The Other Path
Chapter 6
LaNeda's lips pull back in disgust. "Councilman Desmond Snodgrass! The man is a piece of work. Turn over any rock in the city, and you'll find him making a deal with the worms."
"What do you know about his involvement with the community center?" Kate asks.
"He made sure that Crewland Enterprises got the contract when Summerland bid lower and was more qualified."
"Yes, we read about that in your very well-written article," Rick puts in. "But you didn't say much about the how or why."
"The why is easy," LaNeda responds. "Crewland paid him off."
"Do you have proof of that?" Kate queries.
LaNeda pulls out her phone to show them a picture. "One of my people in the hood took this."
Kate studies the image. "I recognize Snodgrass. Who's the other guy?"
"Gary Crewland, he and his brothers run Crewland Enterprises."
"Do you know what's in the envelope Crewland is handing Snodgrass?" Kate asks.
LaNeda sighs. "No. But it has to be a payoff."
Kate shakes her head. "Unfortunately, that isn't enough to bring charges. Any lawyer could argue that it's additional information about the project or even a birthday card. Have you got anything else?"
"After that, Snodgrass claimed there was a problem with Summerland's paperwork, which is why Crewland got the contract. But I got a look at it. The i's were dotted, the t's were crossed, and it was in on time. Any problem was in Snodgrass' head."
"Or his bank account," Rick interjects.
"Do you know anything about a City Hall staffer named Arlie Spinrad?" Kate inquires.
"Besides that she's dead? I got a text about it from one of my sources, probably before the NYPD got there. Yeah, I knew she was on the project and didn't like Snodgrass much. From what I heard, the feeling was mutual. I met her when she was surveying the community center site. She invited me to spend a few minutes with her at Java Hut and told me she thought Snodgrass was trying to dip his cup into the well on the project. She didn't have any hard proof, but she said she was trying to dig up some. That was the last time I saw or spoke to her."
"How about a woman named Drew Anniston?" Castle asks.
LaNeda shrugs. "Never met or talked to her. But there's a Drew family that still owns a lot of property around the city, including in the hood. They have their paws in all kinds of things. Could she have something to do with them?"
"It's possible," Kate allows. "Anything else you can tell us?"
"Some of the guys in the hood who work construction have been watching the community center go up. They didn't spot anything out of code, but they think it's being built on the cheap. They saw a load of drywall from China, the flimsiest stuff Crewland could get past an inspector. And they thought the pipe was the lowest grade Crewland could get away with. A few years down the line, the building could need some expensive repairs."
"Which no doubt Snodgrass would want the city to hire Crewland to do," Castle asserts. "Cute, real cute. You have to wonder where else Snodgrass is pulling numbers like that."
"Believe me, Mr. Castle," LaNeda replies, "I have been wondering."
Kate frowns as she slides in behind the steering wheel of her unit. "I need to get my hands on Snodgrass' financials, but there's no way Gates would sign off on pulling them – not based on one unidentified envelope."
"How about the community center project?" Rick asks. "We could pull all of the public records. And we could do a background search on Crewland Enterprises. Given the history of accidents and suits, the community center isn't the first time it's cut corners."
"Right," Kate agrees, "and I'm willing to bet there's some interesting information in the court cases. And the victims may have a few things to say too. That may give us more about Snodgrass. But what about Drew? So far, we don't have anything tying her to all of this but the money you figure came from Snodgrass."
"And her first name," Rick recalls. "You remember Kirk said she might have used it because she was proud of it? She could have been related to the Drews with all the holdings, perhaps a poor relation trying hard not to be so poor. I could dig into them while you check out the Crewlands."
"Yeah, that could work. You want me to drop you at the loft?"
"Much as I glory in the light of your presence, yeah. I think the tools I have there could make my investigation go faster. And I won't be under the skeptical gaze of Captain Gates. Do you think there's anything I could do to stay on her good side?"
"Stay on it, probably not. But you might get there for a while. How are you doing on finding those Gemini dolls she loves?"
"I have had a continuing search in progress. But you just reminded me to check on it. That's another task I can accomplish at our happy home. I will keep you apprised of my progress."
"Yeah, me too."
Rick stretches, working his shoulders, and thinks about pouring himself another mug of coffee. He doesn't really need one. He's frustrated, not sleepy. The Drews seem to have made an art of keeping their heads down. Oh, they show up at ribbon cuttings and smile. Their PR people also put out plenty of press releases about their various charitable endeavors. But as to the inner workings of the family or even their investments strategies, the available information is pretty much zilch.
His chair squeaks as Rick pushes back from his desk. He should probably do something about that. But what he really needs to do something about is finding another angle on the Drews. While he's thinking about it, he decides to check the pantry for ideas for supper.
He spies something Alexis no doubt stuck in the larder at some point – Black Sheep lamb. Interesting, the stuff isn't from sheep at all. It's a plant product probably left over from when Alexis took a stab at being a vegan. Unfortunately for the purveyors of this plant meat and its brethren, she liked stabbing her knife into a steak too much to fully take the plunge.
However, the brand, Black Sheep, gives Rick an idea. The Drew family may put the kibosh on any personal information that gets out about its pillars of the community. But families have black sheep. And no matter how hard the attornies work, black sheep get into trouble, trouble that creates records. Rick should be paying less attention to the society pages and more to the police blotter. After giving the can of faux lamb a peck of thanks, he shoves it to the back of a shelf and returns to his computer.
"Booyah!" The neighborhood watch column in the current issue of the East Side Guardian yields a gem. Michael Covington Drew III was picked up for indecent exposure after having a few too many at the bar of the Kingsbridge Club. Rick remembers the place from his pre-Beckett days. The company can be stuffy, at least before the first couple of drinks, but the scotch is excellent. And a tacit gentleman's agreement usually ensures that what's said inside the club stays inside the club. Rick just needs to listen. He also needs to promise Kate that's all he plans to do.
