MURDER AT THE PIER (A Sister Sleuths Mystery Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

by hills. The beauty of the
terrain made it a magnet for artists, musicians, and health enthusiasts. With a
population of only twelve thousand people, it boasted art galleries, boutique
hotels, and a variety of artisan shops. One of the most popular weekly events
was the Farmers Market held every Sunday featuring organic fruits and
vegetables, local jams and honey, and homemade bakery items.
    Tom rolled the car windows down and his shirt sleeves up as
he drove. Being inland from the ocean made Valle Verde much hotter than coastal
towns, especially during the summer when temperatures could soar over one
hundred degrees. During the dry season May to November, the meaning of Valle
Verde, Green Valley, was incongruous as the hills turned from verdant green to
golden brown. It was still a month or two until the sizzling summer heat would arrive,
but Tom knew the area was already on fire alert due to the ongoing drought the County
had suffered.
    Parking in the shade of a quartet of cottonwoods, the
Detective took a moment to observe. Ken's house was small but the exterior was
well kept: recently mowed yard, freshly painted shutters, large pots of
colorful flowers on the front porch, and bird feeders hanging from the shade
trees. The front yard was hemmed by a wood fence. A pop-up camper parked in the
driveway appeared to be well cared for.
    The man answering Tom's knock was casually dressed in
jeans, plaid short-sleeved shirt, and boots. His thin but muscular physique was
offset by a leathery face, probably a by-product of a profession spent mostly
outdoors. Still, he appeared ten years younger than what Tom knew to be his age
of seventy-one.
    Opening the screen door, Ken shook hands and gestured
toward the kitchen. "Come on in. I've been expecting you. Got a fresh pot
of coffee brewing."
    Tom inhaled the aroma of coffee beans and the rich
fragrance of a jacaranda tree flowering in the back yard.
    Ken poured the hot liquid into ceramic mugs and pushed one
across the kitchen counter. "What kind of information have you come
for?"
    Appreciating Ken as a man of few words, Tom got right to
the point. "I was hoping you might be able to provide some insight into Neal
Henderson, the young man found murdered at the Pier. I understand you both
worked for Don Carson."
    Pride was obvious in Ken's voice: "I worked for Don
Carson more than twenty years. I started as a worker on a construction crew and
worked my way all the way to Construction Manager. I was Don's Construction
Manager on more than forty projects in the County over the years, both
residential and commercial."
    "I understand Neal was managing Don's latest
projects."
    "That's right. He is . . . or maybe I should say he
was." Ken motioned for Tom to follow him to the front porch.
    "Don and I had always worked on projects together. Don
handled the planning and financial side of it. He hired architects, arranged
for financing from lenders, and went to the Planning Department to get all the
Permits we needed. I was in charge of the construction side of the business.
Then, Neal Henderson came back to town after graduating from the state
university and everything changed."
    "Changed how?"
    Ken tilted his chair back. "He convinced Don to restructure
the company so there were two positions in the Construction Department: a
Project Manager and a Construction Manager. The Project Manager oversees the
administrative needs of the project, including budgeting and funding, but has
an on-site Construction Manager involved in the day-to-day personnel and site
supervision. Neal injected himself as the Project Manager and made me the
Construction Manager."
    "So you continued to oversee the day-to-day
construction activities but reported to Neal?"
    "You got it. He basically took over a lot of what Don
used to do himself by convincing Don he should start taking it easier.
Encouraged the boss to take his wife on those cruises he'd been promising her
for the last several years but never found time for. He