Chapter 14

14

"Hey, Irish!"

Ryan's recently acquired nickname echoed through the rat's maze of cubicles in the station, causing more than one officer to chuckle under his breath. He didn't mind it too much. He was from a large Irish family, after all. Nothing he could do about that.

"Irish, you got a minute?" Chief Foster asked again when he appeared at his side.

"Yes." He stood up, glad for the excuse to not start his morning by scanning through police reports of carjackings in nearby jurisdictions. "What's up?"

"I want you to head over to Burke Lumber. Dispatcher just sent out a request for a unit to be on the scene."

"Yes, sir." He reached for his radio and took his pistol from the locked drawer in his desk. "What's going on?"

"There was a fire, but it was small, and the fire department already put it out." He frowned, glancing at his cell. "However, it sounds as if one of the employees might have seen something. I want you to go check it out."

"They don't think it was an accident?"

"I'm not sure what they think. Dispatcher sounded pretty confused about the call. But she did say that she feels it was a legit concern. I don't doubt it. Burke Lumber has a stellar reputation. The owner's name is Walker Burkholder. He should be able to help you talk to whoever you need to."

"Roger that."

After striding out to his cruiser, Ryan pulled out of the station and drove the five miles to the edge of Marion. Thankfully it was the middle of the day, so he didn't connect with much traffic at all. Minutes later, he pulled into Burke Lumber.

A fire engine was in the parking lot. The lights were on, but the crew was obviously cleaning up. Another vehicle, a white SUV with the MFD logo on the side, sat nearby. As soon as Ryan parked and got out of the car, an employee from Burke Lumber walked toward him with a confident demeanor. He looked Amish.

"Hi. May I help ya?"

He nodded. "Good morning. I'm Officer Mulaney. I was sent out here to speak with someone. Do you know who that is?"

"It's me. At least for now."

"All right. How may I help you?"

The man looked him in the eye. "There was a fire, but we think it was a distraction. The door into the main offices was broken into."

"And you are?"

"Sorry. My name's Jay Byler. I've been an employee here for almost ten years."

"Good to meet you."

Jay stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded.

Ryan hid a smile. The man was all business. He could work with that. "Show me where that is, if you would."

"Jah. I'll be glad to."

Following Jay into the building and then through a vast showroom, Ryan was shocked at how modern everything looked. He had figured with so many Amish working at the business, it might look a bit more homespun. "This place is unexpected," he said. "It's nice."

Jay looked confused, then nodded. "I had forgotten that you're new in town. I reckon you wouldn't have had the occasion to visit before."

"I've been here for over a month now, but you're right. I'm still getting to know all the area businesses."

"Well, welcome to ya. I'm sorry we're not meeting under better circumstances."

"Me too."

Jay stopped in front of the door that led to the main offices. It was black and had a glass insert in the center of it. It was obvious that the door was usually open during the day. However, there was a good dead bolt by the handle. The wood around it was splintered. "This here is how the office was broken into," he explained.

Pulling out his phone, Ryan took several pictures of both the broken lock as well as the marks on the doorframe. "I'm guessing someone used a crowbar."

"Jah. I thought the same thing."

"Do you sell those?"

"Crowbars? For sure. And probably half the workstations in the back have one on hand."

"Any way to tell if one is missing?"

"I can ask, though that might be a long shot. I'm afraid tools get picked up by employees every once in a while." He waved a hand. "You know ... we're working and we need an extra hand and a crowbar, and someone says, ‘Just go grab one from aisle four.' That kind of stuff."

"That makes it difficult to keep track of your inventory."

"I reckon it might. I don't know, though. Mr. Burkholder never seems to be disturbed by it. Plus, most of our customers are commercial. They're hotels, big office buildings, hospitals, etc. We don't exactly cater to folks just wanting one door or desk." He seemed to think about it. "Then there's all the folks who are our suppliers and such. I don't think anyone takes advantage. I've never heard of it."

Ryan figured Jay was probably right. Besides, the real problem wasn't a missing crowbar, it was the fire—and what could have possibly been stolen from the office. "I'm going to need to talk to whoever is in charge."

"That's Mr. Burkholder, but he isn't here at the moment."

"So, you can answer all my questions?"

"I think Peggy Conway might be a better choice." Jay gestured for Ryan to enter first. "She's Mr. Burkholder's PA, so she knows just about everything going on around here."

Ryan's first impression was that the office space looked as efficient as any metropolitan-based corporation. Well, any corporation that was run by someone's cozy grandfather. All of the furniture in the office space was beautiful—expertly built and with a smooth, buttery-looking finish. But it was also a little cramped.

