Free Moss Hysteria by Kate Collins Page A

home until ten o’clock—she works evenings part-time—and my boys play sports after school.”
    I wrote everything down and put an asterisk beside it to indicate an area to explore. Rye had no way to verify his alibi.
    He began to twist his baseball cap in his hands. “Look, if this is your way of trying to find out whether I killed Dirk, I can tell you I didn’t particularly care for the way the guy treated me, but I wouldn’t have killed him. I’ve got a large family to support, and I can’t do that from prison. If you want to know the truth, I’ve been shopping for another job. I don’t want that to get back to Mr. Thorne, though.”
    â€œEverything you tell us is confidential,” I said.
    He let out a breath. “Thank you.”
    â€œOther than the robbery victims,” Marco said, “can you think of anyone in Brandywine who might have had an intense dislike for Dirk?”
    Rye picked up his glass and took a slow drink of tea as he pondered it. “Not
in
Brandywine,” he said at last. “Just kind of associated with it.”
    â€œI need a name,” Marco said.
    Without hesitation Rye said, “Maynard Dell.”
    That name sounded familiar but I couldn’t place it. Marco, however, identified him instantly. “The town’s building inspector? Why did he dislike Dirk?”
    â€œIt was more of a mutual dislike.”
    â€œBased on what?”
    â€œI shouldn’t really be telling you this, but”—Rye leaned in and dropped his voice, as though afraid of being overheard—“some of the houses here? Dirk said they shouldn’t have passed inspection. Their wiring isn’t up to code.”
    â€œThen why did they pass?” Marco asked.
    â€œYou know how the inspector checks wiring? He sticks one of them juice detectors in the electrical outlet to see if it lights up. If it does, it passes inspection. Then there’s his fondness for long liquid lunches. Kind of hard to work after one of those.”
    â€œHe drinks
during
working hours?” I asked as I wrote.
    Rye held up his hands, palms out. “I’m only repeating what Dirk told me. It really bugged him that Maynard was earning good money and getting great benefits for slipshod work just because he knew someone on the town council. A patronage job, Dirk called it. Boy, he hated that.”
    â€œSo do I,” I said. “Doesn’t that irk you, too?”
    Rye shrugged again, but this time I caught glimmers of anger in his brown eyes. “I care about the people here. I hope it isn’t true, because I don’t want anything bad to happen to anyone ’cause their house isn’t safe.”
    â€œDoes that include our house?” I asked.
    â€œLike I said, this was what Dirk told me. But if I were you, I’d hire an electrician you trust to inspect your wiring.”
    I glanced around the room, half expecting to see sparks coming from the kitchen’s recessed lights. “What happens if the wiring is faulty?”
    â€œIt could cause a fire.” Rye shrugged, glancing up at the brushed nickel light fixture overhead. “You’d have to rip it all out to fix it.”
    Rip my walls apart? I was seeing red, and it wasn’t from imaginary flames. “What kind of electrician did Brandon Thorne hire?”
    â€œWhoever put in the lowest bid.”
    I could feel my temper bubbling up fast, but I wasn’t sure who to be angriest with, the developer or Maynard Dell. “So if our house catches fire, shouldn’t Maynard Dell and the town of New Chapel be responsible?”
    Rye nodded, his head bowed as though admitting it embarrassed him. And yet I thought I detected a slight smugness in his expression that made me suspect he was enjoying ratting Maynard out.
    Marco said, “Once Dirk knew this was going on, what did he do?”
    â€œHe said he was gonna have a talk with