Murder On The Mind - Chapter 14

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CHAPTER 14

My first call Sunday morning was to check the central library’s recorded message for their hours. The second call was to Maggie.

Nervous as a teenager, I punched her number. The phone rang four times. Didn’t she ever pick it up on the first ring?

“Hello?” She sounded breathless again.

“Hi, Maggie. It’s—”

“Jeff! Good to hear from you.”

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“No. Just rushing around getting ready for Mass at noon. It’s Palm Sunday. I’m going to the Basilica in Lackawanna. Want to go? I could come pick you up.”

“I haven’t been to church in years. I wouldn’t know what to do any more.” A funny feeling welled inside me. Apprehension? I wasn’t sure. “Anyway, I’ve already made plans to go to the library this afternoon.”

“How about next Sunday? It’s Easter.”

“Let me think about it. I thought you lived in Clarence. Why go to church all the way out in Lackawanna?”

“I grew up there. I love the Basilica; it was my parish. Have you ever been there?”

“No. A sinner like me probably wouldn’t be welcome.”

“Don’t be silly. Besides, they’ve been restoring it for years. It’s worth it just to see the gorgeous art and stained glass.”

“I’ll think about it. But I would like to see you again.”

“Make me an offer.”

We settled for lunch on Tuesday.

* * *

Richard and I turned Brenda loose in the home decorating section of Buffalo’s Central Library, then we attached ourselves to the machines in their archives. We were able to backtrack Walker Construction’s downfall from articles in the financial section of The Buffalo News.

We split up the work. Richard looked into the company’s history, while I concentrated on the people.

Watching Richard work, I realized he would have made a damn good investigator. He thrived on digging through minutia—a necessary evil. No wonder he missed his research job.

We lost track of time. The librarians literally had to bully us off the equipment to get us out. By that time, we were starved. We found Brenda in the main lobby, loaded down with coffee table books. It took no persuasion at all to convince her to go out for an early dinner. We settled on the Red Mill, because Brenda thought its paddlewheel looked quaint.

Richard and I brought along our research to compare notes. His pages were well-organized, and he bucked the old physician’s cliché by writing in neat script. Mine looked no different from what I’d done in high school—haphazard. But I could read them, and that’s all that mattered.

After ordering drinks, Richard settled a pair of reading glasses on his nose and shuffled through his notes. “Walker Construction’s financial problems began after they contracted to build a shopping mall on the outskirts of Cheektowaga,” he began. “The land was purchased, but the permits were delayed time and again when environmental studies got bogged down in red tape. They’d already ordered extra equipment and building materials, but every time construction was slated to start, something else would crop up to halt work.

“Another shopping mall was proposed on a site on Walden Avenue,” he continued. “Despite the same delaying tactics, Pyramid Construction weathered the bureaucratic storms better than Walker. Walker Construction’s loans were called, penalties were levied, and the company was strangled. They ended up laying off fifty percent of their workforce under Chapter Eleven bankruptcy. That was the beginning of the end.”

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