A Fine Cast of Characters - J. Dane Tyler [0]
by J. Dane Tyler
Published by J. Dane Tyler
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010—J. Dane Tyler; all rights reserved
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Dedication
To my loving wife Vanessa, who has never flagged in her belief in and support for my work, and for my friend Raga, who wanted this as much as I did. Thank you both for pushing me onward.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Table of Contents
Do Not Enter
Copyright Protected
Lucky Caller Seven
My Childhood Friend
Remember Me
War is Hell
Over Troubled Waters
Acknowledgments
Do Not Enter
Rose set her hands on her hips, jolted her whole body and huffed an exasperated breath. “So ... what do we do?” Her eyes stared into the dark hole in front of her.
Butch stood beside her and fiddled with his Ray-Bans. “Um ... nothing, Rose. There’s nothing we can do. That’s why I called you. If we could do something, I’d do it.”
Rose turned to speak but her mouth hung agape for a few seconds before she snapped it shut. Butch shrugged.
Rose’s former boss recommended Butch to her. He was the contractor who had remodeled her boss’s basement a few months before. He was reliable, fast, and only used skilled laborers. He was expensive, but with the amount of money she’d saved by finding this building on the edge of the Black Heart section of the city, she could afford him.
Finding him and buying the building meant fulfilling her dream. All the years of saving, scrimping, and God help her, living with her parents, finally paid off. The real estate agent was only too happy to unload the building. The small, compact one-story with the slant-back roof and picture windows flanking the glass-panel door stayed on their listing for more than a decade. No one was sure why it hadn’t sold, only that it hadn’t. Every agent had the old stalwart passed to them when they joined the realtor’s office, because none of the senior agents wanted to keep peddling it.
But Rose was glad to find it. She wanted it. It would be perfect. With new, crisp, white walls, a clean, bright hardwood floor and modern decor, she saw it as her little slice of heaven. Her future bakery.
The demolition started the day after Butch got the last of the plans and permits for construction. Rose wanted to gut the building, bring in shiny stainless steel appliances and fixtures, a stone surface for kneading and a cooling table, and as many convection ovens as she could afford. She worked hard to bring this to fruition, and now, a hole in the ground stopped everything cold.
“So you guys can’t do anything at all? Nothing?” She tried to keep the groan from her voice, but failed.
“Sorry. I called you, then I called the inspector. I told him what was going on, and he said all operations had to stop, immediately. I had the guys picking up and removing junk, but they’re finished now, and well ... I have a couple of other clients I need to see about. So we’re knocking off for today.”
“I ... I can’t believe this. And a staircase like this doesn’t show up on any of the drawings? Anywhere?”
Butch shook his head. “I’ve checked ‘em over four or five times. Nothing. Here, take a look.” He gestured to his truck, parked in the cracked, pitted asphalt lot behind the overflowing roll-off garbage bin. Rose followed half a step behind through the dented, eczema-flaking rear door.
He bent through the open window, grunted as his barrel-body mashed against the door, and pulled out a rolled blueprint and a worn plat drawing.