As Emory parked in front of the Godfrey Tower, Jeff craned his neck to look through the windshield and scaled the wall with his eyes to the square of plywood near the top. “They haven’t fixed the window yet.”
“They probably have to special order the glass.”
The two men made their way up to the fifth-floor TVA office. In searching for Frank Belcher, they found that he was already moving from his cubicle into Corey Melton’s former office. As the PIs entered his new office, Frank opened the blinds to reveal a window with a view of the building next door.
Emory cleared his throat. “Mr. Belcher?”
Frank’s narrow shoulders jumped an inch above his slender body – a frailty the padding in his suit jacket couldn’t conceal. He turned toward them, the new light exaggerating the contrasts at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know why Corey kept these blinds closed. It was always like a dungeon in here. If you’re looking for Darren, he’s at our corporate office today.”
“We didn’t come to see him.” Jeff took a seat. “We’re here to see you.”
Frank threw a hand to his chest. “Me? Why me?”
Emory sat beside his partner. “We figured you were closer to Corey than anyone else here. You did work for him.”
“Yes, but…” Frank stopped himself.
“You were just colleagues and not friends? I understand.” Jeff tilted his head toward his partner. “We’re the same way.” He gave Emory a wink once Frank wasn’t looking.
“That makes it sound like I didn’t like him. I did like him, and I’ll miss him.”
Emory pointed to the nameplate on the desk with Frank’s name and new title. “Interim manager. You had that made pretty quickly.”
Frank’s eyes followed Emory’s finger. “No, it’s a couple of years old. I was the interim manager after the last manager left, before Corey took the job. Actually, it’s out of date now because Darren just told me I’m officially the new manager. No interim.”
“Congratulations,” said Emory.
Jeff nodded toward the floor, to a box from which protruded another nameplate. “Is that Corey’s stuff?”
“That’s all his personal belongings. I’ll have them sent to his wife.”
“We can take them to her.” Jeff pulled the box closer and examined it. Despite Frank’s description, there was nothing personal inside, unless the possum skeleton was a family pet – just office junk like the nameplate, business cards, a couple of framed photos, etc.
Emory continued with the questioning. “How long have you worked here?”
Frank took a seat at his new desk. “I started out as a lineman seventeen years ago.”
Jeff looked up from the box. “A lineman?”
“I hung and maintained power lines.”
“Seriously?” Jeff let a chuckle slip. “I thought those guys were big so they could lug around those heavy lines. No offense, but you don’t look that tough.”
Despite Jeff’s hollow preface, Frank did appear to take offense to the remark. He pinched his lips into a dime-thin slit before they again parted to speak. “To be truthful, I wasn’t very good at it. I think the supervisor who hired me did so out of pity. I did that work for almost a year before I finally got an office job here and worked my way up.”
“Commendable,” said Emory.
“We understand Corey worked here for six years. Was he your boss that whole time?” asked Jeff, although he already knew the answer.
Emory noticed a micro-expression of disdain on Frank’s face just before he answered. “No.”
“What position did he have when he started?”
Frank’s gaze dropped to his desk. “My intern.”
“Ouch!” Jeff released a provocative laugh. “That must’ve hurt!”
“He didn’t go directly from intern to manager. After a few months, he was promoted to a coordinator in another department. And then he became a specialist and then an assistant manager. He came back to this department when he was offered the manager job.”
Jeff held up his hands. “Let me see if I get the math right here. After fifteen years, you had worked your way up to interim manager, but then they end up giving the permanent job to someone who had worked here for four years – not to mention someone who used to report to you as an intern. How lousy were you at the job?”
Frank, whose cadaverous face now blushed to life, raised his voice for the first time. “It wasn’t like that! I was told from the beginning back then I wouldn’t be made the permanent manager.”
Jeff told him, “I’d be thinking who do I have to sleep with to move up like that. Am I right?”
“I never thought that.”
Jeff continued, “Still, to choose Corey over you. That’d piss me off.”
“Of course, I was upset!” Frank slapped his desk. “Who wouldn’t be?”
Emory beat Jeff to the next question. “What’s changed?”
“I’ve proven I can handle the job.”
Jeff’s empathy was short-lived. “Good thing Corey’s gone now, isn’t it?”
“Surely you don’t think I had a thing to do with his death.” Frank removed his glasses and placed them on the desk, perhaps so the PIs could see the earnestness in his eyes. “I had my differences with Corey, but I generally liked him. He was a great guy.” Frank put his glasses back on. “So he was murdered?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Frank nodded in agreement at Emory’s answer. “I didn’t buy that he killed himself. He never seemed depressed at all to me. He was always joking around. Of course, comedy can hide depression.”
“If he were murdered, who would be at the top of your list of suspects?” Emory prepared to type the names into his phone.
Frank fumbled through a stack of documents on the desk to retrieve a file folder. “Sometimes in our work, we get nasty notes and voicemails, along with the occasional threat. I remember one voicemail Corey received recently that was especially troubling to me, although I don’t think he took it seriously.” He held up a document from the folder. “Here it is. It’s a transcript of a voicemail from a Peter West.”
The PIs pinged each other with furtive glances when they heard the name of the clothing sales clerk they had questioned the day before. Jeff asked, “Could I see that?”
He took it from Frank and read it aloud. “This is third message I’ve left for you. I’d appreciate a fucking call back! You son of a bitch think you can steal my house because you send me a letter?! Damn coward can’t even talk to me on the phone? I’ll come down and talk to you personally!”
Emory’s eyes went from the letter back to Frank. “Did he actually come down?”
“Sure enough. I know Corey was scared, but he stayed calm and let the guy yell at him until security showed up to kick him out.”
“That was the end of it?”
“As far as I know. Honestly, this Peter guy should’ve been happy. His home was a rusty double-wide trailer – not worth the money we gave him for it. In fact, based on the cursory report we did before acquiring that whole tract for the windfarm, it’s all worthless land. Except for two of the houses, the others have minimal value. They have great views but nothing worth dying over.”
Jeff handed the transcript back to Frank. “How was the tract chosen?”
“Meteorologists help us determine wind patterns for an area, and then a cursory assessment of the land is done using publicly available information.”
“You don’t go check out the land?”
“In most cases, we’re not allowed on the property until escrow closes, so we can’t order a geologic assessment and survey of the land until then.”
Jeff couldn’t hide his surprise. “You don’t even know what you have exactly until after you’ve bought it?”
“The cursory assessment almost always has reliable information to determine the property’s appropriateness for the particular project. The physical survey gives a comprehensive report that lets us know the kind of ground we have underneath and the best location to build on.”
Emory scooched closer to the desk to look at the file folder. “Could we see the survey report?”
Frank sifted through the papers in the folder. “It’s not here. Escrow closed the day before Corey died. He probably didn’t get a chance to order it yet. Add that to my to-do list.”
Jeff popped out of his chair and grabbed Emory by the arm. “We’ll be in touch, Frank.”
Emory followed Jeff out of the office. “What’s the rush?”
“No rush. I just want to get back to Peter West before I lose the urge to punch him in the face for lying to us.”
“Well you’ll just have to control yourself. I have more questions for Frank.” Emory took a single step before Jeff grabbed him again. “Let go of me.”
“Another reason we should leave.” Jeff nodded toward Wayne, sauntering through the main entrance.