A middle-aged lady in a pair of dark slacks and a white blouse was looking down at her desk when they entered. Her head popped up, then she frowned when she saw Ryan in his uniform. "May I help you?" she asked.

"Peggy, this here is Officer Mulaney," Jay said. "He's here about the break-in."

"I don't recognize you."

"That's because I'm new in town."

Still looking him over, she asked, "Where are you from?"

"Connecticut."

"You're a long way from home."

"I am."

She still hadn't budged from her position at the desk. "Are you finding everything you need okay?"

Ryan's knee-jerk reaction was to remind her that he wasn't there on a social call. But luckily he'd spent enough time in Candace's company that he was learning that easy conversation was just these folks' way.

Even more importantly, this Peggy was likely not simply making small talk. If he mentioned that he was in need of something, she'd likely find a way for him to get it. "Yes, ma'am, I'm finding everything just fine."

"Good to know. We're not the big city, but we have just about anything one could need." She winked. "With a few less cars and a lot less pollution."

He grinned. "You all do have a lot less of that here."

Jay cleared his throat. "Have you found anything to be missing, Peggy?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes."

Ryan pulled out his pen and pad of paper. "What's missing?"

"I keep a metal lockbox in the back of this drawer." She pulled open the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. It was finely crafted, just like every other piece in the showroom. Peering closer, Ryan could see a gap of about eight or nine inches at the back.

"What was inside?"

"Cash, plus a couple of credit cards." She lifted her chin. "Sometimes Mr. Burkholder will ask me to purchase something for the office or for his wife, and I'll use those credit cards."

After getting the description of the box, along with a rough estimate of the cash amount and number of credit cards, he closed the file cabinet again. "Anything else?"

"Yes." For the first time, she looked uncomfortable. Dart ing a look at Jay, she said, "I feel a little embarrassed about what I did."

Beside him, Jay looked mystified, which sent warning signals through Ryan. Jay hadn't been surprised to learn about the lockbox. Maybe he'd known about it? After making a note to chat with Jay about that later, Ryan scanned the PA's expression. She definitely looked uncomfortable.

"Is this something else a personal matter, Peggy? Would you like to speak in private?"

She glanced Jay's way again and flushed. "No, it's okay."

It wasn't, though. Whatever she had to say, it was obvious that she didn't want Jay to know about it. Turning to the younger man, Ryan said, "If you'll excuse us now."

"Oh. Yeah, sure. I'll, uh, wait out in the main lobby." After darting a look at Peggy, he left the office.

Ryan turned back to her. "What's missing?"

"Some of my index cards."

Huh? "What do they have on them?"

"Well, you see, there are cards on each employee. Basic details, but I also write personal notes on each."

Was she serious? "You keep note cards with personal notes about each employee?"

Peggy stiffened, obviously becoming defensive. "Yes, but this practice is not as bad as it sounds. I promise."

He raised one eyebrow. "How does it sound to you?"

Her cheeks reddened. "Nosy."

She was starting to look like she was going to faint. Or maybe throw up. "Why don't you have a seat, Ms. Conway."

"Am I in trouble?"

"No. I'm just trying to understand. Why don't you show me one?"

"Okay." Opening the desk's right-hand drawer, she pulled out a stack of neatly arranged cards. "Here you go."

He took the stack from her and glanced at the first few in the pile. At the top of each one was a printed name, an email address, a phone number, and a home address. Nothing too out of the ordinary there. Especially since she was the president's personal assistant.

But that was where the usual information ended. Below the basic facts was the employee's birthday, highlighted in color. Then there were several handwritten notes. The employee's spouse and children's ages were listed. Sometimes a pet was noted. On other cards, the days a person had taken off were noted. On others, there were notes about the employee's favorite food or flower. Finally, on about eight or ten of them there were dark check marks at the top.

"What do these mean?" he asked.

Her eyes widened before they squeezed shut. "Oh no."

"Ms. Conway?"

"They ... well, they're notations I made when they were rude."

"To whom? You?"

She nodded. "Yes. Or to Mr. Burkholder." She winced. "Or they were rude or mean in general."

Pulling over a chair, he sat down next to her. "Did someone ask you to keep these notes?"

"No. I mean, kind of but not really."

"Ms. Conway, I'm here to investigate the break-in. To see if the fire that was set really could have been a diversion. If you think that one of the cards might have been taken, I need to have a good idea about why something like that would happen." Looking at her closely, he added, "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I do."

