Chapter 8

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Barlow pushed open the door to his room at the inn. He noted with surprise how clean it was, furnished with an antique dresser and a double bed set atop a large braided rug. Quaint. The room matched the rustic vibe of the inn's bar and dining area. Above the headboard hung a painting of whitetail deer grazing against the backdrop of high snowy peaks. Wasn't typical of a hotel painting he would find in downtown Columbus. Having to share a common bathroom with other guests made him feel awkward, but he figured he could adapt.

After plopping his overnight bag on the dresser, Barlow kicked off his work boots and tested the mattress. He lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes. No TV in the room, but it made no difference. He was tired. If he went to sleep now, he could get an early start in the morning.

Barlow had set the alarm app on his phone for six. The Friday night band Trevor had warned him about kept him awake until well after midnight. After that, he slept fitfully until giving up at five. He sat on the side of the bed. A dead silence hung in the air. None of the other lodgers stirred.

He yawned. What were the chances he'd be able to get a cup of coffee at this hour? None, he knew. The restaurant downstairs wouldn't open for a couple hours and there was no coffee pot in the room. Unlike Columbus where there was a Starbucks on every corner, the nearest coffee would be more than twenty miles away at one of the all-night truck stops located near the town of Carlisle.

An advantage to getting up early, there would be no competition to use one of the bathrooms at each end of the hall.

Pulling on his trousers, Barlow grabbed his toiletries, room key, and shuffled to the nearest shower.

At six, he figured Lester Cunningham, his father's foreman at the Jackson Construction Company would be awake. He punched the man's number into his phone. Les answered right away sounding chipper. Barlow introduced himself and decided to get straight to the point. "I'm wondering if we could meet sometime this morning?"

Les took a moment before responding. "I remember you. You were a good worker as a kid. I'm sorry about your father. All of us at the company are."

"It's Saturday, but if you could grant me a few minutes of your time, I'd appreciate it."

After an awkward silence, Les asked, "What's going to happen, Barlow? None of us know what your father planned in the event of his passing. Besides myself, there are five other men on the payroll, and we're all nervous. Some of the guys are putting out feelers with other companies."

"That's why I want to meet with you. I'll explain everything."

"In that case, come on over to the house. I'll be waiting."

"Look, Les, I prefer to meet you at the office, because I'm going to need to look at the company financials."

"I'll be there in half an hour."

Barlow ended the call and headed toward the small office located just outside Millerstown. He recalled how his father spent little time there. It's where he did his paperwork and met with clients. The plain building was nothing more than a dressed-up modular unit, but it served its purpose.

Pulling his van into the parking lot, he spied a pickup truck and assumed it belonged to Les. The office door was unlocked, so Barlow walked in. Les greeted him and handed him coffee in a Styrofoam cup.

Barlow sipped. "Thanks, man, I needed this."

Les looked exactly as Barlow had remembered him, short and a bit stocky, except now he had graying hair at his temples. They sat across from each other on metal folding chairs at a rickety old wooden table. After a few minutes of chitchat, Barlow told Les about the will and how he now owned his father's business.

Les sat back in his chair and regarded him. "I gotta say I'm surprised given that you and your father had such a falling out."

"You're not half as surprised as I am."

"I thought maybe he'd turn the business over to your mother, despite the fact that they divorced. As far as I know your father had nobody else in his life."

"He had you and his employees."

Les blew across the top of his hot coffee cup before speaking. "The thought did cross my mind that he might take care of us somehow, maybe arrange for a buyout."

"Did my father ever tell you why he and I had a falling out?"

"Nope. All he said was we wouldn't be seeing you around anymore. I knew better than to ask him why." Les leaned forward in his chair. "Would you care to tell me about it?"

"Maybe, but not now."

Les cocked his head. "What's going to happen with the business?"

"You were with my father since the beginning. Only God knows how you were able to put up with that man all these years. I'll figure out some way to take care of you and the crew. It's the least I can do."

Worry lines creased Les's forehead. "There's a lot of expensive construction equipment tied up with the business, building materials, and even this office. I have a kid in college and my daughter's wedding to pay for. I wouldn't have the kind of cash it would take to buy you out, if that's what you had in mind."

