Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
The DiFanetti Construction Company occupied an unimposing building on Dorchester Avenue, stuck in the middle of a lot that comprised a couple of gyms, a glass factory, a paint shop, and the home of Building Restoration Services.
“Do you think they’ll have kept time sheets going back that far?” Dan asked as they got out of the car.
They strolled over to the wood-and-glass door that bore the DFF logo, and Gary pressed the intercom.
“Can I help you?” The voice came from the tiny speaker.
Gary peered up at the camera above the door and flashed his badge. “Police. We’d like some information about a former employee.”
A second later the door buzzed open, and they pushed inside.
The office front was nothing but a desk, filing cabinets, and a couple of chairs, with another door at the rear marked Private.
In one of the chairs, a man sat reading a newspaper, his jeans and boots smeared with dust. He glanced at them with the merest hint of interest before resuming his reading.
Behind the desk was a middle-aged woman, tapping at a keyboard. She stopped as they approached, and Gary held his badge up once more.
“Detective Mitchell, Boston PD.”
She gave him a polite smile. “Good morning. What kind of information are you looking for? I’m afraid I can’t divulge personal details.”
“We’re after time sheets,” Gary told her. “We’re trying to ascertain where one of your former employees was working on a particular day. Are you able to give out that information?”
She glanced toward the rear door. “Normally I’d ask the office manager, Mr. Abrahams, but he’s not in today.” She bit her lip. “I’m sure it’ll be okay.” She picked up a pen. “What’s the name? And what was the date?”
“Aiden Reynolds. And we need details for August twenty-eighth, 1992.”
She blinked. “I see. I don’t recognize the name, but I’ve only worked here for six years.
And I’m not sure if I can look back that far, but I’ll try.
If it’s not on the system, I’ll check in the paper records.
We do still have some of those.” Her eyes glinted.
“Let’s hope he’s in here.” She patted the monitor.
“Because if he isn’t, that’ll mean a lot more work to track him down. ”
Gary got the sinking feeling Reynolds was going to be problematical.
Behind him a newspaper rustled. “Why are you interested in Aiden?”
Gary turned to find a pair of brown eyes focused on him. The man was in his mid to late forties, his dark brows scrunched up.
“Do you know him?” Dan asked.
“I used to work with him. What’s he done to have the police checking up on him? Aiden’s a great guy.”
“All we’re doing is verifying some details he gave us.” Gary held up his notepad. “And believe it or not, he’d want us to verify them.”
The man sneered. “Yeah, right.”
The receptionist cleared her throat. “Detective? Our digital records only go back to 2000.”
“But you mentioned paper records. How long do you keep them for?”
She got up from her chair with a grumble. “I’ll take a look.” She disappeared behind the rear door.
Dan turned back to the man in the chair. “How long did you work with Mr. Reynolds?”
The man stroked his stubble-covered chin. “I started with this company when I was twenty-three. That was in ’95. Aiden was my foreman. We worked together till he left us in 2009.”
Damn. That meant they hadn’t worked together on the tunnel—it had been finished in 1994.
“Was he a good foreman?” Dan asked.
The man shrugged. “He was okay. Better than some. You could have a laugh with him at least. You didn’t have to watch your mouth, not like some of the guys I work with nowadays.
” The sneer was back. “Working on a construction site isn’t like it used to be.
When I first started, if you saw a nice bit of skirt walking past, you’d whistle at her or call out to her.
Times have changed, though. These days you gotta be careful.
Either she’ll report you, or you find out she isn’t a she in the first place. ”
“Some people might argue those changes are for the better,” Dan murmured.
The man’s eyes narrowed, but before he could say a word, the rear door opened.
“Detective?” The receptionist held up two index cards. “I have the details you’re looking for.”
They walked over to her desk, and Gary plucked his pen from his pocket.
“In August 1992, Aiden Reynolds was working on the Ames Building. They were renovating it at the time.”
Gary arched his eyebrows. “Getting that contract must have been quite a feat.” He made a note. “So he was in Boston on the twenty-eighth.”
And miles from Lenox.
“Yes, he was. Well, only at the end of the day. For the rest of it, he was finishing up a job he’d been working on the previous month.”
Gary held his breath.
“And where was that?” Dan inquired.
“He’d been building a pool house in Lenox.”
Gotcha.
Gary made a note. “Thank you for your help.” He glanced at Dan. “We’d better go. We’re interviewing Rayne Wilcox in an hour.” He thanked the receptionist once more, and they hurried from the office.
