“Anyone for coffee before we tackle our next interview?” Herc asked Val and me as we drove toward the address we had for Sterling Kuhl’s home.
“You might as well say yes, Val, even if it’s only been an hour since we had doughnuts and coffee at my place,” I said. This was par for the course with Herc’s investigative style, unless he was under the gun, no pun intended, to finish interrogations quickly.
“But—”
“I know,” I finished for her. “You’re not hungry or thirsty yet.”
“How do you ever make any progress if you keep stopping to imbibe or chow down?”
“It’s not like I need the joe,” Herc said as he pulled into a small coffee shop. “This is how I process information,” he said as we walked through the door.
“Is he serious?” she asked me while he went to order three coffees. No treats this time. We had to restrain ourselves on occasion.
“Observe for yourself.”
“At some point today, your mom and I will return to her place and do more intense reflection on everything we’ve learned so far about the victim,” he said, handing a paper cup to her and one to me before taking a seat. “But for now, we, I, need to unleash whatever’s currently on my mind. Join in when you want.”
She grabbed her coffee and settled back to listen.
“Okay, I’ll do this headline style to keep things short and focus on our last interview,” he said. “Perry Ludwig, self-made contractor, owns the business outright. That point’s critical, because it means he hasn’t had to justify any of his decisions to anyone except himself.”
“Surely the bank has some say,” Val said.
“I’m getting to that part, but you’re right. In the end, yes, he has to repay the bank. Until he gets to that point, though, even though he has people doing his planning and carrying out operations, in the end, he makes all the decisions. That gives him all the power, but it could also be his own undoing. From the numerous issues Fonseca found, that appears to be what happened.”
“Good overview, Herc,” I told him, not like he needed an attaboy, but he’d already moved beyond the headline mode and was becoming more professorial. I didn’t want him to lose Val.
But Herc continued. “Whether he successfully addressed all of Fonseca’s points or not is almost beside the point, because these changes caused slowdowns, which didn’t go over well with his clients. Word leaked out and damaged his reputation, which affected both his ongoing and future business.”
Val set down her coffee, appearing confused. “Is that important?”
“Yes. Why do you think that might not be the case?” Herc asked.
“I asked you first.”
“Yes, but I wanted you to figure out the answer for yourself.”
Val scowled but considered. At length she gave it a shot. “Okay, I’ll play. Most people aren’t killers at heart. To be prompted to take someone else’s life, there has to be a compelling reason. Something that is preventing you from moving on with your life or livelihood unless addressed. In this case, neither Fonseca’s personality nor his devotion to the rules were motive alone. What is key here is the fact that Ludwig saw his business going downhill.”
Herc studied her a beat before replying. “Very good. Based on that assessment, what is your conclusion?”
“I just told you,” she replied a little too defensively.
“No, all you described was what we already knew and why we pegged him as a suspect.”
“So he made a formal complaint.”
He continued to eye her like he was expecting her to figure out what he was getting at on her own. “Which, for the time being, addressed his concerns,” Herc said. “And even if the complaint was never addressed or worse, rejected, that wouldn’t have been enough on its own to make him want to kill the man.”
“Surely you’re not dismissing him as a suspect even before I have a chance to review his file?”
“No. So far we only have his word that his business was going downhill due to Fonseca’s decisions. Your review of his files should provide some clue about the credibility of his concerns. If you suspect something is missing, we can always subpoena the case file from the building inspection office.”
“Will we have to interview him again?” Val asked.
Herc finished his coffee and ran a nail down the side of the cup. “Maybe. But not now. You need to give those files a good read-through first. We’ll pay Mr. Ludwig a return visit if you find any discrepancies or anomalies or if we discover anything new in the rest of our investigation.”
I set down my empty container. “Everyone ready to meet Sterling Kuhl?”
Herc turned to Val. “Decided not to call this one in advance, since he’s most likely at his home. Can’t do much at his restaurant while it’s torn up.”
Herc’s hunch paid off. Kuhl came to the door immediately. “Saw you pull up. I know why you’re here, so you can cut through the preliminaries.”
Herc introduced us, explaining Val’s technical role.
“Come in, then. You’ve piqued my interest with this technical thing, although there’s not much to say beyond the fact that the dead guy ruined my business.”
The three of us took the seats he indicated before asking our questions.
Herc began. “Although we’ve got some background notes on your situation, Mr. Kuhl, we’d like your description of your relationship with Mortimer Fonseca.”
Kuhl remained standing behind a straight chair. “I only met him once, although I spoke with him on the phone several times. He didn’t come across as a particularly mean person, but he stuck to his guns no matter what alternatives I proposed.”
“Tell us what he rejected in particular,” I said, laying the groundwork for follow-up questions from Val.
Before replying, he slipped around the chair and sat. “I own the Sandpiper restaurant on Lower Manatee Road. My dad built it twenty years ago. That’s the only employment I’ve ever had, even in high school and college. He passed a couple years ago, and I inherited it outright. It offered a full menu, and even though he built up a loyal clientele over the years, it wasn’t bringing in the new generation. In response, I decided to change up the menu to feature less beef and pork and more fish and vegan entrees. A remodel of the interior came with that change. That’s when my problems began.”