"So?" Honestly, he'd gotten more information out of men questioned for grand theft auto.

"So, to answer your earlier questions, yes and no."

"Explain, please."

"I mean, I started writing note cards on each person in the company as a way to help Mr. Burkholder." She relaxed a bit. "You know, if he has a meeting with a longtime employee, he wanted to make sure he asked after their wife or children. That kind of stuff."

"That makes perfect sense to me."

She smiled. "It worked so well, and Mr. Burkholder was so appreciative of my notes, that I started to add more details." She lowered her voice. "Say if, um, a man's wife was going through cancer treatment. Mr. Burkholder might have known that, but he could've forgotten the exact details of the cancer when he had a meeting with the employee. It wouldn't do if"—her voice drifted off as she flipped through the cards and put one on top—"if he asked Arnie Pyle about Lizbeth but she'd died."

"I see. So, is that where the other notations came from?"

"Yes. I'm afraid I got a little too diligent. It all started on a particularly bad day. See, one of our employees had an upcoming meeting, so I was getting his note card out. And I remembered hearing that he'd gotten a divorce. So I had to see if that was true. It was. So I told Mr. Burkholder, you know, just to be on the safe side."

"Because you didn't want him to put his foot in his mouth."

"Exactly." Her happy smile faded. "Except that man was really mean to Mr. Burkholder and started yelling at him about needing a pay raise. He didn't even care that our boss had taken the time to ask how he was doing after the divorce."

"So you put a check by his name."

"Yes." She sighed. "I was never going to tell anyone about those checks. Honestly, it started to become something of a game to me."

"A game?"

"Well, you might be surprised by the things some people say to me. They aren't always very polite. I started writing little notes just to make myself feel better." Her gaze flicked up to meet his. "And yes, I know I shouldn't have done that."

"Whose cards were stolen, Ms. Conway?"

"Mr. Burkholder's ... and Jay Byler's."

"But everyone else has a card?"

"Yes. I mean, except for Scott."

"Scott?"

"Yes, he's just recently joined us, but he's going to be a fantastic employee. He's my son. I don't need a card for him, of course." Pride tinged her voice.

"So their personal information and your added notes are in someone's hands now."

"Yes." She lowered her voice. "Mr. Burkholder had no idea that I kept a card on him, but I figured I might as well be fair, right?"

"Right. Can you think of anything off the top of your head that either man might not want getting out into the world? Besides their personal contact information."

"Not really for Mr. Burkholder. All I ever put on his card were his favorite restaurants and his anniversary date. He always forgets."

"And Jay?"

"Nothing to speak of, though I did just add something."

"What is that?"

After a second's pause, she blurted, "That Bethanne Hostetler came for a visit—and a private conversation."

He knew that name. "Say that name again." He was a little rattled. Could it really be Candace's cousin?

"Bethanne Hostetler." Peggy was sounding a bit triumphant.

"Is that significant?" he asked.

"I'd say so." When he simply stared at her, she cleared her throat impatiently. "Oh, come now. You must have heard of her. She's the girl who was almost raped by Peter Miller six or seven years ago. And her cousin is Candace Evans, our current Miss Crittenden County." She winked. "I'm sure you know who she is. Her picture was in the paper."

Peggy was turning out to have a wealth of information. And he was learning that he might have been in Marion, Kentucky, for only a short time, but he was already in the thick of things.

There was no reason to believe that the robbery had anything to do with those cards. It might have all been about the money and the credit cards. Ryan had certainly come across criminals who'd robbed—or even killed—for less.

But there was also something kind of creepy about a company secretary keeping personal notes on every employee. More than a little creepy. It was one thing to have something written down in a personnel file in a human resources department. To know that it was handwritten on a note card, practically available for whomever Peggy decided to share it with? Well, he could imagine that more than one employee would find fault with that.

After pulling out an evidence bag from one of his jacket pockets, he opened it and held it out. "I'm going to need to take these cards."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

She sighed and dropped them into the bag.

"If you discover anything else missing, please let me know, ma'am."

"You won't share those with anyone, will you?"

"That's none of your concern. It's a police investigation now."

Looking even more deflated, she hung her head. "I made a big mistake, didn't I?"

Ryan wasn't sure if she was referring to her personal stash of cards or telling him about her habit. Maybe a bit of both. After all, he would've never searched through her desk for personal information if she hadn't brought it up.

Which posed one more concern.

What had been on those cards that had made her so worried that she'd tell him about them? He was going to need to find that out.