Harrison cash account so he could make payroll. Why do you think I’m personally on his trail?”
“Well you’re going to have no choice but to put up what cash you can, then go after Farrell’s bid bond. I’ll take care of the bond issue from here in my office tomorrow.”
He didn’t say anything for a second or two. But I got the feeling there was something else on his mind.
“It’s too late now, Spike,” he said, “but you should not have left the jobsite for any reason.”
Joel was right. Dad taught me better than that. By being absent, I’d only made it look like I had something to hide. I tried to put myself in the shoes of all the PS 20 mothers. I wasn’t a mother myself. But I knew they’d be worried sick about their children.
“One more thing,” he said. “Keep in mind if one of those kids or faculty members should start screaming cancer, you’re going to find yourself in more trouble than you ever thought possible.”
My sternum went tight at the thought of a sick child. I decided to put it out of my mind the best I could.
“What do you want me to do with the shell casing? And what about the other stuff…the chewing tobacco tin and the Thatcher Street business card?”
“Don’t touch it more than you have. Pack it up and drop it off at my office. We got a real missing person’s case or, God forbid, a homicide, the cops will want to confiscate it all.”
“So what do you suggest I do now?” I said, voice betraying me by cracking mid-sentence.
“Like I’ve been trying to tell you,” Joel said. “Lay low and do right thing.”
“Listen, there’s a hold on my petty cash account.”
Joel sighed. He was a big man who was good at big sighs.
“My guess is the school has placed a lien on your accounts pending rectification of the asbestos contamination.”
“They want their money back is what they want Joel.”
“They’re simply trying to protect themselves. I’ll see about bonding the liens tomorrow morning after I go after Farrell’s bid bond.”
“What do I do for money in the meantime?”
“Use your personal checking account.”
“All thirty-five cents of it?”
What I didn’t have the guts to tell Joel was that lately, I’d been using the Harrison cash accounts as my own personal accounts.
“You must have credit cards.”
“Harrison Construction AMEX,” I said, knowing I had maybe a grand left on it before it was maxed out.
“Just use that,” Joel said. “Pay it off later.”
With what? I wanted to say.
I hung up, retrieved my briefcase from the Jeep, headed for my apartment which was located appropriately enough, in the basement.
Chapter 20
I made my way into my bedroom. From out of my pocket I pulled out the misspelled “Closed Untill Further Notice” note with the odd sketch on the back. I set it, along with my briefcase on the desktop. I turned on the laptop. While I waited for it to boot up, I touched my lips with the tips of my two fingers, pressed them to Jordan’s mouth—the Jordan that appeared for me in the framed black and white studio headshot I kept of him directly beside my computer.
I went into the kitchen, grabbed a cold bottle of beer, brought it back into the bedroom with me. I sat down at the desk, logged onto the Harrison Construction website and typed in the password that accessed my email. The new emails fell one by one into a vertical column like rapidly stacked bricks. There had to be thirty or more new messages, most of them from the Tiger Lady.
It had been one hell of a long Monday. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d accomplished anything. Maybe I wasn’t any closer to finding Farrell, but I was a little closer to finding out what happened to him.
I opened the briefcase, pulled out all the items I’d collected at the public fishing access site. I picked up the spent shell casing, took a good look at the back rim where the pin had left its indentation mark.
Winchester .9mm rounds, 362 grains.
“Well you’re going to have no choice but to put up what cash you can, then go after Farrell’s bid bond. I’ll take care of the bond issue from here in my office tomorrow.”
He didn’t say anything for a second or two. But I got the feeling there was something else on his mind.
“It’s too late now, Spike,” he said, “but you should not have left the jobsite for any reason.”
Joel was right. Dad taught me better than that. By being absent, I’d only made it look like I had something to hide. I tried to put myself in the shoes of all the PS 20 mothers. I wasn’t a mother myself. But I knew they’d be worried sick about their children.
“One more thing,” he said. “Keep in mind if one of those kids or faculty members should start screaming cancer, you’re going to find yourself in more trouble than you ever thought possible.”
My sternum went tight at the thought of a sick child. I decided to put it out of my mind the best I could.
“What do you want me to do with the shell casing? And what about the other stuff…the chewing tobacco tin and the Thatcher Street business card?”
“Don’t touch it more than you have. Pack it up and drop it off at my office. We got a real missing person’s case or, God forbid, a homicide, the cops will want to confiscate it all.”
“So what do you suggest I do now?” I said, voice betraying me by cracking mid-sentence.
“Like I’ve been trying to tell you,” Joel said. “Lay low and do right thing.”
“Listen, there’s a hold on my petty cash account.”
Joel sighed. He was a big man who was good at big sighs.
“My guess is the school has placed a lien on your accounts pending rectification of the asbestos contamination.”
“They want their money back is what they want Joel.”
“They’re simply trying to protect themselves. I’ll see about bonding the liens tomorrow morning after I go after Farrell’s bid bond.”
“What do I do for money in the meantime?”
“Use your personal checking account.”
“All thirty-five cents of it?”
What I didn’t have the guts to tell Joel was that lately, I’d been using the Harrison cash accounts as my own personal accounts.
“You must have credit cards.”
“Harrison Construction AMEX,” I said, knowing I had maybe a grand left on it before it was maxed out.
“Just use that,” Joel said. “Pay it off later.”
With what? I wanted to say.
I hung up, retrieved my briefcase from the Jeep, headed for my apartment which was located appropriately enough, in the basement.
Chapter 20
I made my way into my bedroom. From out of my pocket I pulled out the misspelled “Closed Untill Further Notice” note with the odd sketch on the back. I set it, along with my briefcase on the desktop. I turned on the laptop. While I waited for it to boot up, I touched my lips with the tips of my two fingers, pressed them to Jordan’s mouth—the Jordan that appeared for me in the framed black and white studio headshot I kept of him directly beside my computer.
I went into the kitchen, grabbed a cold bottle of beer, brought it back into the bedroom with me. I sat down at the desk, logged onto the Harrison Construction website and typed in the password that accessed my email. The new emails fell one by one into a vertical column like rapidly stacked bricks. There had to be thirty or more new messages, most of them from the Tiger Lady.
It had been one hell of a long Monday. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d accomplished anything. Maybe I wasn’t any closer to finding Farrell, but I was a little closer to finding out what happened to him.
I opened the briefcase, pulled out all the items I’d collected at the public fishing access site. I picked up the spent shell casing, took a good look at the back rim where the pin had left its indentation mark.
Winchester .9mm rounds, 362 grains.
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