Barlow thought about it. "The attorney told me it would take a few months for everything to go through probate. Let's not worry until that happens. I'm sure we'll be able to come up with some sort of arrangement."

"That sounds great, but there's another problem."

"What's that?"

Les rubbed the whiskers on his face. "Like I told you over the phone. The guys are nervous and some of them are likely to jump ship. That'll ruin our business due to ongoing contract obligations."

Barlow sat back in his chair. His boss in Ohio, Irv Washington, was looking for work for his construction crew, and he wanted Barlow to be his partner. Could this be a mutually beneficial opportunity? "If your guys continue to work, are there enough funds to make payroll?"

"I think so but can't say for sure. Your father kept the company financials strictly to himself. He never shared any of that with me."

Of course, the old man wouldn't trust anybody.

Les continued, "I can tell you, though, that in all the years I worked for him, he never missed a payroll."

"I need to examine the books, financial statements, payroll records, everything."

"Your father kept everything in the files." Les bobbed his head toward the direction of a bank of locked file cabinets. "He's the only one who had the keys. It's all on paper. Your dad was old school, did everything by hand and didn't put anything into a computer."

Easier to hide things that way, Barlow figured. "I have the keys." He removed the ring of keys the attorney had given him and tried them until he found the one fitting the file cabinets. He would finally get to the bottom of things. The records would show where any sudden cash infusions came from. He would spot any irregularities and figure out how his father laundered all the cash he had stolen from the poor bastard who died in the river.

He turned back to Les. "I want to pick your brain about how things were around here ten years ago."

"Ten years ago?" Les closed his eyes as if searching his memory.

Barlow returned to the table, took his seat, and gave the man time to think.

When Les opened his eyes, he said, "Actually, I recall ten years ago very well. That's when the business really took off, and, uh, I believe that's right around the time you left. Your father landed a housing development job outside of New Bloomfield. It's the largest residential development in Perry County and a financial windfall for the company."

Barlow remained silent a moment while processing that information. "My mother corresponded with me while I was in the Marines. She told me about the project, but she never made it sound like such a big deal."

"It wasn't just a big deal, it was a huge deal. Three hundred homes during the past ten years, and the developer has granted us a contract extension to build ten more each year for the next three years. That's the obligation I was referring to earlier."

Doing the math in his head, Barlow realized how that would have brought a shit-ton of cash into the business. He suddenly felt uneasy. Could he have been wrong about his father? "I should find all the details in the financial records." He went to the office Keurig machine and popped in another K-cup for a second cup of coffee. "No reason for you to hang around, Les. Tell the guys I'll make sure they get paid. Other than a change in ownership, everything will continue as before. You're the boss now until I get back to you. If anyone still wants to leave, they have my blessing. I think I have a way to solve the staffing problem."

"There is one other staffing loose end that needs addressed. One of our haulers, guy named Slay Gunther, got involved in a dust up with the state police while on the job. He got busted for reckless driving and resisting arrest. Your father would've probably fired him."

Barlow didn't want to get involved in a personnel matter so soon. "Do you think he should be fired?"

Les paused a beat before responding. "Yes. The guy is a hothead and obnoxious. Not very reliable either."

"Then do it. Fire him. You have my permission."

"That'll leave us short a hauler."

"Like I said, I think I have a way to solve the staffing issue. I'll get back to you."

After slipping into his jacket, Les turned to him and said, "Despite what you might believe, your father wasn't that difficult of a man to work for. I'm being sincere when I tell you I'm going to miss him."

Barlow didn't know what to say.

Les touched the door knob to leave but hesitated. "For what it's worth, your leaving really hurt him. He never let on, but I knew him well enough to tell. It affected him more than when your mother walked out on him."

For the first time in ten years, Barlow felt a twinge of doubt.    

Do you have a twinge of doubt? Could what Barlow believed all these years be wrong? What do you think he will find when he examines his father's books?

The big reunion between Barlow and Pet begins in the next chapter.


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