You’ve got to be kidding! It has to be. I ordered it myself.”
His words rang true enough, but it wasn’t what he said that concerned Murdock. It was his eyes. In his years in the construction business, he’d met his share of crooks and swindlers, and he’d become pretty damn good at spotting a lie in a man’s eyes. If Roy’s confused puzzlement was an act, he was in the wrong business. With that kind of talent, he should have been in Hollywood.
Just that quickly, a suspicion he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge shriveled up and died, abruptly easing the tension that knotted the muscles at the back of his neck. Relieved, he expelled a short breath and asked, “What exactly did you order?”
“Just what you put in the specs.”
“That’s not what was delivered.”
“The hell it wasn’t! You know I always double-check the supplies when they come in, and everything checked out. I’ve got the receipts to prove it.”
“Then we’ve got a bigger problem than I thought,” he said grimly. Quickly and succinctly, he told him about what he and Pru had discovered when they’d inspected the cache of supplies. “If the correct supplies were delivered like you say, then that can only mean one thing. Someone stole the right wiring and replaced it with the imported so the theft wouldn’t be noticed. Someone who knew the foreign stuff would be worthless to us.”
Jerking off his hard hat to wipe his sweating brow, Roy shot him a hard look. “You think it’s one of the workers?”
“I don’t know.”
Glancing at the crew that worked around them, he didn’t want to think that someone on his payroll was responsible for the theft. He’d worked with most of the men on and off for years. He knew their families, had been to their homes, had even, on occasion, loaned a few of them money when they’d gotten themselves in a tight financial spot. He couldn’t believe any of them would steal from him, lie to him.
But a common thief wouldn’t know the difference between American- and foreign-made materials. And if he was a junkie looking for something to hock to get his next fix, he sure as hell wouldn’t go to the time and expense of replacing what he’d stolen. No, the problems he’d had from the first day ground had been broken couldn’t be blamed on a sticky-fingered stranger. Only someone who knew construction could cause this much trouble. And only someone who had it in for him would. Now all he had to figure out was which one of the dozens of the crewmen he considered friends was working against him. And why.
“At this point, we can’t rule out anyone,” he said tersely. “Whoever it is, they’d damn well better enjoy themselves while they can, because their days are numbered. I’ll nail them even if I have to go the expense of putting in surveillance cameras to do it.”
Hoping it didn’t come to that, he made a few phone calls and, within an hour, he had a fencing company at the site to fence the entire area. The M.P.’s were notified of the theft and promised to increase hourly patrols. It was some consolation, but Murdock was through taking chances. By the end of the workday, he watched in satisfaction as two Dobermans were delivered by their trainer and locked in the fenced area, just as they would be every night until the project was finished.
It was Friday night and he’d done all he could do. The increased security drew comments from some of the crew, but he only shrugged and explained that he was worried about vandalism because of some increased criminal activity in the area. The thief, whoever he was, had to know better; he didn’t reveal his identity by so much as a flicker of an eyelash.
“Hey, Murdock, you comin’ or not?”
In the process of locking up his office, Murdock glanced over his shoulder to find Bill Dancer waiting expectantly. If it had been anyone else but Bill, he would have told him to stuff it, he wasn’t going anywhere. But he and Bill went back a long way, to the days when they’d both been young and wild and reckless, and he was the oldest friend he had.
“Where, you old reprobate? You come dragging in late on payday and Tracy’s going to have your hide.”
Unconcerned, Bill just grinned, the laugh lines at the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Nah—the woman’s crazy about me. So, are you going to Charlie’s or not? There’s a game tonight.”
Murdock grimaced. He’d forgotten.
A popular sports bar on the north side of town, Charlie’s was the usual meeting place of most of the crew whenever the San Antonio Spurs were playing a basketball game that was broadcast on pay-per-view on cable. For the cost of a couple of beers, they could watch the game on a big-screen TV and eat all the free hors d’oeuvres they could hold. For a bunch of construction workers who could eat just about anyone under the table, that was too good a deal to pass up.
As big a fan as the rest of the crew, he normally enjoyed the games and those nights out with his men. But for the past two hours, all he’d thought about was getting home and stretching out on his couch in front of his own TV with a cold beer. Not really in the mood for company, he almost made an excuse and let Bill and the rest of the guys go without him. But the men weren’t stupid. They knew about the problems on site and had noted the added security. If he started avoiding them, they’d begin to wonder which one of them he didn’t trust. Morale wouldn’t be worth spit.
So it looked like he was going to Charlie’s. “Yeah, I guess I can make it. You’re not going to get us thrown out of the place again, are you?”
“Who, me?” His brown eyes twinkling innocently, Bill’s smile was devilishly wicked. “I’m an old married man. I wouldn’t do something like that.”
Murdock snorted, his lips twitching with amusement. “Yeah, right. Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you so well.”
“I can’t. Nobody knows me as well as you do.” Chuckling, he slapped him on the shoulder. “Tip-off’s at seven-thirty. See you there, buddy. I’ve got to catch Pru before she leaves.”
Surprised, Murdock swore, but it was too late. Bill was already hurrying to catch up with Pru.
“Hey, Pru,” he called out. “You got plans for tonight?”
Standing at her Jeep and digging in her purse for her keys, Pru looked up to see Bill sprinting toward her. Hoping Murdock’s hostility toward her wouldn’t spill over to his men, she’d spent the past few days making friends with the crew. She’d thought she’d been careful—she knew the dangers of working with a bunch of men and how easily it was for some of them to take her friendliness for a come-on when it was nothing of the kind. But now, as Bill’s words registered, it was obvious she’d gone too far. And he wasn’t the man she’d thought he was—he’d made no secret of the fact that he was married.
Disappointed that she’d misread him, she began, “Well, as a matter of fact, I—”
“Aw, come on, don’t say no,” he cut in quickly, anticipating her refusal. “Most of the guys are meeting at Charlie’s Sports Bar a little later to watch the Spurs game on TV, and I thought you might like to come along, too.”
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