“With Fonseca, you mean?” Herc asked.
“Before him. I hadn’t even thought of a major facelift for the place until a friend of mine suggested I consider a bit of new paint and wallpaper. I liked the place the way it was, the way it had been for years, the way that made me comfortable. But before I could tell her that, she broached her next idea, renovation. When I said, ‘What do you mean?’ she pointed to the layout, said I could probably increase my customer base if I knocked down a few walls to rearrange the tables.”
I stifled a smile. Val and I had been here ourselves more than once. Not that we’d worked on any restaurant remodels, but that’s how it always started. Someone, often one of us, remarked about how much more space there’d be if we could just knock down a wall or two.
“Then what happened?” Herc asked.
“Next thing I knew, she was suggesting someone who could envision a whole new ambience for the place. Her word. I should’ve rejected the suggestion outright, but she went ahead and wrote down a name and email address. Told me to contact this guy, tell him she’d recommended him and he’d give me a good deal. Never intended to go through with it until the guy stopped by to see me the next day. My good friend had taken it upon herself to contact him. I should’ve thanked him there and then and said thanks but no thanks, which I started to do, and then he held up this incredible graphic. Said he’d worked all night on it since he’d learned about the project.”
“Let me guess what happened then,” I said. “You made the mistake of checking out the sketch and fell in love with the idea of what the place could be with just some minor changes.”
Kuhl folded his hands and studied them. “If only it had been that simple. It wasn’t until I gave him the okay to proceed that he informed me he couldn’t help beyond the concept. I’d need a designer, possibly an architect or structural engineer, to draw up actual plans.”
Been there, done that. But apparently he hadn’t. I couldn’t help myself. I had to know what he did next. “I take it you found someone to draw up the plans.”
“As it turned out, the kid had a friend who was in his first year of architectural training and needed a project for one of his classes. My good luck, huh?” He gave a half chuckle. “At least it seemed that way at the time.”
“But it wasn’t lucky?” Herc asked.
“Right on. In fact, it was just the beginning of a long downward spiral of bad luck.”
As much as I wanted to get to the end of this story, Kuhl’s descent into renovation hell was fascinating. “How’s that? Did the guy who did the plans not work out?”
“That’s putting it mildly. He meant well, but a week after we signed the contract he insisted on because his prof had required such things, the guy, not the prof, was in a car accident. He was laid up in the hospital a couple weeks, but the worst part of his accident for me was that he broke his right arm. The prof gave him a bye, but I couldn’t, so I inherited another student who already had a project but was willing to take on mine for the right price.”
It didn’t take a fortune-teller to know what must’ve happened next, but we let him spell it out for us.
Kuhl continued after taking a breath. “My renovation project took second place in this guy’s priorities. The more I pushed him to complete the plans, the less important my project became, to the point where I finally confronted him and demanded he hand over what he’d done so far. That’s when I learned he had nothing to show me. Since I hadn’t signed a contract with him and hadn’t paid him any money yet, I didn’t have much leverage.”
“But you must’ve had some kind of plans in order for the bank to give you a loan?” Herc asked.
Kuhl looked away a moment. “Found someone with an architectural background on the internet. Since I still had my own copy of the illustration, I sent it to them, and they took it from there.”
Val had held back until now, but she could keep quiet no longer. “Surely you checked out that person’s credentials?”
“Of course.” He sounded offended. “He sent me a resume immediately after I contacted him.”
“And you verified everything?” Val asked.
“Well, uh, no. He had a website and all. Figured he was legit.”
His shoulders had risen with Val’s second question. Time for me to jump in before he clammed up on us. “What Mrs. Kowalski was getting at was that it’s a tad unusual to hire an architect over the internet without ensuring they are who they claim they are. A bit risky and all that.”
He waved away my comment. “Yes, yes. I’m aware how that might come across, but from all I’ve told you so far, you see what a pickle I was in. I’d already made two appointments to see the loan manager at the bank. At the first meeting, the woman ended the interview abruptly when she learned I didn’t have any plans yet. I had to cancel the second meeting when the plans didn’t materialize as soon as I’d hoped.”
I didn’t have to be watching Val to know that at the mention of “loan manager,” her eyes must have gone wide. She was only along for the ride to interpret technical construction details, but there was no way she’d back away from the subject of bank loans.
“Let me get this straight,” Val said. “You were so anxious to get the bank loan, you settled for someone who most likely was not qualified to do your plans.”
Kuhl sat back as if affronted. “I suppose if you must put it in those terms, yes. I could’ve backed away. I’d spent some money on the preliminaries but not everything in my bank account. No major demolition had taken place yet. Okay, I should’ve backed away, But that’s hindsight. That friend I mentioned, the one who got me started along this path? She was more than a friend. At least I saw her that way, but when she heard about my bad luck thus far, she was ready to move on. I, uh, didn’t want that. It seemed the only way I could keep her in my life was to proceed with this crazy renovation.”
