Rancho Chapter 2

Chapter 2

   “I’d like to go back by the fire. Are you up to that?” Greg asked.
   “Sure.”
   The firefighters were gone, but there was a patrol car sitting in front of the building. Greg identified himself and explained that he wanted to examine the scene. The patrolman asked him not to touch anything until the investigators finished their work.
   “I’ll drive to the back of the building,” Greg said, shining the light on the blackened dumpster. We examined the damage.
   “I don’t understand why the dumpster is sitting right beside the building. All the supervisors know the dumpster is supposed to sit at least twenty feet from the building.
   “And there’s really nothing in the dumpster that would spontaneously combust to start a fire.
   “Fortunately, this damage is to the exterior. That’ll be an easy fix. If the fire had burned inside, it would have been a major disaster,” he said. “It’s just a fluke that Louis found the bricklayer’s hose. They usually pack up all their equipment when they leave.”
   “Well, it doesn’t seem like this evening is quite as bad as it could’ve been,” I said.
   “Right, Louis is not badly hurt, and the building survived. So, yeah, not exactly a disaster.”
   “We’ll be slowed down a day or two while the investigators do their work. Then there’ll be the insurance people. The rest of this week’ll be a wash for this job.”
   On the way back to Rockwell Pond, Greg described a series of incidents in the last six months, but I stopped him. If he was talking about an investigation, Greg needed to know why Melissa and I were in Selma.
   “Well, I’ve looked at these incidents, like the fire tonight,” Greg said, “but I have a company to run, and I’m not an investigator, so I don’t know what to look for. But these incidents seem to be getting more serious. I need to know what’s happening.”
   “Okay, but here’s what you need to know,” I said, starting by explaining our work for the Hagers, the bank robbery, finding the documents, evidence of a murder, my arrest by the FBI, the negotiations, and my escape.
   “Escape? From the FBI? Come on. You’ve got to be kidding,” Greg said.
   I described how Melissa and I had planned the escape. “But here’s the thing,” I said, “the FBI’s looking for us. I don’t want any of that to rub off on you. FBI agents are good, and they don’t give up. They’re like bloodhounds: They can be good friends, but when they get the scent, they’re relentless.”
   “Noted,” Greg said. “But I don’t know where to turn. I suppose I could hire another investigator, but I don’t know who to trust. And something’s going on. I need to get to the bottom of this before someone gets more seriously hurt.”
   “Well, Melissa’s sister, Ana, is coming in tomorrow. I think you’ll be surprised when you meet her. They’re twins in some ways, but they’re different in others. How about getting together tomorrow evening and see how they feel about this? We haven’t done our own investigation; we’ve always worked for the Hagers. But they screwed us over.”
   “Sounds like a plan,” Greg said.
   On Tuesday, as Melissa and I lounged around the pool, Ana came through the house to find us. “Jeez, is this what running from the FBI looks like?”
   Melissa hugged her and suggested that she change and join us. She said the bedroom next to hers was vacant. She gave Ana directions.
   Returning to the pool in a bikini identical to Melissa’s, Ana said, “I can’t stay long. I need to fly back to Carbondale and spend some time at the office.”
   “How can you spend so much time away?” I asked.
   “I’m never really away. I’m in twenty-four-hour contact. And my manager is a better computer guy than I am, and he only hires people better than himself. So, we have some of the best computer people in the world. And they all share in the finances. They are loyal. I think they’d go down with Anthony, the manager.”
   “How did your visit with Tim go?” Melissa asked.
   “It was wonderful. I think we’re both ready to take another step. We just don’t know what that’ll look like. He’s moved up in his firm; he’s now the vice president of engineering, so it would be hard for him to change jobs, and I don’t know if I want to live in L.A. It’s an okay place, but I’m a Midwesterner.”
   Melissa told Ana about the phone call with the Hagers and their attempt to wiggle out of the contract.
   “It sounds like we have some work to do,” Ana said.
   “I’ve also talked to Leon about starting our own firm. But he said that would be impossible with the FBI thing hanging over our head.”
   “He has a point. We need to work on that, too.”
    “Ana, our neighbor, Greg LaBree—”
   “Is that the Greg—”
   “Yes,” Melissa said.
   “Wow, I look forward to meeting him. To hear Dad talk, he must be seven feet tall, have bulging muscles, and a roar like a lion,” Ana said.
   Melissa and I laughed at Ana’s mental picture.
   “Well, not quite,” I said. “Close, but not quite.”
   “Anyway,” I said, “he has a problem. He has a construction business with several jobs underway, but there’ve been some strange accidents. Last night, there was a fire at one of his sites. So, he wants to talk to us about these problems and see if we can help. So, I’ve invited them for dinner this evening. Are you up to it?”
   “Sure. I’m going to swim a few laps and then get some rest. I’ll be ready to help with dinner.”
