Passions of the Dead (A Detective Jackson Mystery/Thriller) (4 page)

He climbed the steps, each lift tugging on his scar, and entered the crowded mobile space. The clutter would have been overwhelming if he had not spent the last twelve years in a cramped office at headquarters. Rita Altman and Officer Anderson sat at a small folding table near the front. Anderson kept his face impassive, but under the table, his leg was jumping.

“I’ll take this for a while,” Jackson said. Anderson patted Rita on the shoulder, then hustled out like a man in need of a bathroom. Jackson looked at the list. The writing changed midway through, as if Rita had started it, then Anderson took over. Neither had decent penmanship but the information was substantial.

At a glance, Jackson learned Jared had been laid off from Engall’s Renovation eight weeks ago, and Roy Engall was listed as his boss and friend. Carla had worked for Silver Moon Jewelry until late April, and Lori Walker, age eighteen, worked at Appleton’s.

“Does Lori drive?” Jackson asked.

“Yes. She uses her mom’s car.”

“Does anyone in the house play baseball?”

“They all play softball. Carla and Jared are on a city league together, and Lori plays on the high school team.” Rita stifled a sob, then announced, “I need to go to the hospital to be with Lori.”

“Are you okay to drive?”

“I called my husband. He’s going to meet me at our house, which isn’t far from here.”

“Thanks for your help.” Jackson patted the back of her hand, and Rita shuffled out. They would fill in the list as they questioned everyone.

McCray pounded up the steps into the mobile unit. “Hey, Jackson. You need to look at this.” The older detective had a sheet of white paper in his hand. “I think Jared Walker may have been blackmailing Roy Engall, the guy who didn’t come home last night.”

Eight weeks earlier, Monday, April 1

Jared slipped the cell phone back in his pocket. What the hell? His boss had just invited him out to breakfast. In the five years he’d been painting houses for Roy Engall, they’d never had breakfast. Plenty of beers together at the Time Out Tavern after work and an occasional burger for lunch, but whenever Roy called early in the morning, it was always to talk about the work lined up for the day.

The coffee went sour in Jared’s stomach. Something was up. He pushed back from the table just as Carla came into the kitchen. Her pink pajamas were stained and her crazy morning hair was worse than usual, but his heart filled with joy every time he saw her. “Morning, gorgeous.”

She kissed the top of his head, and he squeezed her butt as she padded toward the coffee he’d brewed. Jared stood and pulled on his overshirt. “I’ve got to run. Roy wants to meet me for breakfast.”

Carla turned and scowled. “That’s weird.”

“I know. See you later.”

“Do you think–?”

“Don’t even say it.” Jared grabbed his keys from the hook by the refrigerator, kissed Carla, and scooted out. There was no point in speculating. He would find out soon enough.

As he reached the restaurant the sun came up over the mountains, revealing a dark layer of clouds overhead. A late spring chill was still in the air as Jared crossed the parking lot, which was nearly empty. He’d never seen it like this before, and he’d been coming to Shari’s since it opened. Jared hurried into the foyer and spotted Roy in a booth along the front wall. He bypassed the hostess and headed straight over. The scent of maple syrup and toasty bread made his mouth water.

“Hey, Jared.” His boss’ fleece jacket seemed tight on his torso, his cheeks were red, and moisture glimmered on his scalp where his hair was receding. But that was Roy.

“Hey.” Jared searched his face, and Roy’s left eye twitched. He’d had too much coffee already. How long had his boss been sitting here, waiting?

“We should order. I’m starving.” Roy tapped his plastic-coated menu.

Jared flipped through the pages, seeing the pictures and words, but not processing the food details. What was this about? Did Roy know he had started documenting the safety problems? The waitress came to the table, and they both ordered Denver omelets.

“Are we still going out to the Wetzlers’ house to prep today?” Jared said, when she walked away.

“No.” Roy locked his fingers together. “They canceled the job.”

“Ah shit.” They’d had a lot of cancellations lately. “So we’ll start the Deacon Street job early.”

Roy leaned toward him like a conspirator. “Jared, it kills me to tell you this, but I don’t have enough work to keep you on. I have to let you go. I’d like to think it’s temporary, but we all know better. This recession isn’t going away for a while.”

Jared felt like he’d been body slammed. He had to pull in some air before he could speak. “Why me? I’ve been with you for five years.”

“I let Keith go too.”

“What about Tyler?”

Roy looked away. “He’s Noni’s kid. I’m stuck with him.”

“But he’s not dependable and he can’t paint or sheetrock for shit.” Heat and shame fought for space in his chest. “What about Darrell? He’s only been with you a year.”

“His wife just had a baby. They have no other income. At least Carla still has a job.”

“I have two kids and a truck payment, not to mention rent. I don’t believe this, man.”

“I have no choice.” Roy was louder now, less sympathetic. “We simply don’t have enough work to keep everyone on.”

Jared’s mother had taught him to never raise his voice in public. He whispered loudly to make his point. “You know I can’t collect unemployment!”

“You knew that when you took the job. I’m sorry.”

Jared wanted to punch his smug little face. Instead, he bolted from the restaurant.

Back in his truck, he put his forehead against the steering wheel and fought the black hole trying to swallow him. What the hell would he do now? No one was hiring. He heard his mother’s voice in his head, nagging him to quit working under the table and start paying into Social Security. Jared let out a bitter laugh. She got the first half of her wish.

He couldn’t go home and face Carla yet. She was such a worrier. The thought of telling her he had no job made his teeth hurt. Carla counted on him to pay his share of the bills. He could not let her down ever again. They had married straight out of high school with little Lori already on the way. Jared had not been ready for any of it, and it took him a while to settle into his responsibilities. Carla had been patient for a long time, but she had expectations now.