“So he was there,” Dan muttered as they got into the car.
“Before you get too excited, something just occurred to me.” Gary frowned. “We don’t know if Cheryl was there. We only know her father saw her that morning at the house. We have no idea how long she was there, or if she even stayed there. For all we know, she came back to Boston.”
“If she did, even better.” Dan’s eyes gleamed. “We can place Reynolds in both locations.”
Gary entered Interview Room One, and Rayne Wilcox stood to greet him.
She was in her mid-fifties, with short red hair, a glorious shade that had to come from a bottle.
The frames of her glasses were red too, as were her lips.
She wore black pants and a long white blouse, open at the neck, beneath an equally long black jacket.
Gary’s first impression was one of height, until he noticed her shiny red high-heeled shoes.
Rayne held out her hand, and Gary took it. She gripped his hand firmly as they shook, looking him in the eye before she greeted Dan with a confident air.
“Thank you for coming in today.” Dan gestured to her chair, and she sat once more. They joined her at the table, and Gary prepared to take notes.
They’d agreed Dan would take the lead on this one.
“Gentlemen.” Rayne leaned back, relaxed. “You’re looking into Cheryl’s death? You’re about twenty-six years too late, but I guess better late than never.”
“You met in college, we’ve been told,” Dan began.
Rayne nodded. “Of course when we first met, she was still Ben. And a very different person. But once she made the decision to listen to what her heart and body told her, she was so much happier.” She smiled. “I liked her before, but after….” She sighed. “We were close.”
Dan leaned forward, his hands clasped. “Just not as close as you would have liked.”
Rayne’s cheeks flushed, and her eyes widened. “How did you…?”
Dan gave a modest shrug. “Let’s just say I’m good at picking up on things.”
“I’d hazard a guess that might be the understatement of the year.
” Rayne cleared her throat. “Well, seeing as you already know that part… it was nothing heavy.” She gave a half smile.
“I asked, she said no, and we left it at that. I hoped I hadn’t ruined what we shared, and thankfully we stayed friends for years after college.
We’d meet for coffee, catch up, go see a movie, stuff like that.
” Another smile, only this one was more relaxed.
“We shared a common interest, and that formed the basis of our relationship.”
“That would have been art, considering your job and hers,” Dan proffered.
She nodded. “Art was our life, so we always had plenty to talk about.” Rayne tilted her head to one side.
“You know what I loved most about Cheryl? You always knew where you were with her. No subterfuge, no hidden agendas…. If she had an opinion, she shared it.” She bit her lip. “At least, she did.”
“What changed?”
Rayne stared at the tabletop. “She’d have been twenty-five, I think, when I first got the feeling she was holding out on me.
It was a few months after that scumbag assaulted her.
” She grimaced. “I’d never seen her in such a mess.
Come to think of it, that was the longest we ever went without meeting up.
It must have been about five months before I saw her again. And what a transformation.”
“What do you mean?”
Gary was curious too.
“She turned up at our usual coffee shop, and… wow.” Rayne’s cheeks pinked. “She’d had a boob job, and she looked amazing. But it wasn’t just the boost it gave to her confidence. It was more than that.”
“Did she ever talk about her personal life?” Gary inquired.
“Nope. It was always her latest portrait, how her dad was doing, her work at the museum. But that light in her eyes, the spring in her step. She couldn’t fool me.” Rayne smiled. “She’d met someone. It was written all over her.”
Saturday, November 25, 1989
Rayne was certain she was doing a great impression of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland: she hadn’t stopped smiling since Cheryl walked into the coffee shop and joined her at her table.
“Sweetheart, you look like a million dollars.”
Cheryl’s face flushed. “I do not.” She removed her heavy coat and soft-looking scarf and placed them carefully over the back of the chair before pulling it out to sit facing Rayne. “Oh, thanks. You already ordered for me.”
Then Rayne got a better look at her, and damn, her face felt as if it were on fire.
“You’ve had a little work done since I last saw you.” Cheryl’s usual attire of high-necked blouse or top was no longer in evidence, and in its place was a low V-necked sweater that revealed new curves, not to mention a stunning cleavage.
Cheryl’s eyes sparkled. “I’m still getting used to it. Sometimes I catch sight of my reflection in a store window and I don’t recognize myself.” She peered at Rayne through long lashes. “Do they look okay?”