Page 130 of Long Gone

“Well, what if that’s not what he meant? He was really pissed at Hugo and thought he’d mismanaged the whole project. He said he’d sunk a hundred grand into it, and he was worried Hugo was going to get off scot-free.”

I chose my next words carefully. “You think Brett Colter may have harmed Hugo Burton?”

He held up his hands in front of him. “I didn’t say that. Brett’s a stand-up guy. He’s done a lot for the community.”

“But…” I prompted.

“I keep thinking, what if he confronted Hugo and demanded his money back? Hugo probably got an additional hundred grand from the investors before his disappearance, so it would have been enough to cover Brett’s investment. What if Brett forced him to return the money and then something happened to Hugo?”

If Brett Colter had confronted and killed Hugo, then he might have gotten Hugo’s password first and made the wire transfer. It stood to reason a guy like Colter would have a foreign bank account.

“Plus,” he continued. “Brett has a temper, but he’s never caused anyone physical harm that I know about. Just thrown things and screamed at employees.”

“His realtors?”

“He owns more than just a realty,” he said. “He has a construction business too. He’s notorious for throwing fits at job sites.”

So he had a business with blue-collar workers he might recruit to be his henchmen from time to time.

“Thank you, Skip,” I said. “That’s very helpful information.”

A guilty look filled his eyes. “Then why do I feel like I’ve done something wrong? Brett and I have known each other for over twenty years, and I feel like I just implicated him in something really bad.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, patting his arm. “What you told me doesn’t mean he’s guilty. Just that he needs more looking into.” I lowered my hand and said, “Did you happen to mention any of this to the sheriff’s department back when they were investigating?”

“I did, but not as much as I told you. Just that Brett was pissed about possibly losing his money. Not that I was worried he’d do something to Hugo.” He cringed. “Should I tell them now? Will I be in trouble for not telling them sooner?”

“I doubt you’d be in trouble. You didn’t have facts, just a feeling. Still, let’s not tell them yet,” I said. “I’ll do my own investigating first, and then we’ll inform the sheriff’s department.”

“I just want to do the right thing,” Skip said, looking like he was about to be sick. “And I’m sure Brett wouldn’t really have hurt Hugo.”

“You’re probably right,” I said, taking a step back. “Thank you for being so forthright.”

“Anything I can do to help.”

I got in my car and headed toward the tavern. I was dying to meet with Brett Colter, but if Skip’s concerns were legit, I needed Malcolm for backup. Still, I could set up the appointment. I pulled over in a strip mall parking lot and called Brett Colter’s office, asking to set up a meeting with him.

“May I ask who’s calling?” the receptionist asked.

“Harper Adams.”

She put me on hold, then returned about ten seconds later. “I’m sorry, Ms. Adams, but Mr. Colter says he has nothing further to tell you.”

“So he won’t meet with me?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding like she genuinely meant it.

“That’s okay,” I said. “Thank you for your time.”

I hung up, my mind whirling. It was suspicious behavior, and it seemed totally possible the men who’d broken into my house were members of his construction crew. What if I dropped by a job site and started asking a few questions? But one problem with that plan was that construction crews often subcontracted labor. Even if I dropped by a job site like I was tempted to do, the people I talked to might not know either Pinky or Mike. That was even if I could find a job site to investigate.

Instead, I called Detective Jones. I figured I could ask him if he knew of a criminal named Pinky.

“Detective Adams,” he said congenially when he answered. “Making progress?”

“Oh, you know these things take time,” I hedged. “Do you happen to know anything about a criminal in the area named Pinky?”

“Pinky?” he asked incredulously. “Any last name?”

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