   After Ana dove into the pool, Melissa asked, “Have you thought any more about having Beth and the kids come out to Disneyland?”
   “I like the thought. I’m going to Fresno tomorrow to make some calls. Do you want to come along?”
   “You bet. You need someone to watch your back.”
   Later, Ana and Melissa worked like a team in the kitchen, and I felt more like a hindrance than helpful. “Cooking was something we loved to do with Mom,” Ana said. “It made us feel close, especially when we missed Dad.”
   They made St. Louis Slingers, salad, and gooey butter cake with ice cream for dessert. The cooking smells blended to make the house smell like a high-end restaurant.
   At six o’clock, Greg, Janet, and the children came through the back door. They all stared at Ana and Melissa, trying to guess who was who. The twins enjoyed teasing them until Ana identified herself.
   “This food smells wonderful,” Janet said. “What is it?”
   Ana described the dishes and gave their history. She said they might be available in other places, but St. Louis was their home.
   “Greg,” Melissa said, “Ana thought the way Dad described you, you would be seven feet tall, have bulging muscles, and roar like a lion.” We all laughed at the caricature.
   “Sorry to disappoint you, Ana. Six-one, two hundred, and some muscle gone to flab,” Greg continued the good-natured humor.
   “Well, Dad does have a way of adding to his stories,” Ana said. Turning to James, she asked what he wanted to do, and he said he wanted to study engineering and come back to help his dad. Kimbrlee said she considered a career in the State Department’s Foreign Service.
    “What do you do, Miss Ana?” James asked.
   “Oh, I play with computers,” she said. “Do you play computer games?”
   “When Mom lets us. We have to have all our homework done, and all the chores finished before we can get on the computer at all.”
   “My mom was the same way, and I always resented it. But now I see how smart she was,” Ana said, supporting Janet’s parenting.
   “I tell you what: I’ve been working on a new game. It’s not complete yet. I need someone to try it and keep a record of any problems it has. Are you interested?”
   “Wow, yeah. Mom?” he said, turning to look to Janet for approval.
   “Homework first, then chores,” she said.
   “Okay,” James and Kimbrlee said.
   “You can play this as a team, helping each other, or as opponents. Bring your laptop over, and I’ll load it. I’ll have to secure it so no one can get it, and set a time limit, say, a week. If you like it, and if I’m still here, we can extend the time. You can’t let anyone copy the game.”
   “Can our friends play it?”
   “Oh, sure, but only on your computer. If anyone tries to copy it, the program disappears.”
   “Can we do it tonight?” They looked at Janet, who said they could work on the game after dinner. Greg and Janet wanted to know about the major and his work. As we carried the dishes to the kitchen, James ran to get his laptop. They met in the study, and Ana downloaded the game onto his computer.
   “I’m not going to tell you anything about the game,” Ana said. “Right now, we call it ‘Speed.’ You have to figure it out and keep a notebook about what you like and don’t like. If you have any problems, note the page and what you were doing. As I said, the game is not complete. So, I need your help. Your regular game controllers should work.”
   The kids ran to the living room to start the game, and Ana joined us while we nibbled on the leftovers and talked.
   “I guess Leon told you I’m having some problems at work, and I need to get to the bottom of it before someone gets more seriously hurt,” Greg said.
   “By the way, I talked to Louis this afternoon, and he’s doing okay. His head is sore, but otherwise, he’s okay.”
   “Good. Why don’t you start from the beginning?” I said.
   “The first problem was about, oh, three months ago, on one of our construction sites. When we pour concrete, there are all kinds of specs—the cement mixture, the aggregate, the chemicals, and so forth. When a load of concrete arrives, we take a sample; it’s numbered and dated. We use a pumping company from Fresno. We were pouring the second floor. The pour went okay, but the next day, cracks showed up in the pilings. We took the samples and some pieces of the pilings to a lab. The samples met all specs, but the pieces from the pilings showed a high level of trisodium phosphate. We had to demolish all that work.”
   “Any idea how the— What?” Melissa asked.
   “Trisodium phosphate,” he said.
   “No. Sometimes a pumper will add extra water to help, but no one saw anything out of the ordinary.”
   “But, we had the pumper truck number and driver’s name on the receipt. We found the truck, but there was no driver listed under that name. In fact, the company didn’t even have our order for that day.”
   “How could they misplace a truck?” Melissa asked.
   “That’s what we wanted to know. They have several pumpers, and they’re all parked together. The lot has no security or surveillance equipment. So, to answer that question, it seems possible. What no one has explained is how the pumper company had no record of our order,” Greg said.
   “That episode set us back two weeks and thousands of dollars. But fortunately, we caught it before we built on the pilings. That would have been disastrous.”
   “Tell them about the survey,” Janet said.
