NAILED (7 page)

“Here you go,” I said as I placed the tea in front of her. “That sure was weird that the police were there to see Mr. Hachmeister about the death of Victor Sanjari, because that’s why I wanted to speak with him.”

“Were you a friend of Victor’s too?” Suzette asked.

“Not exactly. I know his daughter Moshi. She goes to school with my niece.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to share everything with Suzette, but what else could I tell her, so I related the story of how my sister argued with the man on the day he died.

“Did you know him well?” I asked.

It was the first time I saw something resembling a scowl form on the cheerful face of Suzette.

“Not really. I mean he comes in all the time. He and Gary, Mr. Hachmeister, went to school together. Boyhood friends and all that. I didn’t like Victor. He was sleazy. Kept touching me and always had some inappropriate thing to say. I tried to ignore him as much as I could without being unprofessional. Anyway, lately Gary’s been telling me to say he’s out on a site or in a meeting when Victor came by. I think something happened between the two of them, if you ask me. He came by on Tuesday and caught Gary in the lobby so they went back to Gary’s office. There was yelling and then Vic stormed out. Gary was in a bad mood the rest of the day.”

I sucked some of the tea up through the straw. “Really. Do you know what it was all about?”

“I’m not entirely sure. But I heard Gary say something like, ‘well that wasn’t our deal.’ Not sure what it meant, but I do know from the construction foreman on one of the sites that Vic refused to sign off on the plumbing for a new house. Vic said the materials were subpar and the workmanship shoddy.”

“That doesn’t sound very good, especially for a firm with a reputation for custom homes,” I said.

“Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this stuff, but the truth is I’m looking for another job. I’ve been with Gary for seven years. I run the office, do all the payroll and HR stuff. I love my job. Well, I used to love it, but something is going on. I know for a fact Gary has started using undocumented workers on some of his sites. Eastern Europeans. I don’t care about that. Everyone deserves a job if they need to work. My concern is that these men aren’t properly trained in their craft. There’s a talent to brick laying and building stone walls. And the carpentry work and tile.” Suzette shook her head and sighed. “I can’t tell you how much stuff has to be re-done because an owner won’t accept it when we do the final walk through. So where is Gary saving money? I don’t understand. I hate to leave, but I don’t feel I have a choice. I don’t want to be part of anything unsavory, and now with a murder on one of our sites, I feel like some higher power is telling me to leave. Trouble is, I’m in my fifties and companies want the young people straight out of college.”

I reached into my purse and pulled out my business card and slid it across the table. “I own a temp agency. If you’re interested you could set up an appointment with our office manager for testing. If your skills are all up to date, I’m pretty sure I could find you work. Maybe not full- time at first, but it’s something.”

Suzette looked at the card and a smile spread across her face. “This is perfect! My husband would love it if I didn’t work full-time. He’s semi-retired and he’s been pestering me to cut down on my hours, but Gary needs someone full-time. Thank you. I’ll call tomorrow and set something up.”

I hadn’t expected to drum up any business, but my stalking had yielded another viable candidate for my firm. I was about to say good-bye and let Suzette get back to her shopping, when I thought of something else that might help my
other
investigation.

“Did Mr. Hachmeister ever talk with you about the death of Mr. Sanjari’s wife?”

“Jenna. Oh, that was horrible. She was a lovely woman. I met her a couple of times at open houses we had around the holidays. Just such a shock.”

“Did you or Mr. Hachmeister find it strange that she died the way she did?”

Suzette looked thoughtful. “I thought it was weird that they went up to Maine in winter. I mean, we had plenty of snow and cold right here. Why not go away to someplace nice and warm if you were trying to have a second honeymoon? Are you saying there’s something fishy about how Jenna died?”

“I don’t know. Her family certainly had concerns, and I know Mr. Sanjari was questioned by the Maine police.”

“And you think his death might be related?”

I shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”

“I hope to heaven that Gary’s not involved in Vic’s murder. But he never said anything to me about Jenna’s death being suspicious. He was very upset after she died, but in the usual way. He took it very hard. You see, I notice things, and if you ask me, I’d say that Gary was in love with Jenna.”

