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Kate opened her eyes and wondered why her father was shaking her shoulder. The building department files rested precariously on her lap and her feet were propped on her father’s ottoman.
She raised her head slowly off the arm of the sofa. “Guess I didn’t make it to bed.”
“That was my impression.”
“What time is it?”
“Eight thirty. You didn’t stop by the office to say goodbye, so I came to check on you.”
“I’ve got to get going.” She started toward her room but stopped abruptly and hugged her father. “Thanks again for the talk last night. It was illuminating.”
“I’ll bet it was.”
Kate pulled into the city hall lot at precisely nine-fifteen and headed to Leatherman’s office suite. Claire was sitting at her desk, staring intently at her computer screen and mumbling to a sheet of paper on the copy holder next to the monitor.
Ben Leatherman’s office door was shut, but Kate could hear voices. She couldn’t quite make out the conversation. A period of silence was followed by the door swinging opened and slamming against the inside wall. Claire raised her head and stared at the two emerging men.
Bryan Porter—his cheeks, ears, and forehead red with anger—shook his finger. “Mark my words, Mr. Leatherman, this is slander only if what I’m saying isn’t true. Now, take my advice and flush this good-old-boy network out of the city or I’ll do it,” he said.
Leatherman shook his head but made no comment as Porter left the area and walked across the lobby to the building exit.
Kate cleared her throat loudly and placed her purse heavily on the counter.
Both Claire and Leatherman turned toward the noise.
Kate said, “This may not be a good time, but I’d like to speak to you, Mr. Leatherman.”
“Come on in,” he said straining a smile.
“I appreciate your seeing me,” Kate said as she scooted into the chair in front of his desk. “I couldn’t help overhearing Bryan Porter’s threat.”
“Bryan didn’t threaten me. He was merely stating his intentions.”
“Point taken, Mr. Leatherman.”
“How can I help you, Ms. Starling?”
“I have some questions about the files Claire copied for me.”
“I’ll try to help.”
Kate turned on her recorder. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Leatherman said.
Kate took the files from her large handbag and placed them on Leatherman’s desk. She opened the top one so he could read it.
He glanced at the three sheets of paper in the file, then back to her.
“This concerns the lot where the skeleton was recently found,” she said, pointing to a letter-sized sheet. “Can you tell me why this warning was issued? It was the first item placed in the file.”
“How about I explain what’s happened with that lot over the last few years. I’ll touch on each of these inspection reports and the warning.”
“That would be great,” she said.
“Clearly, you’re aware the property is owned indirectly by Fortune Enterprises, by way of Jack Brighton and Henrietta Stupholds. The actual lot goes back from Commercial at St. Limas to the Roark Creek arm of the lake. The original buildings along the two streets were used off and on for thirty years or so after Henrietta merged her store with Brighton’s. In the late 1970s, the buildings were torn down at the city’s request. They had been unoccupied for about four years and were eyesores, if not safety hazards.”
“Excuse me for interrupting, but none of that is in the file.”
“Right. I’m getting to that,” Leatherman said, with familiar impatience in his tone. “When the buildings were razed, that portion of the lot was cleaned up, but the woods behind them remained. About two years ago, a crew hired by the owner started clearing the lot of trees. I had been on the job for a few months. The city of Branson was in the midst of the construction crisis. The environmentalists were pushing the city to preserve the natural beauty of the Ozarks, namely the trees.”
“I remember,” Kate said. “You were hired, in part, to make sure it happened.”
“That’s what I was told,” he said.
“So, the warning was issued because the company did not have a clearing permit.”
“Correct. Allen was unaware of the requirement for a permit.” Leatherman stared at Kate perhaps checking for a reaction. “In any case, they stopped clearing and replaced the three trees taken before they received the warning. Nothing else was done with the lot, until the clearing permit was requested and issued last month. The clearing plan and the two inspections which have taken place are filed with the permit.”
“Thank you for being so thorough,” Kate said.
“Any other questions?”