   “Yeah. About two months ago, we started a new project. There are a lot of regulations to meet—setback, sewage, water, and so forth,” Greg said. “We were careful to be sure all the paperwork and forms were complete. The survey was complete, and the city and county inspectors signed off. When the excavator came to start work, he saw something he didn’t like, so he called his supervisor, who called me. We went to look, and something wasn’t right. We called the surveyor, who had all his completed paperwork. But when he came to look at the site, he agreed that something didn’t look right. He called his team, and they started the survey over. Sure enough, the markers were about ten feet off. They could see the holes in the ground where the original markers had been. Someone had moved them.”
   “Had the excavator not caught it, and we had gone ahead with the building, it would have caused no end of trouble with the city, county, owners, and neighboring property.”
   Greg said there had been other screw-ups: wrong material orders, material not delivered on time, and scheduling conflicts with workers. Then the fire last night.
   “And all these are unusual?” Melissa asked.
   “I’ve been doing this for many years, and sure, there are occasional mistakes, but we’ve always been able to trace them to the source. I make a mistake with an order, or a supervisor schedules a crew incorrectly. But with all these latest screw-ups, there’s no obvious source, no explanation.
   “The fire last night, for example, everyone knows dumpsters are set at least twenty feet from the building. The foreman was not on site when the driver delivered the dumpster. The driver said a drywaller had him put the dumpster next to the building, so he wouldn’t have to carry scraps so far.”
   “And those things have happened in the last three months?” I asked.
   “Yeah, the unexplainable screw-ups. None of them has been disastrous yet. But you saw the fire; if it had gotten inside the building. Or the survey…” He let the sentence draw out so we’d get the picture.
   “We’re not a large company, so we might be able to overcome one problem. But two or three would ruin us.”
   “And you have no idea where this is coming from?” I asked.
   “None.”
   “Are any of the other companies in the area having similar problems?” Melissa asked.
   “Hmm. I don’t know. We have a builders’ and contractors’ association in town. We meet a couple of times a year. I’ll make some calls.”
   “Hon,” Janet said, “we need to go. I want to rest an hour or so before work.”
   “Work?” Melissa asked.
   “Yeah, I’m doing the night shift at the hospital this weekend. One of the other nurses got married, so we’re covering for her while she’s on her honeymoon.”
   The kids were deep into the computer game and didn’t want to turn it off. Ana showed them how to save the game and restart it at the same point.
   After the LaBrees left, the twins and I reviewed Greg’s conversation. We concluded that something was going on with Greg’s company, but I didn’t know how long we could stay in one place. This Rockwell Pond property is in Beth’s name, but the FBI could certainly make that connection. So, it might be best to move. But this was Greg, and if the major ever found out we failed to help, he’d raise a storm.
   “Let me work on that tonight,” Ana said.
   “What do you mean, ‘work on that?’” I asked.
   “You don’t want to know,” the twins said simultaneously.
   At breakfast Wednesday morning, Ana said, “Well, I’ve got good news and some not-so-good news.”
   We wanted the not-so-good news first. Ana said that Agent Brian Dunn wasn’t fired. It seems he had been reassigned to desk duty.
   “How did you find that out?” I asked.
   “You don’t want to know,” the twins said simultaneously.
   Ana said the good news was that Leon had not made the Most Wanted list. Apparently, his help in solving a murder and a major corporate swindle went on his record, too.
   “What about the FBI search?” I asked.
   According to Ana, our fingerprint file and picture had been altered.
   “How—? I know; I don’t want to know,” I said.
   “I have to take a trip to Los Angeles to pick up some new documents for you. I’ll spend the night with Tim and be back tomorrow afternoon.”
   “Documents?” I asked.
   “Driver’s license, credit card, and Social Security card.”
   “I don’t want to know?” I said.
   “Right,” they said.
   “Okay, while you’re gone, Melissa and I will be planning our next move with the Hagers. It doesn’t seem like they’re going to cooperate.”
   Ana left, and Melissa and I loaded the dishwasher, changed, and went to sit beside the pool and drink tea.
   “You know, Leon, if we pursue this thing with Greg, we’re operating on our own, and I assume this is pro bono?”
   “Yeah, but it really doesn’t feel any different, and we haven’t actually decided to take it on yet.”
   “Would you want to face Dad if he ever found out we didn’t help Greg when he needed it? You and Greg were like sons to him. So, yeah, we’ve decided to help.”
   “I don’t want to drag you and Ana into this. So far, you’re in the clear.”
   “Oh, come on. Like I told you, we’re big girls. We make our own decisions, and we’ve decided to help. Clear!” Melissa said, with finality in the tone of her voice.
   “I think we need a name,” she said. “‘Leon and Melissa’ or ‘Bayce and Shot’ aren’t catchy enough.”