That was quite a little bombshell, and it also made me want to look at Gary Hachmeister more seriously for the death of Victor Sanjari. If the man was in love with Vic’s wife and found out he killed her, maybe he had been waiting all these months for the perfect time to take his revenge.

I pushed my cart around aimlessly until I came to the meat counter. Suzette was just taking her package from the butcher of what I presumed were steaks for dinner, and headed her cart in the opposite direction. I moved along to the end of the counter where there was an assortment of already cooked chickens, ribs, and tri-tip. I put a tri-tip in my cart thinking I could slice it very thin for sandwiches. I picked up some cheese and marinated chilies. In the produce section I found tomatoes and a ripe avocado. I paid for my purchases without seeing Suzette again, and headed home.

John wasn’t home when I got there and I wasn’t hungry yet, so I grabbed my exercise gear and headed for the gym. Half an hour later I vigorously walked uphill on the treadmill while I read a book by an indie author I found on Amazon. The book,
Free Country
, was about two British guys who decided to walk the length of Britain without using any money. I had resisted getting a Kindle for a long time, but it certainly came in handy at the gym, and there was always a good selection of great books by independent authors to choose from.

“Alex, is that you?”

I looked up from my page to see a man with very large biceps and an engaging smile.

“Seymour! How nice to see you. How have you been?”

Seymour Pratt, aka Sloth, was a young tattoo artist with a bright future thanks to some financial help from my grandmother. Meme likes helping young people with questionable pasts get back on their feet, and Seymour was one of her many success stories. In addition to tattoos, he also designed custom rosary beads. A strange combination to be sure, but he had blended both skills beautifully, and had his own shop in Pirates Cove called
Body Expressions
.

“I’m doing well. The shop is getting a good reputation, and I’m starting to get a lot of customers via word of mouth from all over New England and New York. I saw your grandmother today.”

“Oh, yeah, she told me she and Theresa needed to pick up more tattoos.” Meme and her gang like wearing temporary tattoos with various bingo motifs when they go to the bingo halls. She had managed to drum up quite a bit of business for Seymour, and he tried to come up with a new design every month for the ladies.

“I owe everything to your grandmother. She had faith in me from the beginning, and I’m proud of the fact that I haven’t let her down.”

“My grandmother knows a good bet when she sees one.”

Seymour blushed and then changed the subject. “She tells me you’re on another case.”

“I am.” I proceeded to tell Seymour everything I knew so far including my conversation with Suzette at
Whole Foods
. When I was done, he looked to be deep in thought.

“Seymour? Is something wrong?”

“I’m doing a tat for some guy out of New York. Not sure what his line of work is and I don’t ask. But he was telling me about an influx of guys coming into the states from Eastern Europe, the Balkans, mainly. Some from the Baltic as well. They’re looking for work. I’m like a hairdresser. People feel the need to talk to me while I’m working on them.”

“Hmm. Sounds like maybe some of them are working at
Connecticut Custom Homes
.”

“Maybe. I’m sure some of it is on the up and up, at least as up as entering a country illegally can be.”

“But?” I asked, my breath coming in gasps. The treadmill was at its steepest angle and I had increased the speed a few minutes ago.

“But I think some of these poor guys got sucked into paying for entry with the promise of good jobs, a decent place to live, and money to send home to the family.”

“And that’s not happening?”

Seymour crossed his large arms across his chest. “I don’t know. Look at all these women that come here with the promise of a better life and end up in the sex trade.”

“So maybe Vic Sanjari was bringing in cheap labor from other countries and didn’t make good on his promises and one of them killed him.” I smiled. “I like it.”

“It’s a better scenario than the police thinking Sam is involved. Mrs. Redmond said John is a good guy, so I’m sure he is. He’ll come to his senses. I think your sister will be fine. Look, I’ve got to finish my workout. I’m meeting up with some friends for dinner and a movie. Good to see you, Alex.”