“Not about the St. Limas lot.” She opened the other file and spread the sheets across Leatherman’s desk. “Maybe you can give me the same sequence of events on this Fortune Enterprises Office Complex project.”
“I won’t be able to do that.”
“You know historical details of a relatively small lot, which has gone unused for decades, but you can’t explain the department file contents for a major new construction job?”
“First, the property is not within city limits. Second, the project is on the list of those being audited by the state. If you have specific questions, I’ll try to answer them.”
“Okay. Twelve of the sheets of paper in the file are warnings to the owner or architect or both regarding the lack of proper permitting to proceed with the project. In fact, the oldest issue dates are on three of those warnings. Seventeen inspection reports were issued before the date on the footing permit. Neither a clearing permit nor a building permit is in the file. But three dozen additional inspection reports were issued after the date on the footing permit. Some of the inspection reports appear to be altered to indicate approval.”
Kate studied Leatherman and waited for his response.
“Do you have a question?” he asked.
“I don’t know much about construction. But it seems logical that the permit structure is in place for a reason. A permit is issued for each phase of a project, presumably before the work begins for that phase. Is that correct?”
“That’s the intention.”
“Why didn’t that sequence happen on this project? And before you use the excuse of it being outside the city, I know that does not apply due to the city’s agreement with Taney County. Why was Fortune Enterprises allowed to move forward without proper review and permitting by your department?”
“Unfortunately, Ms. Starling, Branson is going through some serious growing pains. Ways of doing business for decades are not going to change overnight. And those changes must be supported on up the chain.”
“You’re saying someone other than you or your staff authorized the go-ahead?”
Leatherman came to his feet and walked to the door.
“You aren’t going to answer my question.”
“If you’ll excuse me, Ms. Starling, I have a meeting across the hall.”
Kate shook her head in disbelief, remaining in the chair for a few seconds after his departure and securing her copies in the envelope.
“Is everything okay?” Claire asked, peaking into Leatherman’s office.
“Peachy,” Kate responded, then quickly added. “I’m sorry, I should be used to being dismissed by city staff. It happens a lot.”
***
KATE WAS READY FOR her next meeting by the time she parked in the newspaper’s lot and walked the block or so to the old Riverside Mercantile Building. The side door opened to a stairway as narrow as the hallway at the top. All but one of the wooden doors along the hall had Authorized Personnel Only signs. A modest placard on the single exception stated “Fortune Enterprises” in bold letters.
A lone desk sat in the center of the oval reception area, which could have fit two of her father’s living rooms. Three doors broke the perimeter—one on her left not far from a cluster of uncomfortable looking metal and cloth chairs, one on the right directly opposite the entrance, and the third positioned about halfway between the other two.
Kate placed her business card in front of the young woman sitting behind the receptionist plaque and said, “I’d like to speak to Mr. Jack Brighton.”
The receptionist pushed a long blond tress behind her ear as she picked up the receiver and pressed a button. “Kate Starling with Branson Daily News is here to see Jack Brighton.” She glanced up at Kate. “Okay,” she said with a shrug and hung up.
Before Kate could remember the title of the song playing from the overhead speaker, Larry Allen emerged from the door on the right. She met him halfway across the room. His light green polo shirt complimented his eyes, which were somewhere between olive and Kelly green. But his vacant stare definitely did not match the smile pasted on his face.
“Kate, always a pleasure,” he said extending his hand. “I must say your articles lend a breath of fresh air to an often-boring newspaper.”
“Thank you,” she said, adding, “I think.”
“I meant it as a compliment.”
Quite the charmer, she mused.
“Sorry, Jack’s not available, but perhaps I can help.”
“I want to interview him for a Branson history series we’re running,” she lied.
“Let me try to help,” Allen said, leading Kate to his office. “Granddad will be out of town for a few days. Have a seat,” he said, pointing to a padded armchair in the center of the office. He sat and swiveled in his desk chair to face Kate, and then rolled a blueprint covering his desk and placed it on a shelf behind him. “First question?”
