by D. B. Henson
Table of Contents
DEED TO DEATH
For Tim
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DEED TO DEATH
D. B. Henson
This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, businesses, organizations, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First edition published as an eBook April 2010.
Copyright © 2010 by D. B. Henson
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the author.
For Tim
who always believes.
CHAPTER 1
Alvin Harney stretched his left arm out of the window and tapped the beat to an old Rolling Stones tune on the truck door. He bobbed his head as he sang the song off-key. There was no working radio in the truck, just a melody in his head and the crisp morning breeze in his face.
Except during a thunderstorm or hard downpour, he always drove with his window open. Even in winter when frost coated the Tennessee hills and most people cranked their heat up as high as it would go, Alvin kept the driver’s side window of his white Ford pickup rolled down. The cold never seemed to bother his fifty-year-old bones.
It made him feel alive.
This morning the air felt even fresher than normal. A heavy spring rain had fallen during the night. A cleansing deluge that hammered the grey dust from the surface of the gravel and forged deep puddles across the road leading to the construction site.
The pickup rocked as Alvin splashed through the pools, the spray coating his arm with a fine brown mist. At the end of the road loomed a massive skeleton of steel and concrete, which under his guidance, would soon be transformed into the largest and most luxurious hotel in the posh Nashville suburb of Blanton Hills.
Alvin was usually the first to arrive at the site. It gave him the opportunity to mentally review the progress from the previous day and then make adjustments to ensure the project remained on schedule. Not the big wigs’ schedule, dreamed up in a board room somewhere. His own schedule. Honed into shape from years of hard work and experience.
He took pride in his ability to bring a project in well ahead of the expected completion date, a trait that had garnered him a sterling reputation in addition to fat bonus checks.
Today however, he was not the first to arrive.
Alvin wheeled his pickup into the parking area next to a black Dodge. Nico Williams sat on the tailgate eating a biscuit sandwich, a Hardee’s sack in his lap. He swung his legs in unison with each chew.
Nico was new on the job. This was his third day. At first glance, he was not what you would expect a construction worker to look like. But for a man of around 250 pounds, he was extremely agile.
Agile and quiet.
On two separate occasions, Alvin had turned around to find Nico standing directly behind him, close enough to butt heads, never once having heard him approach. Nico reminded him of a big yellow tomcat stalking its prey.
Alvin never liked cats.
He turned off the ignition, got out and slammed the pickup’s door. The wet gravel crunched under his work boots.
As Alvin rounded the corner of the truck bed, he nodded at Nico. “How’s it going?”
“Can’t complain.”
As Alvin passed, Nico stuffed the last of the biscuit into his mouth, wadded up the paper sack, and tossed it into the back of his truck. Leaving his tailgate down, he followed Alvin to the double gates in the security fence.
Alvin removed the padlock and let the gates swing open. “What got you here so early?”
“Just trying to make a good impression on the boss.”
Nico’s Cheshire grin revealed bits of what looked like either steak or sausage between his tobacco-stained teeth.
“Uh huh. Well, here comes your chance.” Alvin gestured toward the silver BMW X5 making its way down the access road. “That’s Scott Chadwick, he owns all this.”
Alvin waved at the SUV as it crawled through the gates, but the hardhat-clad Chadwick stared straight ahead, a cell phone glued to his ear.
“Seems like a real nice guy.”
Alvin watched the BMW disappear around the corner of the hotel. “I imagine he’s just got a lot on his mind. He’s getting married in a few days.”
“You don’t say.”
“Yeah, that’s probably her on the phone. Reciting her honey-do list.”
Nico pulled a red bandanna from his pocket and tied it around his blonde crew cut before slipping on his hardhat. “You married, Harney?”
“I used to be.”
Alvin hooked the padlock onto the open gate and headed for the construction trailer.
The trailer was one of three at the site used for offices and meeting space. The interior was small but adequate. A metal desk, a blueprint cabinet and a bank of file drawers, topped with a copier and fax machine, filled the left side of the room.
On the right, a card table and four folding chairs were set up in front of a kitchenette complete with a coffee maker, microwave, and miniature fridge. The plot plan and drawings of the front, rear, and side elevations of the hotel plastered the walls.
Alvin fired up the coffee pot and then settled at his desk. Through the open door, he could see Nico standing near one of the portable toilets talking on his cell phone.
Probably getting his own honey-do list.
Alvin checked his watch. He had about thirty minutes before the crews started trickling in. He opened his notebook to the day’s agenda. He was glad Scott Chadwick had arrived at the site early. They needed to go over several changes in the lobby’s interior.
