. I’d already told him about Blake and me.”
I guided Stan through the tangle of unmarked roads that wandered through the undeveloped area outside Pine Ridge and led to the McComb site. The Lincoln glided up the final grade with minimal effort from the hefty V-8 under the hood.
Chad McComb’s Range Rover was already parked in the gravel lot at the top of the grade. We climbed out of the car and walked over to where Chad stood surveying the abandoned-looking construction site.
A shiver passed over me as I realized no one had been back to the site since Blake Weston had been killed. Work stopped the night before Blake’s death, and had never resumed.
Chad greeted Stan and me. He didn’t ask, but I could see the question in his eyes. What was one of the plumbers doing out here with his security consultant?
Stan caught the look, too. “Mr. McComb, I’d like you to meet Georgiana Neverall.”
Chad looked puzzled. “I know Georgie. She’s been working on this project since the beginning. Barry Hickey says she’s one of his best workers.”
“Ah, yes.” Stan grinned. “You know Georgie, the plumber. But do you know Georgiana, the security expert?”
Chad shot me a look, and I felt the color climb up my neck and spread across my face. Chad’s eyes widened.
“I used to work for Stan, before I moved back to Pine Ridge,” I acknowledged, hoping Stan would let me leave it at that.
“One of the best in the business,” Stan said expansively. “I’m trying to convince her to come back. She may be a good worker for Mr. Hickey, but she’s wasting her talent digging ditches.” He nodded toward the moat. “She’s promised to help with the initial appraisal, at least until I can get a replacement up here for Mr. Weston.”
Chad glanced at the moat when Stan mentioned Blake’s name. “My condolences again on your loss, Mr. Fischer. And you, Georgie. You knew him, didn’t you? I remember him talking to you in Tiny’s that first night he was here.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“We worked together a long time ago,” I said. I smiled to soften the words, and quickly moved away from the topic of the late Mr. Weston.
“Tell me about the plans, Mr. McComb.”
“Georgie, it’s Chad, remember?”
I nodded. “I’ve seen some of the plans, and I managed to look over the few notes Mr. Weston had already provided to Stan. But why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for?”
Just as I expected, Chad McComb had plans for an elaborate computer installation. The entire castle would be wired for high-speed Internet access, there were redundant backup systems, and a direct line to his old employer for especially sensitive data.
“So, not completely retired, huh?” I teased.
Chad colored, but he smiled sheepishly. “It’s hard to let go,” he said. “I love what I do—did—and they still ask for my advice now and then. Lets me keep a finger in the pie, so to speak.”
“I know what you mean, McComb,” Stan boomed. “They put me on the board of directors, but I still get an itch to get my hands dirty.”
“I’m going to take a look around.” I glanced at Chad. “Just to get a feel for how this fits in with the rest of the project. I’m familiar with some of it, but I’d like a little time to study the site.”
Stan waved a hand at me. “Go on, look at whatever it is you need to. I’ll just have me a little talk with Chad here about the details of the contract.”
I was obviously dismissed while the two men talked about money. I knew from Richard that Stan and Samurai were looking for more than a single contract. They were looking for an open checkbook and deep pockets to solve their cash flow problem.
I silently wished Stan luck and strolled away, notebook in hand, to scout the site. From the way he focused his attention on Chad, it was clear he was the big fish Richard had been talking about.
It took me the better part of an hour to walk the site and make note of the things we would need to do for the security installation. Just like the other utilities, several access cables would need to come in under the moat.
It looked like I would have to dig up the moat, again, to bury more conduit. I sighed. Why couldn’t they get this organized so we could do it once and be done with it?
Each time I stopped to make a note, I glanced back to Chad and Stan. The two stood in the middle of what would eventually be the central courtyard, and Chad was talking animatedly, often gesturing with sweeping movements of his arms.
I had seen him like this on other occasions, when he’d come to the site with a visitor. He was describing the castle for Stan, who listened with a big show of interest.
I was sure Stan didn’t give a hoot about Chad’s castle. But he’d be as interested and impressed as he had to be to get at Chad’s checkbook.
