Nailed: An Alex Harris Mystery (The Alex Harris Mysteries Book 8) Page 5

  I had parked my car under a big shade tree when I arrived at the Wickersham home, but I had been in the house a long time and the sun had moved. I rolled down my car window trying to get the hot out. Yes, my car has roll down windows and no CD player. It was going on twenty years old, but I loved it and it got good gas mileage. It did, however, have air conditioning, and I turned that on a couple miles later and rolled the window back up.

  Connecticut Custom Homes was in Fairfield, so I hopped on the turnpike and turned my thoughts to Jenna Sanjari. If she was really planning to leave Victor, then why did she go away with him for the weekend, especially considering her sister had a bad feeling about the whole thing? Was she hoping to rekindle a long-ago-burned-out fire? Or maybe she didn’t have a choice. It seemed that what Victor wanted, Victor got. If only she had listened to Maddi and hadn’t gone with him. I’m sure Maddi had uttered those words more than once since her sister’s death. But then perhaps Victor would have found another way to kill his wife.

  I took the exit Shirley had written down in her notes, and followed her directions until I got to an area with some rather nice-looking two-story office buildings. I thought I’d be arriving at a more industrial setting, maybe even a construction site, but this was certainly more upscale. The parking lot had lots of trees and I was able to find a cool spot. Of course, nothing could be done about the humidity, but at least my car door wouldn’t be the temperature of lava when I returned.

  Connecticut Custom Homes was on the second floor, and I took the stairs in an effort to burn off some of the ham-sandwich calories. At the top of the landing, I turned right and followed the signs down the corridor to the last suite. The double doors were wide open and I entered into a tastefully done lobby. The carpet was plush and a deep nautical blue. The furniture was dark wood and the seat cushions were done in the same color as the carpet. On one wall were several prints of ancient nautical maps and on the other were professionally photographed pictures of stunning homes, which I assumed had been built by Connecticut Custom Homes.

  “Good afternoon. How may I help you?” a middle-aged woman with pale red hair and brown eyes asked me over the rim of her eyeglasses.

  “Good afternoon. My name is Alex Harris and I was hoping to speak with Mr. Hachmeister on a personal matter.”

  “He’s with some people right now.”

  “Do you know how long he’ll be?” I asked.

  The woman lowered her voice, though there was no one else in the lobby but the two of us. “He’s being interviewed, actually. A friend of his was killed recently. Just horrible. They found him on one of our sites. I don’t know how long they’ll keep him.”

  Just my luck. I felt I might get some good information out of this woman, but now wasn’t the time because I was afraid at any moment my husband might just walk into the lobby.

  Chapter 15

  Mr. Hachmeister wasn’t being interviewed. He was being interrogated, and I knew who was doing the interrogation. It was bound to happen, running into John during one of my investigations, but he had to know that with my sister involved there was nothing he could say or do to keep me out of it. But that didn’t mean I wanted to run into him right now.

  “I don’t mind waiting,” I said to the receptionist. “Could you direct me to the rest room first?”

  “Back down the hall, third door on your left.”

  I high-tailed it out of there before John came out into the lobby. Of course, maybe it was someone else from the department, but even so, they all knew me and would have John on the phone immediately. My husband’s colleagues seemed to derive great pleasure in teasing him about my involvement with the murders in our little part of Connecticut.

  I ducked into the restroom and leaned against the wall right next to the door. With any luck I would be able to hear if someone walked by and could peek out and see who it was. I stood against the wall for six minutes wondering how much longer I could stay in here without the receptionist coming to check on me. And wasn’t she just a little Chatty Cathy letting it slip out that Mr. Sanjari was killed on one of their properties? I made a mental note to keep her as a possible source of gossip if my investigation led me anywhere close to Mr. Hachmeister.

  I heard voices. Male voices. As they drew closer I recognized one as that of Jim Maroni, John’s partner. I peeked out and saw my husband’s back retreating down the hall. I watched until he and Jim started down the stairs and then counted to ten and headed back to Connecticut Custom Homes.

  “I was getting worried about you. I thought maybe you left,” Chatty Cathy said.

  “No, I just needed to make a phone call. Is Mr. Hachmeister still tied up?”

  “No, he can see you for a few minutes. Let me just buzz him.”

  Chatty Cathy pressed a couple of buttons and announced me. When she hung up she directed me through a glass door and told me it was the first office on the right.

  Gary Hachmeister was a tall man with a head completely lacking hair. It was a good look for him, and I had no idea if his bald head was an act of genetics or if he shaved it. Either way, it suited him well. He was dressed in a pair of suit pants and a blue-and-white checked shirt with the tie loosened around his thick neck and the sleeves of the shirt rolled up. He stood when I came into the room.

  “How can I help you, Ms. Harris, was it? Suzette said you wanted to speak with me about a personal matter?”

  The first thing I felt like saying to Mr. Hachmeister was, “eyes up here, buddy!” Do men really think we like being leered at? I took an instant dislike to the man.

  I was wearing a simple cotton black short-sleeved blouse and had the first couple of buttons undone. I felt like reaching up and buttoning the blouse up to my throat, but instead I took a seat and smiled.

  “I’m here about Mr. Sanjari. Victor Sanjari. I understand the two of you had business interests together.”

  Mr. Hachmeister sat back down and looked at me across the desk. “We did? Where did you hear that?”

  “So you knew Vic?” I was totally winging it because Shirley hadn’t been able to weed out exactly what the relationship was between the two men, though she promised me she would continue her search.

  “I’m sorry, but who are you again? Does this have anything to do with our services?”