The hotel was being fast-tracked, Alvin’s favorite type of project. He loved the challenge of coordinating all the phases of construction simultaneously. Considered risky by some, the project began with a preliminary design, and then the builder made modifications as the construction was completed.
In order to fast-track a building, you had to have a first rate architect. Otherwise, you could end up with the plumbing or electrical wiring in the wrong place. In Alvin’s eyes, Scott Chadwick was the best. Alvin had worked for a countless number of design/build firms before signing on with Chadwick & Shore, but none of the contractors had earned the level of respect he held for Chadwick.
The pungent aroma of the freshly brewe
d coffee permeated the trailer. Alvin glanced up and saw Nico standing at the door.
“You think you could spare a cup?” Nico asked.
Alvin checked his watch again. “Sure. Just don’t make it a habit.”
He filled three Styrofoam cups with the brew and handed one to Nico. He placed the other two on the trailer steps along with his notebook while he closed and locked the door, then he set out to find Scott Chadwick.
The hotel consisted of a twelve-story tower flanked by two five-story wings set at forty-five degree angles. Designed to cater to an elite crowd, the rooms were mostly suites, each equipped with a working fireplace and elaborate baths. The hotel would also house two gourmet restaurants and an upscale nightclub.
Alvin walked into the lobby area expecting to see the building’s owner, but he wasn’t there.
“Scott?” Alvin’s voice echoed through the empty structure.
Maybe he was still outside.
Alvin crossed the lobby and peered out the doors that opened onto the rear courtyard and pool area. He could see Chadwick’s car parked about a hundred feet away.
Still carrying the coffee, Alvin stepped onto the plank that served as a makeshift ramp from the door of the lobby to the ground.
He was halfway down when he saw Scott Chadwick.
The coffee cups slipped from his hands.
The scalding liquid soaked through the front of his jeans, but Alvin didn’t feel a thing.
CHAPTER 2
Toni Matthews dialed the number for the fifth time.
“This is Scott Chadwick; you’ve reached my voice mail.”
Why didn’t he answer his cell phone? He wasn’t answering his private line at the office either. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Seven twenty-three.
Did he have an early meeting this morning? She couldn’t remember.
“Hi, it’s me. Guess what? I left my briefcase in your car last night and the file for my nine o’clock closing is in there. Call me as soon as you get this message. Love you.”
There was no way she could show up for the Barton to Collins closing without that file. Everything was in it – the termite inspection, the septic letter, even the keys to the house. And this was one property transfer she really didn’t want to postpone.
The sale of the Bartons’ home was her final order of business for the next three weeks. She wanted to get it over with as soon as possible so she could spend the rest of the afternoon concentrating on last minute wedding details.
It was hard to believe she would be married in less than seventy-two hours.
There was a time when Toni was certain she would remain single forever. Not that she hadn’t had meaningful relationships before. She’d had strong feelings for several different men during the course of her twenty-nine years. But in the past, she had always managed to keep an invisible wall around her heart. She cared for them, but never let them get too close.
Then she met Scott and everything changed.
Scott was the only man who had ever truly understood her. He had never tried to change her or mold her into something he wanted her to be. Instead of stifling her independence, he acknowledged her freedom. She remained a whole person, never feeling like she was sacrificing a part of herself in order to be with him.
He never played games. His love was solid. Constant. He loved her as she was, for who she was. And when it came to loving him, for the first time in her life, she held nothing back.
Toni returned the phone to the nightstand and shifted her focus to the mahogany-framed photo on the left, taken the previous summer in Cozumel, Mexico. Four faces smiled back. Scott, deeply tanned with gold streaks in his sandy hair; Scott's business partner, Clint Shore, wearing sunglasses and holding up a Corona; Jill, Clint’s wife, lithe and blonde and beautiful as any runway model, and Toni sitting in the front.
The shot was definitely not her best picture.
No matter how plain she felt it made her look, oddly, it was one of Scott’s favorites. He said it showed her natural beauty – though she wasn’t convinced she had any. Still, he loved the look of her long auburn hair falling across her bare shoulders and the glow the sun had painted on her nose and cheeks.
But Toni liked the photo for a different reason.
It was a reminder of the best summer of her life.
Clint and Jill owned a house on the beach and they had all spent two perfect weeks snorkeling, sunning, and relaxing. On the last night, after a quiet dinner for two, Scott had asked her to marry him.
The phone rang.
“Scott?”