   “Well, how about just ‘Shot’? Or ‘Shot Investigation’?” I said.
   “Catchy, but what about you?”
   “It was just a thought. Let it settle and see if anything else comes up. For now, I have two things on my mind: Beth’s visit and the Hager brothers.”
   “Tell you what: Why don’t you work on Beth’s visit, and I’ll work on the Hager brothers,” she said.
   “What can you do from here?”
   “I’m not as good as Ana, but I’ve learned a lot from her. So, I’ll start working on it while you’re in Fresno.”
   “Be sure to use the Wi-Fi in the study. It has a VPN, so it can’t be easily traced.”
   While Melissa used the computer in the study to check on the Hagers, I went to Fresno to call Beth. I took two of the prepaids.
   It was early Wednesday evening when I placed the call to Beth.


Hi, honey. Let’s not use names.
…
Yes, I’m okay. Is the FBI hounding you?
…
You’re right. It’s always best not to lie to the FBI. They’re sharp—they can pick up on that right away. Can you and the kids come to Los Angeles?
…
Yeah, we don’t have all the details worked out yet.
…
Just the kids want to see me?
…
Okay, I’ll work on the schedule. When we get a date, plan to leave on Sunday and return on the next Sunday. That way you’ll only miss a week. And by the way, best not mention this to the kids. If something happens, I don’t want them to be disappointed.
…
I’m not surprised by either the IRS tracking down our money or the trial. I need to go. Honey, I can’t wait to see you and the kids.
…
I love you.


   I ended the call and removed the phone’s battery. Later, when I walked into the Rockwell Pond house, cooking smells filled the house, and I followed them to the kitchen, where Melissa was busy preparing dinner.
   “Wow, you look good,” she said. “The call must have gone well.”
   “It did. And yes, it was good to hear Beth’s voice and find out everything is going okay. The FBI came by to see if she had any information, which she didn’t. And she said they weren’t hassling her.”
   “Are you going to ask me?” Melissa said.
   “It’s obvious you’re bursting to talk, so what did you find out?”
   “First, IE has not paid its bill yet. Apparently, Wally is getting nervous. Here’s one of his emails,” she said, handing me a printout.
   To: Mr. Perry Bell, Manager, Iowa Energy From: Wally Hager, Hager and Hager Investigation Date: March 15 Subject: Invoice
   Dear Mr. Bell:
   I was unable to reach you by phone on two previous occasions to discuss the invoice for services.
   As stated on the invoice, payment is due within 30 days of receipt.
   Please remit $200,000.
   Thank you, Wally Hager.
   “Why, that snake,” I said. “He’s charging us a ten percent fee and IE—what?—almost nine percent. That worthless pile of—”
   “Okay, okay,” Melissa said. “Agreed.”
   “Wally also has a girlfriend. Here are some of his emails.” She handed me some pages. “He erased them, but as you know, ‘speak it, forget it; write it, live with it.’ Once it’s on the web, it’s always on the web.”
   She handed me the emails, and I scanned them. Some were risqué. “Why, that—. This would kill Suzanne and the girls.”
   “Apparently, his girlfriend did some work for the Hagers,” Melissa said. “And Wally fell for her. From these emails, it seems that Wally pursued her after she left his company and went to work for an international shipping company. She quit the investigation business.”
   “Is this her?” I asked, holding up an email.
   “Yeah, Holly Cooper. That’s her address, where he sent some flowers.”
   “You know,” I said, “I’m pretty good with computers, but nothing like this.”
   “Wait till you see Ana; she’s like the conductor of a philharmonic orchestra when she puts her fingers on the keyboard. I’m glad she’s a white hatter.”
   “White hatter?”
   “One of the good guys.”
   “You know, if Bell hasn’t paid the Hagers, I have an idea. Do you think you can get his address and schedule?”
   “Hmmm?”
   “Okay, dumb question. Why don’t you do that—after dinner? I’m starved. Then I can tell you what I’m thinking.”
   “Maybe it would be good to wait ‘til Ana gets back and see what she’s done,” Melissa said
   “Right.”
   Thursday afternoon, while we lounged by the pool, Ana came through the door. She handed each of us new driver’s licenses, credit cards, and Social Security Cards. All the information, she said, was in the system. The prepaid credit cards each had one thousand dollars, so we had to be mindful of expenses until we loaded more money on them.
   My new name was Taylor Allen, and Melissa’s new name was Crystal Mason.
   I told Ana we were going to help Greg, and we considered the name Shot Investigation.
   “Catchy,” she said. She also told us that she had to go to Carbondale for a week. The team wanted to work through a new module for the medical program, and she wanted to get feedback on the new game. She was driving back to L.A. this evening.
   “When you get back, I’d like to work on the Hager matter. In the meantime, Melissa, or Crystal, and I will work on Greg’s issue,” I said.

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