Read Online Designed to Kill by CHESTER D CAMPBELL - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: CHESTER D CAMPBELL
Tags: Mystery
Ads: Link
supper?”
“I grabbed a bite on the way over,” he said in that rapid-fire voice. “I’ve been busy.”
He looked ready to chew glass.
I frowned. “What have you been doing?”
“First, I read the accounts in the newspaper. Here, you can have it.” He shoved the folded paper toward me. “They included some quotes from Baucus and Detrich. The same old crap that police sergeant was giving us. After nearly gagging on that, I couldn’t wait till morning to check out The Sand Castle.”
Jill’s eyes widened. “Are you on your way over there?”
Walt sat on the sofa, hunched over, leaning short arms on his legs as he answered. “I’ve just come from there.”
“What did you find?” I asked.
“They had a private security guy in the lobby. He said both the developer and the contractor had gone back to Biloxi . And the elevator was locked off from the penthouse.”
“Right. The sheriff considers it a crime scene. Probably until they get the investigation done regarding the balcony collapse.”
“Well, I let the guard know who I was. And why I needed to see what had happened.”
“What did he say?”
Walt shrugged. “After I dangled a fifty in front of him, he decided it probably wouldn’t hurt to take a look. So long as we didn’t touch anything.”
“Did you see anything of interest?”
His blue eyes flared with anger. “That damned balcony was not built according to specifications.”
“How do you know?” Jill asked.
“The exposed rebars I saw were smaller than what we specified. No wonder it gave way.”
What I know about construction wouldn’t fill much more than a matchbook, but I knew those steel bars imbedded inside were what made reinforced concrete a popular building material. I presumed the larger they were, the stronger the concrete would be. “You’re sure about that?” I asked.
“Hell, I’m a stickler for details. What I saw looked no larger than number eight rebars. The specs called for number eleven. If I had the plans, I’d show you.”
A silence fell over the room as we realized the impact of that statement. The plans were missing.
That prodded Walt to ask, “Have you seen anything of the blueprint case Tim had with him?”
“It’s not around here,” I said. But his question spawned another idea. “We found Tim’s laptop on a desk in the bedroom. Could the plans possibly be in it?”
His eyes brightened. “Damn. I never thought about that. I’m sure he copied the file from our PC to it.”
I brought the laptop in and handed it to Walt. He set the machine on the coffee table, opened the cover and pressed the power button. As we watched and waited, the Windows operating system loaded, accompanied by a horde of colorful icons flashing on the screen. Walt found the program he needed and checked the directory. Listed among the files was “Sand Castle Plans.”
He double clicked the file name and the screen went blank.
Frowning, he followed the same procedure again, with the same result.
“Why don’t you check the file properties?” I suggested.
When he clicked on Properties, we had the answer. It showed the file had been modified on Saturday at
1:32 a.m.
Under size was the notation “0 bytes.”
“The contents of the file have been erased.” Despair crinkled the corners of Walt’s eyes.
“And it was apparently done at
1:32 a.m.
the morning Tim died,” I said.
Walt shook his head. “But why would he have erased it?”
“He couldn’t have,” I said. “Remember, the surveillance tape showed him entering the Seashore around one.”
“Then who did?”
“That’s a question I’ll have to find the answer to.”
I recalled something I had learned before retiring from the OSI. “There’s a possibility that file can be restored, Walt, if the defrag program hasn’t been run since it was erased. You’ll need to take the laptop to an outfit that specializes in data recovery.”
“I wasn’t aware of that,” he said.
“Check in
“I grabbed a bite on the way over,” he said in that rapid-fire voice. “I’ve been busy.”
He looked ready to chew glass.
I frowned. “What have you been doing?”
“First, I read the accounts in the newspaper. Here, you can have it.” He shoved the folded paper toward me. “They included some quotes from Baucus and Detrich. The same old crap that police sergeant was giving us. After nearly gagging on that, I couldn’t wait till morning to check out The Sand Castle.”
Jill’s eyes widened. “Are you on your way over there?”
Walt sat on the sofa, hunched over, leaning short arms on his legs as he answered. “I’ve just come from there.”
“What did you find?” I asked.
“They had a private security guy in the lobby. He said both the developer and the contractor had gone back to Biloxi . And the elevator was locked off from the penthouse.”
“Right. The sheriff considers it a crime scene. Probably until they get the investigation done regarding the balcony collapse.”
“Well, I let the guard know who I was. And why I needed to see what had happened.”
“What did he say?”
Walt shrugged. “After I dangled a fifty in front of him, he decided it probably wouldn’t hurt to take a look. So long as we didn’t touch anything.”
“Did you see anything of interest?”
His blue eyes flared with anger. “That damned balcony was not built according to specifications.”
“How do you know?” Jill asked.
“The exposed rebars I saw were smaller than what we specified. No wonder it gave way.”
What I know about construction wouldn’t fill much more than a matchbook, but I knew those steel bars imbedded inside were what made reinforced concrete a popular building material. I presumed the larger they were, the stronger the concrete would be. “You’re sure about that?” I asked.
“Hell, I’m a stickler for details. What I saw looked no larger than number eight rebars. The specs called for number eleven. If I had the plans, I’d show you.”
A silence fell over the room as we realized the impact of that statement. The plans were missing.
That prodded Walt to ask, “Have you seen anything of the blueprint case Tim had with him?”
“It’s not around here,” I said. But his question spawned another idea. “We found Tim’s laptop on a desk in the bedroom. Could the plans possibly be in it?”
His eyes brightened. “Damn. I never thought about that. I’m sure he copied the file from our PC to it.”
I brought the laptop in and handed it to Walt. He set the machine on the coffee table, opened the cover and pressed the power button. As we watched and waited, the Windows operating system loaded, accompanied by a horde of colorful icons flashing on the screen. Walt found the program he needed and checked the directory. Listed among the files was “Sand Castle Plans.”
He double clicked the file name and the screen went blank.
Frowning, he followed the same procedure again, with the same result.
“Why don’t you check the file properties?” I suggested.
When he clicked on Properties, we had the answer. It showed the file had been modified on Saturday at
1:32 a.m.
Under size was the notation “0 bytes.”
“The contents of the file have been erased.” Despair crinkled the corners of Walt’s eyes.
“And it was apparently done at
1:32 a.m.
the morning Tim died,” I said.
Walt shook his head. “But why would he have erased it?”
“He couldn’t have,” I said. “Remember, the surveillance tape showed him entering the Seashore around one.”
“Then who did?”
“That’s a question I’ll have to find the answer to.”
I recalled something I had learned before retiring from the OSI. “There’s a possibility that file can be restored, Walt, if the defrag program hasn’t been run since it was erased. You’ll need to take the laptop to an outfit that specializes in data recovery.”
“I wasn’t aware of that,” he said.
“Check in
Similar Books
