Page 34 of Silver-Tongued Devil
“That could be it. Must you be so crass?”
“Apparently I must.” She looked at her phone. “Almost time for your four-thirty. You want me?”
“No.” The humor was gone. “I’ve got this.”
He jumped down from the Explorer ten minutes later and headed into the office block in a handsome historic building on Main Street, then up the stairs and on into Suite 201. Sawyer must have been listening for him, because he came out of the back office before Blake had even checked in with the receptionist, a smile and a handshake at the ready.
“Good to see you,” he told Blake. Come on back.”
Blake had considered doing this at the resort. Home-field advantage was always best. But he wanted to get Sawyer’s cooperation, and doing it here would make that more likely to happen.
“Now,” Sawyer said when they were sitting in his office. He eased back in his oversized leather desk chair and asked, “What can I do for you? Glad to see that we’ve gotten over that misunderstanding out at the resort.” When Blake didn’t answer immediately, he laughed and said, “Hey, I’m a direct guy. Anyway, you can’t hold grudges in business. You got another job you need my help with, I’m your man.”
He looked like what he was—an ex-jock who’d kept himself in shape. He’d been his own high school’s quarterback and gone on to play some college ball, a fact he’d shared with Blake pretty quickly. He had the confident, friendly small-town manner, too, but Blake was starting to wonder about what lay beneath.
“That’s true,” Blake said. “Glad to hear you say so. I’ll be direct myself. Since I’ve been in town, I’ve been hearing about Russell Matthews’s accident on my Sundays site. I have a few questions about that.” He set the OSHA report on the desk—the one he’d been sent after last week’s conversation with his Chief Operating Officer. “If you’ll indulge me a minute here, go through a few of these spots with me.”
Sawyer’s blue eyes lost some of their warmth. “There was a full investigation. It’s all in there, the case is closed, and I don’t have anything else to say about it. Matthews got his payout, and he’s still getting it. It’s workers’ comp, which means no-fault, no matter what lame-ass thing the ‘worker’ does to cause it.”
“Uh-huh. He’s pretty bad off. Who set up the scaffolding, exactly? Just run me through it.”
“A few people.Includinghim. It’s in there. Accidents happen. You want to talk about ‘bad off,’ maybe you’d like to compensate me for the major hike in my workers’ comp insurance afterwards for something that was the guy’s own fault. Where are you getting this?”
Blake rubbed the spot behind his ear with a thumb and stared thoughtfully at Sawyer. “Hmm. See, now, he says that wasn’t true, that he didn’t help rig that scaffolding. Says it in the report, and said it to me. His partner says the same thing. They both say Matthews questioned the scaffolding at the time, that he had concerns. Seems like he was a pretty experienced guy. Pretty competent, too. Thirty years painting, and never had an accident? Makes my nose twitch, and when my nose twitches, I check it out.”
“When he was doing all that telling, did he tell you that he was a drunk?” Sawyer had lost the good-buddy ease.
“He told me he was an alcoholic, yes. If he’d never had an accident, I’d guess he did his drinking after work. Anyway, seems he’s been sober for quite a while. Not even taking his pain pills, and trust me—if a guy’s looking for a crutch, he’s not going to turn that one down.”
“Hey. I followedeveryone of your candyass regulations to theletteron that job.” Sawyer’s finger was jabbing at the report now, ratcheting straight up to “losing control” as soon as he was challenged, which was illuminating in itself. “You got the town drunk whining to you six months after the fact, and you’re going to believe him over me? And then do what, smear my name some more, like what happened out at the resort wasn’t enough? I’ve got a reputation in this town myself, and it’s not for being a drunk. And don’t tell me about Evan O’Donnell,” he went on fast, even though Blake hadn’t spoken, just folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Evan O’Donnell can’t wipe his ass without asking for permission from Matthews or Dakota. About half retarded. He’d say anything they told him to.”
“You done?” Blake asked.
“Hell, no, I’m not done.” Sawyer stood up, bracing his fists on the desk and leaning forward, the threat posture familiar to every silverback gorilla. “If I hear you’re telling people that I was at fault on that project, if I get a hint that you’re trying to mess with me like that and damage my reputation, I’ll sue you for slander so fast, it’ll make your head spin.”
“You know,” Blake said, “I have a feeling you can damage your reputation all by yourself.” He didn’t move. Instead, he focused on relaxing, gathering his energy into himself. Partly because it was the best place from which to launch, and partly because it drove bullies like Sawyer crazy.
He was right. Sawyer was flushing now, a vein throbbing in his temple. “Let me guess. Dakota Savage. I heard you hadn’t gotten enough of her out at the resort, and now she’s painting your house. Can’t believe nobody’s explained to you yet that you don’t have to go out of your way for Dakota. She knows where she stands around here. Her stepdad was the town drunk, and her mom was the town whore. Bet she didn’t tell youthat. And her dad? He was arealpiece of work.”
He paused like he expected Blake to say something, and when he didn’t, went on, “Bet Dakota didn’t give you the rundown on him, either. Full-blood Indian, and he let you know it, headband and all, according to my dad. Ex-con, prison tats, the whole nine yards. My dad gave him a chance as a roofer, and that’s all he was good for, except he wasn’t even good enough for that. Came to work high one too many times, got fired, and skipped town with Dakota’s mom—knocked up, of course—and the other kid. And ol’ Russell didn’t even get up from his barstool to watch ’em go. That’s your Dakota. She’s got so much bad blood running through her, she bleeds black. I’m guessing she didn’t tell you she was a half-breed, huh? DakotaSavage,and that’s just about right.”
He was on a roll now, his mouth running away with him. Trash talking, but Blake was familiar with trash talking. “I hear you’re taking out Beth Schaefer, too. One on your arm and one on the side. You’re probably worried about that, small town like this. Well, don’t be. Dakota’s used to being that side piece. You could say it’s her specialty. So don’t be thinking you got to do something special to get some of that. There are girls you fuck and girls you marry, and she knows which one she is.”
Blake stood up. He did it slowly, and Sawyer smirked and said, “Sorry if I got you all disappointed.”
“You done?” Blake asked, his voice low and cold.
“Hell, yeah, I’m done. Done with this BS, and done with you.”
Blake’s hand shot out so fast, Sawyer didn’t even have time to blink. His fist closed around the other man’s collar, and he was hauling him across the desk, watching his sincere blue eyes bug out and his smug mouth gasp for breath.
“Say any of that again to anybody,” Blake said, the words still measured, “and I’ll personally come to your house and beat the shit out of you.”
He let the other man go, and Sawyer shoved himself back, stumbled over his desk chair, and nearly fell. He regained his balance and hauled himself upright, his eyes blazing. “You try it. Just try it. You want to hit me, NFL?” He beckoned with both hands toward his face. “Go on. Hit me. I’d love you to do it. You’ve got a squeaky-clean reputation and a liquor license to lose. My uncle’s the mayor. My second cousin’s the chief of police. See how good you run your company when you’re in a six by eight cell with a bunk and a toilet. This ismytown.”
“Maybe so,” Blake said. “But you forget one thing.”
He let the moment stretch out until Sawyer asked it, as he’d known he would. He was a bully, and bullies never had self-control worth a damn. “What’s that?”
