Page 19 of Rage

The top drawer contains hanging files jammed with folders. I page through. Credit card statements. Bank statements. Northeast Ohio Natural Gas Corp. Holmes-Wayne Electric Co-op. Holmes County Bank and Trust. Two wider hanging files contain manila folders. One is marked CLOSED. The other is marked CURRENT. I go to the CURRENT file and page through. Each folder is labeled with the last name of a client, and the folders are in alphabetical order. Abbott. Denninger. Hightower. Smith. Most contain simple work orders for landscaping jobs. There are invoices in various stages of payment. I’m midway through when I spot the overstuffed folder in the back. The frayed tab is marked BROOKS, CARTER—CONTRACT and highlighted in yellow.

I pull out the folder and open it, page through. I find a dozen or so invoices. A few check stubs indicating payment from Carter Brooks with a Millersburg address. I find a Landscaping Services Agreement for a job from March of this year. The description includes labor and material costs for a pavestone walkway, two dozen shrubs, six shade trees, and a walkway with grading. There are handwritten notes, a sketch of the landscaping design, and a few printed copies of emails. At the back of the file, I find an Intent to File a Lawsuit letter from Carter Brooks and skim the legalese.

I hired Samuel Yutzy, owner of Yutzy’s Tree Nursery, to landscape my home located at 1923 Marigold Road in Millersburg. The contract called for a hedge, six shade trees, two ornamental trees, and a pavestone walkway. I paid $10,569 on May 19. A storm came through in May and flooded the window wells of my house, sending water into the basement and damaging the floor, walls, insulation, and my home office equipment. I consulted an engineer who told me my landscaper (Yutzy) caused water to be trapped against the house with the pavestone walkway because he did not install a drain. Another landscaping company reshot the grade and determined that the original landscaper (Yutzy) was at fault. The repair cost an additional $4,892 (invoice attached). Damage to the building/structure and electronics came in at $10,921 (estimate attached).

Because of Yutzy’s shoddy workmanship, I had to pay a contractor to repair the damage in my basement (first water damage mitigation then replace carpets, drywall, etc.). I’m currently working with an attorney who says next step is a lawsuit. Yutzy has stopped taking my calls and no longer responds to my emails. Please remit $15,813 within thirty days or I will have no recourse but to sue.

“Hello,” I mutter. Tugging out my cell phone, I snap a photo of the Intent to File letter.

Back in the hall, I call Jodie.

“Hey, Chief,” she says, her voice breathless.

“You sound busy.”

She snorts.

“Put Lois on,” I say.

I wait a beat, and then my first-shift dispatcher greets me with “You know it’s a madhouse here, right?”

“I’m assuming that’s an understatement.”

She blows out a raucous laugh.

“Are you game for some OT?” I ask.

“I do need that new car.” But there’s a smile in her voice. “Bring it.”

“Did anything of interest come back on Yutzy or Shetler?”

“No warrants. No record. Shetler is twenty-one. Red hair. Six feet. One sixty. I found a few photos on social media.”

“Print copies of everything you have and have them ready for the briefing.”

“’Kay.”

“Dig up everything you can find on Carter Brooks in Millersburg. Check for warrants. See if he’s got a record. I need the names of known associates, including his lawyer if he has one. Go through all our regular channels and social media, too.”

“Will do. The briefing is a go, by the way. Rasmussen will do the presser.”

“Thanks for staying late.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Tucking my cell back into its case on my belt, I go to the larger bedroom and turn on the light. I know immediately this is the one Samuel used. A full-size bed is draped with a tatty Amish quilt. A dark blanket covers the single window, probably to block the light. I go to the night table next to the bed and pull open the top drawer. A copy of Es Nei Teshtament un Pennsylvania Deitsh un English stares up at me. In stark contrast, a pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter are nestled against the Bible. The second drawer contains a single unwrapped condom. A deck of cards. A pad of grid paper, likely for sketching landscaping plans.

I go to the third drawer. Samuel was Amish, so I likely won’t find anything as easy as a cell phone or laptop. Still, I look. There’s a box of tissues. A book of checks. A couple of magazines. Nothing even remotely helpful.

I pick up the grid paper pad to look beneath it when something slips out and flutters to the floor. I pick it up, do a double take upon spotting the photo. A woman. She’s beautiful despite the heavy makeup. Scantily clad in a tiny sequin bolero held together by a gold link, the tops of her breasts barely covered. Her arms are raised, as if she’s dancing. Part of a tattoo peeks out at me from beneath the neckline of her shirt. Her head is thrown back in laughter and she’s beaming a one-thousand-watt smile at whoever took the photo. A head full of black hair spills over her shoulders.

I think of the woman Leona Yutzy referred to as druvvel-machah. The photo certainly meets the description. “Well, if it isn’t our friendly neighborhood troublemaker,” I whisper.

I flip the photo over, hoping for a name, but there’s nothing written on the back. Pulling out my cell, I snap a shot, replace it, and head toward the door.

I arrive at the police station six minutes late for my briefing. I’m not a big fan of meetings and do my best to keep them at a minimum. But with a major case bearing down, it’s vital for me to keep everyone on the same page and delegate everything I can.

As I pull nose-in to my space, I take note of the dozen or so vehicles parked on the street, and I remind myself I shouldn’t be surprised that news of the murder has spread like wildfire. Grabbing my laptop case off the back seat, I get out and head toward the entrance.