  “I’m here because Mr. Sanjari was killed shortly after he and my sister had a confrontation. The police are looking at her as a viable suspect—”

  “And of course no sister of yours could possibly do such a thing. Look, Ms. Har—”

  I cut him off. “That’s right. She couldn’t. I understand that Mr. Sanjari was killed on one of your construction sites, so you’ll have to forgive me for thinking that perhaps one of your workers or maybe even you might be a better target for the police to investigate. They were just here, correct?” I gave him my most beguiling smile.

  Mr. Hachmeister steepled his fingers and smiled at me across the desk. “I like your spunk. You’re not by any chance looking for a job in project management, are you? You’d keep my crew in line, I’ll give you that.”

  “Thank you, but no, I’m not looking for a job. Just some information. So, can you help me?” I looked past Mr. Hachmeister through the window behind him. The office building was surrounded by a wooded area and this office had a nice view of it. I bet it was spectacular in the autumn.

  Gary Hachmeister leaned forward and put his arms on the table, clasping his hands together. “What do you want to know? Vic worked for the county as an inspector. He also did side work for a few realtors. People need to be smart and have a home they’re thinking about buying inspected first. I’ve known him for a long time. He’s inspected a lot of my jobs over the years.”

  “Did you two get along?”

  “As long as he passed all our work, we did.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, so I didn’t say anything and waited for Mr. Hachmeister to fill the awkward silence.

  “Truth is we do good work. Great work, so Vic d
idn’t have much to find on any of our jobs, but if he did, we got it fixed quickly. He knew the contractors I use, knew I used only the best. I think he liked inspecting our jobs.”

  “Mr. Hachmeister, do you have any idea why he was killed on one of your sites?”

  “Gary, please, and no, I don’t. We weren’t working out there yesterday. We’re at a standstill while we wait for the windows to be delivered and the owner to make up his mind about a possible change in the kitchen layout. My guys were working on another site a mile away, so there was no one there.”

  “Then who found him?”

  “The owner. And one of my guys. The owner called and asked if someone could meet him at the site to look at the kitchen again. Guy is driving us crazy. His wife, actually. She keeps changing her mind about the kitchen layout. First she wants an island, then she doesn’t. Then she wants an open plan, then maybe not.” Gary shook his head “They’re having us build them a small cottage on a piece of land they own. They live and work in the city and wanted a small weekend retreat. A job this small shouldn’t be taking this long. We told the owner that this was holding everything up. We can’t order the cabinets yet and they’re custom so they’ll take a while to make. Same with the soapstone countertops. Anyway, they found Vic and called the police.”

  “What about the nail gun?” I asked.

  “What about it?”

  “Did it belong to one of your crew?”

  “I have no idea. You’ll have to ask the police. But stuff gets left around at the end of the day even though they’re supposed to clean up the site.”

  “The police say Mr. Sanjari was killed the night before, around nine. Do you have any idea why he would have been on the site at night?”

  “He wouldn’t be. All my guys are gone by about five-thirty every night, and he certainly wasn’t there then. All I could think of is that he left something behind from when he was there inspecting the electrical work last Friday and maybe came back for it.”

  I couldn’t think of anything else to ask Gary at this time, and I was tired of his eyes traveling down to my chest every time he looked at me.

  I thanked him for his time and left. So far all I had was a gut feeling that Victor Sanjari killed his wife, but that wasn’t going to help me get Sam off the hook. I didn’t feel right speaking to the grieving mother so soon after she lost her son. I sat in my car under the tree running thoughts through my head when I saw Gary Hachmeister leave the building. I looked at my watch. Almost quitting time. I watched Gary get into his car, a BMW in case you wanted to know, and waited. Twelve minutes later Chatty Cathy walked outside.

  Chapter 16

  I was suddenly presented with a dilemma. Did I walk up to her right here in the parking lot, very much looking like a stalker, or did I follow her and hope she stopped somewhere before heading home? By the time these thoughts ran through my head, Chatty Cathy was already in her car and backing out of the space. The decision had been taken out of my hands, and I was now following the woman down the street, albeit at a good distance. Was following and stalking the same thing?

  We were almost to the on ramp for the turnpike, and I crossed my fingers that Chatty Cathy didn’t hop on and head for New York. She didn’t. She kept driving along, seemingly not in any hurry, and finally pulled into a shopping center with a Whole Foods. Perfect.

  I waited for her to enter the store and then followed her. I watched her go down a long aisle, and then grabbed a cart and circled around so that I would be headed straight toward her coming from the other direction. Now all I had to do was hope that she noticed me. She did.

  “Oh my, isn’t this a coincidence.”

  I gave her a blank look like I was trying to recall where I knew her from. “Oh, right! Hello. I see you like Whole Foods too. We don’t have one in Indian Cove so I thought I’d stop here and pick up a few things.”

  “Don’t you just love this store? They have the best beef and with this heat, my husband wants to barbeque. Fine with me. Now I don’t have to cook.”

  We were only one aisle over from a small café area the store had set up.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  “It’s Suzette.”

  “Suzette. Listen, I’m so thirsty and I also wanted to pick up some pastries to take home. Would you like to join me for a drink? I’d really like to thank you for getting me in to see Mr. Hachmeister without an appointment. I didn’t want to have to come back.”

  Suzette smiled brightly. “I would love to. They make a wonderful mango iced tea.”

  We made our way to the café and I went up to the counter and got two iced teas and a few pastries to go. I also picked up a loaf of their full grain crusty bread for dinner. I agreed with Suzette’s husband—it was too hot to cook and another sandwich sounded good.

  “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 perf
ect! 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.”

  Chapter 17

  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.