Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 140, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 853 & 854, September/October 2012

Just then the outside door to the atrium burst open. We all whirled to see a hulking figure framed in the doorway. I didn’t recognize him at first. The rain had picked up again and he was dripping wet and his face was doing a good imitation of the thundercloud outside. Noland Nicholson was a record hound I’d met through Darby. They were good buddies — or at least I’d thought so up until this moment.

“So, it’s true!” he shouted, taking long strides toward Darby. “You’re selling off? And you’re selling to her? He turned in my direction and seemed to notice his own accusatory finger poking the air. “Hey, Session, no offense, how ya doin’?” he said offhandedly, then turned back to Darby with full ire. “You told me you’d give me first crack. You said if I pushed this job to the front of the line,” he motioned toward the outside construction, “you’d sell to me! We had a deal!”

“That was before the place didn’t pass inspection, Noland,” Darby said. “You’re the owner of the company; take some pride, man. Like I’ve been telling you, you do shoddy work, there’s consequences. The deal’s off!”

Nadine and I must have looked like spectators at a tennis match as we followed volleys of accusation and insult until I feared they’d come to blows.

“Darby!” came a small but commanding voice as Beth ran into the room. “For pity’s sake! Calm down! This is ridiculous.” She waded in between the two men, putting stiff arms out to referee. “You should both be ashamed. You’ve been friends forever and you’re going to act like this over a pile of cardboard and plastic?”

“Vinyl!” we all corrected in unison.

“Vinyl,” she repeated, rolling her eyes. As she continued to dress them down like a mommy scolding misbehaving children, both Darby and Noland began to study their shoes and I got a vision of my sweet deal circling the drain. I was bummed, but not upset enough to get in the middle of whatever this mess was to try to save it.

Noland had left the door to the atrium standing open and now two more men appeared, dressed in yellow slickers. They stood, solemnly appraising the situation.

“Have we come at a bad time?” the shorter man finally asked.

Noland glared at the man as Darby motioned them inside. Nadine went to close the door. I noticed she threw the latch this time to shut out any more troubles. She stared at the unfolding scene, her lips set in a hard line.

“Hello, Ted,” Noland said, spitting each word as if it were a foul taste.

“Noland,” the man nodded by way of greeting. “You’ll be happy to hear everything passed. You’re clear to start the electrical.”

“Shoulda been clear the first time around,” Noland tossed back.

“Look, Noland,” the man said, “this isn’t high school, I’m doing my job. It’s like I told your man John here,” he jerked his thumb at the tall man standing behind him, “it wasn’t his fault. I say John Daws is one of the best construction foremen I know. They changed the code last year and anybody could have missed this.”

“Well, if it’s not my foreman’s fault, and it’s not your fault, whose fault is it?” Noland persisted, but it was clear he was having to strain to keep up the bluster.

“Nobody’s, Noland. It was just one of those things,” replied the man named Ted, who I’d now surmised was a building inspector. “You’re all set now and there’s no reason for anybody to be ticked off about it anymore.”

Noland’s foreman, John Daws, stood silent and expressionless through the whole exchange. He stared straight ahead as they discussed him as if he weren’t there. He was a large man with features that hinted at a Cherokee heritage and was clearly no stranger to manual labor.

Noland started to argue, but Darby cut in. “Ted’s right, Noland. Beth too. This has gone on long enough. I’ve been an ass. I don’t know what got into me.”

He turned his big brown eyes on me in silent supplication. I flapped a hand even as I mentally added up gas money and time lost on this useless excursion.

“I’ll make it up to you, Session,” he said, “I promise.”

Beth rubbed his shoulder. “That’s good. Now, can I get anybody anything?”

I saw a sour look come over Nadine’s face as she caught a few loose strands of salt-and-pepper hair, capturing it with the clasp at the nape of her neck. She didn’t exactly harrumph — not out loud, anyway — but it was clear she didn’t think Beth capable of functioning as hostess.

Lurking in the doorway that led off to the kitchen I saw a boy who looked to be in his teens. Beth followed my eyes and waved him in. “Everyone, this is my little brother, Kyle. Kyle, say hello.”

Kyle shuffled into the room but didn’t seem inclined to say hello, or anything else. He stared ahead; his eyes — or at least the one I could see — were dark and brooding. His hair, blue-black as a raven’s wing, was shaved close on the sides and back but long on top, one clump falling to his nose.

When the silence stretched beyond good manners, Beth blushed and herded him out of the room.