Dying Echo A Grim Reaper Mystery - By Judy Clemens Page 0,100
and run by one guy?”
Thornville swayed on his feet. Eric grabbed him and led him to the chair behind the desk.
Casey pointed at the computer. “See what you can find out for us.”
“Please,” Eric added.
Thornville blinked some more. “But I don’t know—”
Casey leaned over him. “It’s called research.”
“Why are you being so mean to me?” Thornville whined.
“Because you sold us out today.”
“But I don’t know you, and I do know Randy.”
“Yes, you know that he’s a conniving little crook, and hangs out with even worse ones. You’re the one who said his brothers don’t even like him.”
“I never said—”
“Type!” Casey said.
He began typing.
“Now I see what you mean when you say you’re going to be nicer,” Eric said to Casey.
She smiled.
“What do you want to know?” Thornville said.
“I want to see it for myself. Who officially owns Hometown Interiors?”
He was able to find the business, way down in some deep recesses of businesses whose sole activity was paying enough fees and taxes they remained legal.
“Well?”
Thornville cleared his throat. “It’s owned by a corporation called Private Boats, Inc.”
Casey couldn’t breathe. “And who owns that business?”
Thornville typed some more. After a while, he swallowed loudly. “Randy Pinkterton. And Les Danvers. And…Marcus Flatt.”
“Well, what do you know? Isn’t that interesting? What about work history of our lovely home repair business?”
Thornville went back to Hometown Interiors, and found that the hibernating business had somehow managed to rack up several work payments in the past month, after years of remaining stagnant.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Casey said. “How they decided to get back into the workforce so suddenly?”
“What details can you get us?” Eric asked.
“None. It’s private business activity.”
“You can’t see who their customers were?”
“Not without getting into their files, and before you ask, I don’t know how to do that.” He flinched, as if afraid of Casey’s reaction.
“That’s no problem,” Casey said. “There’s an easier way. Eric, may I borrow your phone?”
“Of course.” He handed it to her, their politeness seeming to make Thornville even more nervous.
Casey dialed the business number on the screen and smiled at Thornville as she waited for it to connect. After several rings a man answered. “Yeah?”
She continued smiling at Thornville. “Hello, I’m calling to talk with someone about some work I need done.”
“Sorry,” the man said. “We’re scheduled through the winter. It will have to wait.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. No chance you could squeeze me in before then?”
“No can do.”
“Well, okay. How about—Is there any chance I could see some of your work to see if I want to wait for you? Could you put me in touch with one of your customers?”
“Look, lady, we can’t give out private information. We do good work. No complaints. Ask the Chamber of Commerce.”
“Good idea. Thank you. I’ll do just that.”
She hung up, still smiling. “How about that? They don’t have room for any new customers right now. They suggested I ask you for a reference. Why would they say that, do you think?”
Thornville shrank in his chair. “I really have no idea.”
“Nobody else has come calling, asking about them?”
He shook his head.
“Not even, say, the police in Colorado?”
His eyes filled, and tears shone in his eyes. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what they were asking. They asked if it was a legitimate business, and I said yes. That’s all. Because it is. And look, you can see for yourself that my database reports recent activity.” He angled the computer screen toward Casey, and he was right, she could see the work orders.
“I suppose this is what we were talking about earlier?” she said to Eric.
“I suppose it is. Easy as sweet potato pie to fake, as I believe they might say down here.”
Thornville dropped his head into his hands. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”
“No,” Casey said. “I don’t suppose you did know exactly what they were asking. But now you do.” She handed him Eric’s phone. “And now you are going to tell the cops exactly what you’ve found out.”
“I’m not sure—”
Casey snatched the phone from his hands and gave it to Eric. “How ’bout you make the call? Once you have the right person, Thornville here can start talking.” She dropped her hand onto Thornville’s shoulder, and he about leapt from the chair. She kept him in it.
Eric wasn’t able to connect with Detective Watts, but got someone on the line who would listen. He said they had the director of the Whitley, Texas, Chamber of Commerce on the line with information pertinent to the Alicia McManus case, and