It was why he was here instead of Richard, or one of the other tech guys. And it was why I was here getting a handsome consulting fee to do the real work of laying out the system.
I remembered the credit card bill that would show up soon, and went back to making notes.
A week ago I had watched Blake walking around the site with Chad, and thought that this was a job I would have done in a heartbeat. And now I was doing the job, falling right back into the routines and procedures that had made me, as Stan said, one of the best.
Did I miss this? Was I fooling myself that I wanted to be a plumber? I was already designing the system in my head even though I knew I would have to catch up on current technology. I was configuring hardware and applications that would safeguard the data Chad would pipe into the castle—and I was enjoying it.
Was I getting sucked back into the life I swore I’d left behind? More important, did I want to get sucked back in?
I brushed aside the questions. For now, I was simply earning my fee. Nothing more.
I was a plumber. An apprentice, granted, but the time was coming when I would take my exams and have my certification. This was my new life, and it was where I belonged.
I rejoined Stan and Chad McComb. Stan didn’t look happy.
Chad McComb hadn’t become rich by being a push-over. Sure he’d been in the right place, in the right industry, at just the right time. But he was no one’s fool, and it looked like Stan had underestimated just how shrewd Chad could be.
It must have been an interesting conversation.
Stan was preoccupied on the ride back to town, and I left him alone with his thoughts. I had plenty of my own to worry about.
I gave him directions back to town, though he didn’t seem to need them. I had never actually ridden with him before, and I was impressed with his recall of the route—he didn’t even glance at the fancy GPS system. Occasionally he would confirm a turn before he made it, but I could tell he didn’t need to.
When he pulled into the lot at Tiny’s he suggested we have lunch at Dee’s, but I declined. “I need to get these notes together for whoever is taking over the project, Stan. You will have someone up here soon, won’t you?”
He shook his head. “Are you sure you won’t do it, Georgie? I really could use you.”
“I’m sure.” I opened the door and fished the key to the Beetle out of my pocket.
I wasn’t having this conversation again. With anyone. Tomorrow morning I would be back in the bottom of the moat, putting in another piece of conduit for the security system. I could hardly wait to hear Barry’s reaction when I told him we’d have to dig again. He’d be almost as happy as I was.
“Georgie?”
“Not a chance, Stan.”
I closed the door on Stan and his pleas.
The Beetle was cold, and it took a few minutes to clear the windshield enough to drive. My stomach growled and I glanced at my watch. It was only a little after eleven, but maybe I could persuade Wade to take an early lunch.
I drove the few blocks to Wade’s office, hunched over the steering wheel so I could see out of the mostly clear portion of the windshield closest to the defroster vent.
Wade was at his desk, papers spread across the credenza behind him. A fat book was open on the side of the desk, and he was making notes on a pad in front of him.
A smile spread across his face when I walked in. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Hi, yourself. You have time for an early lunch?”
He glanced up at the clock. “In a couple minutes. Just let me finish checking this tax citation.”
He went back to his book without waiting for an answer.
I sat for a few seconds in his visitor chair, but was soon on my feet, prowling the office. There was a second desk where his secretary used to work. She had quit a couple years ago to get married and move to Omaha, and he had never missed her enough to replace her.
I sat at the desk and opened my laptop. I could begin organizing my notes while I was waiting.
The laptop booted, and flashed a message. “Wireless network available.”
Curious, I launched the wireless connection screen. There were a couple of networks within range.
One of them was Wade’s office LAN. He didn’t need a network, since there was only one computer in the office, as far as I knew. But there it was, waiting for me to click on the icon and connect to the files that held all the financial information for Whitlock Estates. And Gregory. And my mother.
All there for the taking.
I clicked on the connection, and was relieved to see that at least it was password-protected. It wasn’t just open for anyone with a wireless card to tap into.
But I was a computer security expert, and even though I was rusty I was sure I could defeat the relatively unsophisticated level of protection that would be on Wade’s system.
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