Jared started the truck and squealed out of the parking lot. What if Carla got that look? The one that said,
I told you this was a bad idea and now we’re going to suffer for it
.

Jared had had his share of bad ideas over the years. Like the time he loaned six hundred dollars to Deke, this kid he knew who never lost at cards. The money was for Deke’s stake in a poker game at the Eldorado. Deke was supposed to win ten grand or more and split the pot with him. Jared had planned to send Nick to basketball camp and buy Lori a used car. He’d fantasized about how happy they would be. Things hadn’t turned out quite like that, and Jared had learned his lesson. He’d promised Carla “no more money mistakes.”

Off to the right, the dark water of Fern Ridge Reservoir caught his eye. Subconsciously, he’d driven west toward Veneta, the small town where he’d grown up. Ten minutes later, Jared was parked in front of his mother’s house. Only she didn’t live here anymore. She didn’t live anywhere.

Jared let the memories flood him. Playing tag with his friends in the park in the summer. Fishing at the lake with Cory. Drinking with his high school friends behind the barn on Perkins Road.

The reality of his situation slammed back into his head. What the hell could he do? His chance of finding a job was laughable. Nobody was building new houses and damn few people were spending money on new paint. He’d worked as a prep cook when he was younger and could apply at restaurants, but they weren’t hiring now either. Jared cursed himself for working under the table all these years. An unemployment check would at least help pay the rent and the truck payment. He wished like hell he’d never bought the truck either. It wasn’t anywhere near new, but they were still eight grand in debt for it. Carla had argued against the vehicle, thinking they should drive the damn Explorer until it finally died. Why didn’t he listen to her? She was almost always right.

Jared checked his watch. Carla would have left for work by now. He drove home, racking his brain for a way to make a little money. Even if he sold the truck, he’d be lucky to just get out from under the payments. And he would still need transportation. He knew Carla would say he could sell the guns. Jared’s jaw locked up at the thought. They were his father’s hunting rifles and all he had left of the old man. What were they worth? A month’s rent? He shook his head. If they ended up homeless he’d consider it.

Jared’s thoughts jumped to Roy and his nice house by the river and his fat little savings account. Part of the reason Roy had a lot of money was because he cheated everyone. He cheated the government out of taxes, and he cheated his employees by not insuring them. Jared thought he shaved their hours sometimes too. The little fucker had laid him off instead of that lazy-ass Tyler. Jared was glad he hadn’t drunk any coffee at the restaurant. He could feel his heart pounding with stress.

At home he pulled a spiral notebook from his bottom dresser drawer and a piece of plain white paper from the printer tray, then took them to the kitchen table. He labeled the top of the paper
Job Search
. The notebook had already been labeled
Roy Engall
. He started the job search page by listing three painting companies to go see and five chain restaurants that might have some turnover. His thoughts kept coming back to Roy and what a cheap bastard he could be sometimes. Jared had to buy all his own tools, including a sprayer. The worst of it was the lack of insurance though. No one who painted houses under the table expected health insurance as a job benefit, but he expected to be insured for on-the-job injuries. Roy Engall didn’t even cover those.

Jared had only recently come across this sobering information. Six months ago, Manny had fallen off a ladder after being dive-bombed by bird, breaking his collarbone and two little bones in his right hand. Roy had insisted on driving Manny to the hospital rather than calling an ambulance. Manny had never come back to work, but months later, Jared ran into him at a grocery store. Manny told him Roy didn’t cover his employees with accident insurance. Roy had offered to pay half the hospital bill, then laid Manny off. Not being a legal citizen, Manny had not filed a complaint or threatened to sue.

Jared filled in more details on the page with neat, printed letters. He wasn’t good with cursive, but his printing was better than most. He knew he should probably type the list on the computer and save it in a file, but he didn’t type worth a damn. Besides, he thought best with a pencil in his hand. He got up to look at the calendar, found the first Monday in October and wrote
October 6
as the day of Manny’s accident.

It was illegal to run a painting crew without accident insurance, wasn’t it? Roy could lose his business license if the state found out. Shame filled Jared’s stomach. He didn’t want to put Roy out of business; he just wanted enough cash to get by while he found other work. He just wanted to keep his family together and happy. A lot of employers gave severance packages when they laid someone off. Wasn’t he entitled to one?

Jared tapped his pencil. He knew there was more to Roy’s dealings. If you worked for someone long enough, you learned all kinds of things about their character and business practices. He remembered something else. Roy sometimes cheated his customers too. If he thought the homeowner wasn’t well informed, he bought cheap paint and charged him for expensive paint. If someone notified all those cheated customers, they could sue Roy. The question was: What would Roy be willing to pay to keep Jared quiet about all of it?

Jackson glanced at the list of Roy Engall’s alleged infractions, then climbed out of his unmarked blue Impala. A half block away, the river scurried by with a soft summer song. The Engalls lived in the Centennial area, with an address in Eugene, but closer to sister-city Springfield’s downtown. In this neighborhood, nobody cared about zip codes. They were in their own little world where the streets were wide, the homes were spacious, and the sound of the river lulled them to sleep on summer evenings.

Jackson strode past a blue Toyota FJ Cruiser in the driveway on his way to the front door. A tall woman with shoulder-length red hair opened it before he could knock. “What can I do for you?” Her eyes were wary with a hint of anger.

“I’m Detective Jackson with the Eugene Police. I’m here to see Roy Engall.”

“Why?”

“I need to ask him a few questions. Is he here?” Jackson wanted to see if she would cover for her husband’s absence the night before.

“I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

“What is your name and your relationship to Roy Engall?”

“I’m Noni Engall and Roy is my lousy husband.”

While Jackson wondered how to use the information to win this woman’s confidence, fear transformed her face. “Is Roy okay? Was he in a car accident?”