“So the bank approved your loan request based on plans put together by some fly-by-night,” Herc said. “Mortimer Fonseca saw through their discrepancies when he reviewed your permit application, but by then you’d invested the entire loan in building materials and a contractor.”
“The man ended my dream,” Kuhl gave as his reply.
By unspoken agreement, the three of us didn’t point out the folly of his statement. He’d killed his own dream through his ineptness, impatience and hopeless infatuation with a woman who led him astray, although we’d certainly discuss it amongst ourselves later. The man appeared to have been quite candid with us in sharing his story, although it wasn’t clear if he truly believed Fonseca was at fault or just wasn’t admitting how he’d brought about his own disaster.
At length, Herc got us back on track. “Speaking of the man, let’s get back to your interactions with him. You said you saw him once in person. When was that?”
“As soon as I received his first rejection of my application, I called and made an appointment to discuss his decision in person. He wasn’t keen on meeting with me. Said his decision spoke for itself. I pointed out that all it said was ‘no’ and I wanted to find out why and how I could get it changed.”
“Didn’t his response list the problems and what needed to be done to rectify them?” Val asked.
“Well, yes,” he replied. “But it was like reading a foreign language. I had no idea what was wrong.”
“So your in-person visit was to get him to clarify his remarks? How did that go?” I asked.
“Obviously, I wasn’t successful.”
“Give us a little more substance than that,” I said.
“In a word, the man was officious. Never did look me directly in the eyes. That tells you something about him, doesn’t it? He kept working on some document on his desk. Finally, I couldn’t hold in my patience any longer and said something like, ‘You’re a public servant, man. At least have the good manners to answer my questions.’ Then I waited for several seconds before he answered. When he did, he said he couldn’t believe I’d wasted his time and the time of the city by submitting an application with such subpar building plans and not to reapply until I’d found a legitimate architect to totally revise the plans.”
“Pretty strong words. How did you react?” Herc asked.
“How do you think I reacted? He’d insulted me and the project. He may have thought he was doing his job, but he didn’t have to be so rude. That’s pretty much what I told him.”
“And his response?” I asked.
“Went right back to studying whatever had been on his desk when I arrived. Apparently he thought he’d said his piece and he was no longer bound to deal with me. At that point, I may have lost my patience and pounded my fist on his desk. Just to get his attention, that’s all. I didn’t hurt him. He rose and told me I needed to leave before he called security. So I left.”
“Did you make any attempt after that to redo your application?” Herc asked.
Kuhl swiped his face. “Of course I did, after I cooled down for a day or two. But I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it. I tried several times to contact the guy who did the plans with no success. So I gave up on him and called Fonseca. He finally answered the third time I called. His response when I asked how I could revise the plans to get his approval was to start over, find someone else to draft them. Someone who knew what they were doing.”
“Why did you lodge a formal complaint against him?” I asked.
He blinked. “You have to ask? The man was totally uncooperative.”
Once again, Val couldn’t hold back. “From everything you’ve described about your situation, your renovation plans were crap. You do understand that, don’t you?”
Okay, I wouldn’t have been so blunt, but she said what I’d been thinking, and I was sure Herc would’ve agreed as well.
Kuhl spluttered. I rarely used that word to describe someone else’s behavior because it was more or less a matter of interpretation. But that’s what he did. Like a cartoon character.
He gazed at Val. “You do cut to the chase, don’t you? Yes, at that point I realized I’d been taken for a ride by my architect, who I have since discovered wasn’t even a first-year architectural student but someone claiming to have experience with CADD. That’s Computer—”
“Aided Design and Drafting,” Val said. “Yes, we’re familiar with the term. From what you’ve described, you gave Mr. Fonseca nothing to work with. He had no other choice than to disapprove your application. Even if he had been more cooperative, more understanding when you met with him, the result would’ve been the same.”
He heaved a tremendous sigh. “Approving and disapproving building applications was only part of his job. He also had responsibility to provide feedback on his decisions so that applicants could address the reasons for disapproval. He did nothing of the kind. His boss needed to know that. My ability to pay back my loan was based on being up and operational in the next few weeks. I don’t know what I’ll do now.”
“Have they not yet assigned another inspector to your case?” Herc asked. Both Val and I also wanted to know the answer to that, since we hadn’t been assigned another inspector yet ourselves.
“You’d think they’d want to get my complaint resolved as soon as possible by transferring my file to someone else, wouldn’t you? But no, I’ve heard nothing from the building inspector’s office, either about my complaint or moving ahead with my application.”
At this point he rose. “That’s all I can tell you.”
“One more thing,” Herc said, ignoring the dismissal. “Where were you between midnight and six in the morning two nights ago?”
“Me? Is that why you’re here? You suspect me of killing that man?”
Not even a good bluff. None of us responded. Instead, our silence indicated we were expecting an answer.
“I was here all night sleeping. By myself. There was no one else in the house. But I didn’t kill him. You have to believe that.”
Herc told him the same thing he’d told Ludwig about the forensic team arriving soon to go over his vehicle or vehicles and warned him not to leave. “Is that clear?”
Kuhl could only nod. We let ourselves out after Herc dropped his card on the nearby coffee table.