She shook off her schoolgirl reaction to his charisma, remembering the councilman’s harsher side witnessed in previous encounters. He had a way of ignoring questions he didn’t want to answer. If pressed, he could turn the tables between heart beats and make a reporter wish he, or she, hadn’t asked.
“I appreciate your seeing me, Larry. I know you’re busy.” She took out her recorder and switched it on. “Makes it easier for quotes,” she said.
“Not a problem. But any facts about Branson’s history before 1970 will have to be saved for my uncle or grandfather.”
“I also have questions about the current projects, specifically, the new office complex.”
“I run the day-to-day for that job.”
“Then you’d be the one to explain why the building is almost complete but the building permit has yet to be issued.”
“It was issued last week.”
“Even so, the structure itself is almost finished,” she said, wondering why Leatherman hadn’t told her.
“What’s your point?”
“Shouldn’t you have waited for the permits to be issued before beginning each phase of the construction?
“We had waivers.”
“Were they in writing?”
“A handshake is a legal agreement.” He stood and walked to the window overlooking Commercial Street.
“Are you saying you had unofficial permission to start construction?”
“That’s how it works.”
“For all projects? Or for those run by a city councilman?”
He turned around quickly. “In the Ozarks, Kate. That’s how it works.” He took a step toward her. “Tell me, Kate. Have you examined records for other projects? Have you compared actual construction start dates to permit issuance on all of them?”
“I’m concerned with this project at the moment,” she said.
“Do you think this one is unique?”
“Do you?”
“Are you suggesting Ben Leatherman or his staff did me a favor?”
“Are you suggesting they didn’t? The fact is construction started before permits were issued, including the footing and foundation permit. Correct?”
“This project is outside city limits,” he said.
“So I’ve heard. But it is within the jurisdiction of the city of Branson Building Department according to the agreement with Taney County.”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“I’m asking you to comment on these discrepancies. I’m giving you a chance to explain, before I run the article.”
“Okay. I’ve made my comments. Now, I need to get back to the site. I’m sure a smart girl like you can find your way out.”
The bile was still churning in her throat when she returned to the newspaper office. It took Kate forty-five minutes to finish the article she’d already blocked out on the newspaper’s article management system. She marked it ready for Helen’s review and made a few phone calls before heading to her boss’s office. Helen motioned for Kate to wait before speaking as she finished reading the item on her screen.
“I read the article you uploaded. I have some issues.”
“But it was full of information and to the point.”
“To begin with, it was supposed to be a follow-up on the crafts fair, specifically, the creator of the crafts fair, Etta Stupholds.”
Helen closed the door and motioned for Kate to sit down.
“Etta’s in the article. I don’t know why you’re so upset.”
“That is precisely why I’m upset. You don’t know why.”
“Everything I wrote is true. I used direct quotes. I have backup on everything,” Kate said, pushing down on the table with her index finger. “You told me you wanted more Branson history in the pieces.”
Helen took a deep breath. “I apparently did not make myself clear. I meant to add background on Etta, not to libel Fortune Enterprises and the city of Branson Building Department.”
“Allen as much as admitted he made deals with city staff to get his project completed. He was rude and defensive. I put in his words verbatim.”
“Rude and defensive is how you leave many people. I’m not sure we can stretch that to prove Allen’s guilt in any way.”
Kate stared at Helen, realizing how mad—maybe even how right—her boss was.
“Tell me you have no argument,” Helen snickered.
“I guess I don’t know what to say. I see what you’re getting at, but I didn’t make any of this up. The evidence is in the file.”
“Here’s what I want you to do, Kate. I want you to reread your article word by word. I want you to place the emphasis on Etta and the crafts fair. Leave in what is absolutely necessary about the company. Tone down ... better yet remove ... all your implications. Leave the exposé for a different article on a different day, preferably when you have more proof than suggestions.”
Helen took another deep breath and folded her hands in front of her on the table. “When you’ve done that, run it by me again and we’ll see if it’s ready for publication.”