“You, too, Seymour.”

I watched him move over to where the free weights were and then returned to my thoughts. I’d only been working the case for a few hours and already I had tons of suspects. Now all I had to do was convince a certain detective that Gary Hachmeister and a host of illegal Eastern European workers deserved a visit by the police.

As soon as I stepped in the door, I ran upstairs for a quick shower. I tossed on my summer night shirt and headed downstairs to make a sandwich. John was standing at the sink cutting up tomatoes and the avocado.

“I assume we’re having sandwiches. I cut the meat up in thin slices. It’s on the table.”

The table was set for two with a bowl of cut-up cantaloupe to go with the sandwiches, a little cup with the chilies, and a plate with slices of meat and cheese.

“This looks good. Thanks,” I said.

“It’s too hot for the oven, but I can warm your sandwich and melt the cheese in the toaster oven,” John offered.

“Okay.” I watched him spread the bread with some mayonnaise and horseradish just the way I liked it. Then he piled on meat and two slices of cheese and put the sandwich in the little oven on the counter. When it was warmed he placed it in front of me and repeated the process for himself. Okay, so the man had a few uses. I glanced at him while I took a bite of the sandwich, savoring the chili I had tossed on. He could exasperate me to no end like yesterday, but I also knew that John would never drag me out of a party by the arm or tell me to go to bed just because he was tired. He also put a lot of thought into the gifts he gave me, and the best thing of all was that I knew if my mother or father or grandmother ever needed to live with us when they got older, he would move them in immediately. No assisted living care would do, not while John and I were able to care for them.

John took his sandwich from the oven and came and sat next to me. We both ate in silence for a few minutes. The cantaloupe was cool and refreshing, and the glass of mint iced tea John poured was perfect.

“Your sister came to see me this morning.”

“I know. She told Meme and me she was going to.”

John looked at me with concern. “Did you know she and Michael are having problems?”

I had a mouth full of food, so I shook my head. When I finally swallowed, I said, “not until yesterday.”

“Do you really think he’s cheating on her? I can’t believe it. He’s not that kind of a guy. He loves Sam and the kids.”

“So she told you about sitting across from his office at the time Mr. Sanjari was killed?” I really didn’t feel like getting into another argument, but I had to know what was going on with my sister.

“She did. I could see why she didn’t want to tell me, but I’m glad she did. I told her to stop. She needs to sit Michael down and work it out.”

“So you believe her?” I asked.

“I believe her. But just to be sure we checked the cameras in the parking lot. Your sister at least had the good luck to do her spying from a bank parking lot. Cameras all over. There she was, just like she said, at the time Mr. Sanjari was nailed.”

“So she’s off the hook?” I held my breath.

John looked at me and nodded, a big smile spread across his face. “She’s off the hook and it’s a good thing because I have a feeling if she went to prison, you’d probably want to go with her to keep her company.”

I jumped out of my seat and wrapped my arms around John’s neck, then placed a big kiss on his lips. “Thank you. I really didn’t want to go to jail and you’re right, Sam would never have made it on her own.” I sat back down and took a gulp of tea.

“What’s wrong?” I asked when I looked back at John and saw how serious he had become.

“Sam said she told Michael about Victor Sanjari’s passes. She said Michael didn’t like the guy at all, and didn’t like how his daughter was treating Kendall. Michael said the little girl was a bully and he thought that he and Sam needed to talk to Victor. Sam told him that Moshi’s mother had just died and things would get better after a while, but Kendall came home crying one day a couple of weeks ago and Michael had had enough.”

“I don’t blame him, but now that she’ll be living with her aunt, hopefully things will be better. What’s that look?”

“Your sister is thankfully off the hook.”

“But?” I had a bad feeling about this.

“But, Alex, I have to ask, and don’t get upset with me, but where the hell was Michael when Victor Sanjari was killed?”

Just when I thought a night of passion might be in the offing, John had to go and act like a cop again. Geesh. And I had even put on my nice night shirt, not the one with the holes, which was actually a lot more comfortable.