“Toni? It’s Eva Collins.”
“Hello, Eva. How are you?”
“Exhausted. We’ve been driving all night. It’s a long trip from Savannah, especially with three kids and two U-hauls.”
Toni had met the Collins’ children. They were aged two, four, and five years. All boys. “I can imagine.”
“We just wanted to check in and make sure that everything is still on schedule.”
“Everything’s fine. The Bartons moved out over the weekend and I had the carpets cleaned yesterday. You can move in right after closing.”
“I knew you would take care of everything. You’re the best real estate agent we’ve ever worked with. Thank you so much.”
Toni hung up the phone.
It was already seven-thirty. She had to get that file. Knowing Scott, he was probably out at the hotel site. He’d practically been living there the past few weeks.
He must have left his cell phone in the car. If that were true, he would have no way of knowing she was trying to reach him, and it could be hours before he checked his messages.
She would just have to take a chance and drive out there.
It was eight o’clock by the time Toni reached the construction site. As she made the sharp turn onto the access street, a white van came barreling down the center of the road toward her. She jerked the wheel and veered off the gravel, her right tires plowing into fresh mud.
“Idiot. Stay on your side of the road. You’re going to kill somebody.”
After the van had safely passed, Toni pulled back onto the gravel and continued down the road. There were three police cars in front of the hotel and a uniformed officer at the gate. The construction crews were huddled in groups a few feet away.
She left her car in the parking area and walked over to one of the workers.
“What’s going on? Why are the police here?”
“A guy did a swan dive off the top floor.”
“You’re kidding me.”
The worker shook his head. “I wish I was.”
No wonder Scott hadn’t answered his phone. He had far more important things to deal with. “When did it happen?”
“Early. I got here around six. The police were already here. They won’t let anybody in.”
“Did you know him?”
“Not well, but yeah. It was one of the guys that owns the construction company.”
Toni’s stomach lurched. “What?”
“It was the Chadwick guy.”
Toni’s throat went dry. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t even speak.
She ran toward the gate. The police officer on guard caught her before she could get through.
“I’m sorry miss. You can’t go in there yet.”
“Let me go. You don’t understand.”
She jerked her arm from his grip and tried to push past him, but he held her back.
“Just calm down –”
“No, dammit. I said, let me go!”
“Toni!” Clint called to her from the other side of the fence.
“Clint, they said it’s Scott. It’s not true, it can’t be.”
Clint nodded at the officer. “Let her in.”
“I’ll have to get her name.”
“This is Toni Matthews, Scott Chadwick’s fiancée.”
The officer stepped aside and Toni rushed through the gate. Clint pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around he
r.
“Sweetheart, I am so sorry.”
“No!” She pushed him away. “Scott is not dead. I know he’s not. It has to be some kind of mistake. Tell me he’s not dead Clint. Tell me!”
She searched Clint’s face.
Instead of reassurance, she found the truth she wasn’t ready to believe.
Hot tears spilled from her eyes, scorching her cheeks. Her knees began to buckle. Clint caught her and held her close, gently rocking her from side to side. Violent sobs racked her body.
After what seemed like hours, she managed to catch her breath. “I want to see him.”
“What?”
“I have to see him.”
“Toni, honey, he’s not here.”
The van. It must have been the medical examiner. “Then I’m going to the medical examiner’s office or wherever they took him.”
“No, not now. Not yet.”
“I’m going.”
Toni had started to head back toward the gate when she caught sight of a familiar sandy-haired figure standing a few yards away, his back toward them. Relief flooded through her.
She pushed past Clint and ran toward the man. “Scott!”
Clint was right behind her. “Toni, wait.”
She grabbed the man’s arm and he turned around. It was Brian Chadwick, Scott’s younger brother.
“Toni, this is detective Lewis,” Clint said. “He just wants to ask you a few questions about Scott.”
She was sitting at a small table in one of the construction trailers. Someone, she wasn’t sure who, had put a glass of water in front of her. She stared at the Styrofoam cup, but left it untouched.
Clint moved behind her chair and put his hands on her shoulders. His fingers barely registered. Her body was numb. Nothing seemed real. It all felt like a dream.
She wanted to shake herself. Wake up from this nightmare. Open her eyes and see Scott lying beside her.
“Miss Matthews?”
The detective stood expectantly before her. He was a middle-aged man dressed in plain clothes with thinning hair and kind brown eyes.
“Yes. Hello.”
She shook the detective’s hand without rising. Her movements were mechanical, made without thought. Her voice sounded hollow in her own ears.
