“Is that normal?” Wolf asked. “To not have your laborers in the system?”
“We have both employees and independent contractors,” she said. “The employees are in the system, but we also outsource some of our labor with another firm from Grand Junction called Logiwork Services. I could give you their phone number. They have their own system that sometimes doesn’t sync up with ours.” She dug into a drawer, apparently searching for the number.
“No thanks,” Wolf said. “No need to trouble yourself.”
Mrs. Cranson stopped, raising the glasses to her head.
“Who’s the best person to show this picture to?” Wolf asked. “Can you point us to a supervisor? A manager?”
“Yes, that’s a good idea. You could go across the street and talk to the supervisor. He’ll be the one with the red hard hat.”
Wolf nodded and then looked at Deputy Cain. She stood with her back rigid, avoiding eye contact.
“Thank you."
“Wait a minute,” Mrs. Cranson said. “You’ll need hardhats and an escort.”
She stood up and went to a closet, producing three hardhats for them. While they donned their headgear she got back on the phone and made a call in a hushed voice.
“…they want to talk to some workers…I don’t know… I don’t know. Bye.” She smiled. “Somebody will be here in a few minutes. You can go outside to wait if you like.”
Wolf led the way outside and was greeted by two corporate-looking men wearing button up shirts, jeans, and white hard hats. Both of them carried rolled up plans in their fists.
"Something I can do for you officers?" said the shorter of the two men.
"Deputies," the other man said.
“Oh, yes. Sorry about that. Sluice-Byron County, I see now. Can we help you?"
"We're looking for a worker named Rick Hammes.” Wolf said. “Shirley up there said he wasn’t in the system so we’d like to ask around.”
“Right.” The shorter of the men took charge. “He must be with Logiwork then. This way.”
They walked across the street. Once to the other side the man whistled and a supervisor walked toward them.
After a round of introductions, Wolf produced his phone with a picture of Rick Hammes on screen. "Do you recognize this man?”
The guy looked at it and nodded slowly. “Yeah. Don’t know his name, but yeah.” He pointed toward a group of workers in the midst of pouring fresh concrete. “He’s over there.”
“Thanks.” Hammes was currently in the hospital sixty miles south fighting for his life, but Wolf let it go and walked over to the concrete workers, Rachette, Cain, and the two corporate men still in tow.
A group of hard-looking men stood with trowels and large brooms, smoothing out the gray concoction that poured out of chute at the rotating back of a concrete truck. A couple of them noted the approach of law enforcement and nodded in their direction.
They wore the reflective vest. All of their pants and boots were crusted with concrete.
Wolf walked to the nearest worker, a tall man with tattoos peeking through deeply tanned skin, and flashed his picture of Hammes again. "Do you recognize this man?”
The man raised his sunglasses. “Yeah. Why?”
“Can you tell me his name?”
“How come?”
“We just want to make sure he works here,” Rachette said.
The worker dropped his sunglasses back on his nose. “His name’s Rick. Hammy or something.”
“Hammes,” another worker standing next to him with a shovel corrected him. “Rick Hammes.”
Wolf turned to the man with the shovel. He had bright red hair that flowed out from under his hard hat, and he looked no older than twenty-five. He ambled over, grabbing his baggy jeans by a thick belt and giving them a hike.
“You know Rick?” Wolf asked.
“Yeah.”
“What’s your name?”
The man’s eyes bounced between the cops in front of him.
“Answer the question, son,” the corporate man who’d walked them over said.
Wolf turned to him. “I think we’re all good here. We’ve found who we came here to talk to. You two can leave us if you don’t mind.”
“Yeah, okay. But if you’re arresting him I need to know. I’ll have to cover any losses for the day.”
“Arresting me?” asked Red Hair.
“No,” Wolf put up his hands. “Nobody’s getting arrested. We just need to ask some questions.”
They stood watching as the corporate men left and crossed the street again.
“Your name?” Wolf asked again.
“Wayne.”
“Wayne. Nice to meet you Wayne.” Wolf introduced himself, Rachette and Cain.
Wayne’s eyes raked Cain up and down. “What’s going on with Rick?”
“He’s been shot.”
That ripped Wayne’s attention back to Wolf. “Shot?”
The tall worker behind Wayne overheard and relayed the information to the others.
“I’m afraid so,” Wolf said.
“Is he dead?” Wayne asked.
“No. He’s in the hospital down in Sluice-Byron County. He underwent surgery last night. The doctors say there’s a good chance he’ll be okay. They said the surgery went well.”
“Whatever. Guy’s a prick.”
“Ah.” Wolf nodded. “How do you know him?”
“He’s my roommate down at the hotel.”
“Down in Eagle?” Wolf offered.
“Yeah. I got paired up with him. He snores like a pig. Mean all the time. Threatens me. Talks about being in jail. Have you seen his tattoos? Scary guy. A real dick.”
“So, you didn’t know him before,” Wolf said.
“No. The agency put us up together.”
“When is the last time you saw him?” Wolf asked
"He left yesterday morning before the sun came up. He took the day off. Said he had to go home to check on his dog, get some new clothes and stuff, and come back up.”
"And how about last Friday night?” Wolf asked.
"What about it?” Wayne asked.
"Was he in the hotel room with you?”
Wayne shrugged. “Yeah. Like, with me? What are you asking?”
“No, I mean, did he ever leave on Friday night? Maybe, around midnight or even later than that?”
Wayne shook his head. “No. We were all up drinking still at midnight. Friday night we were out getting it done in town.”
“What does ‘getting it done’ mean?” Rachette asked.
“I don’t know. Having a few beers. Trying to get laid. Getting it done.”
The other workers behind Wayne slowly went back
