Page 48 of Rage

“Ain’t that the truth.” He strides to the desk and snatches up a landline phone. “Anita, sorry to bother you, but can you come get the girls? Keep an eye on them for a bit?”

A few minutes later, Tomasetti and I are seated in the matching wing chairs opposite the desk. The girls and their coloring books are gone. The only sound comes from the quiet hiss of the laptops and the Hall and Oates tune pouring from sleek speakers on the credenza.

“Like I said, I was shocked to hear about Mr. Yutzy being murdered.” Grimacing, Wingate looks from Tomasetti to me. “Couldn’t believe it. He’s … was a hell of a nice kid. And right here in Painters Mill.” He shakes his head. “You guys find out who did it?”

“Working on it,” Tomasetti says.

“Mr. Wingate,” I begin, “how well did you know Samuel?”

“I only met him a few times.” He makes a face. “When I hired him. And, a few times while he was here at the club, working on the landscaping.”

“How did you meet him?” Tomasetti asks.

“If memory serves me, I was talking to one of our members. I was looking for someone to landscape the parking and pool areas. He recommended Yutzy and I cold-called him that afternoon.”

“How long ago was that?” I ask.

“Six or seven months. We signed a simple contract. I can look it up and get the exact date if you’d like.”

“That would be great.” I think about that a moment. “Did Samuel work alone? Or did he have a crew?”

“Just one other dude. Young guy. Amish. About the same age as him. Name was Aaron, I think.”

Tomasetti leans back in the chair. “Did you know Aaron?”

“Just to say hello. I’d stop by where they were working sometimes to see how things were going and we’d shoot the breeze.” He turns thoughtful as if remembering. “I’d never dealt with the Amish before and it was always interesting to talk to them. I’d heard they’re hardworking and honest. Let me tell you something, those guys worked their asses off. They were here by seven every morning. Stayed till dark. They got a damn big job done under budget and with time to spare.”

“Did you hear about what happened to Aaron Shetler?” I purposefully keep the question open to interpretation.

“What do you mean?” Wingate’s eyes sharpen on mine. “What happened to him?”

I wait a beat, watching him for any indication that he already knows. He holds my gaze, focused, his eyes demanding an answer.

“He was found dead this morning,” I say.

“Holy cow. You’ve got to be kidding. I hadn’t heard.” He sets his hands on his desktop, looks down at them. “Are you telling me he was murdered?”

I nod. “Mr. Wingate, right now we’re looking for information on both young men. Is there anything you can tell us about Samuel or Aaron that might help us find the person or persons responsible?”

“Wow, I’m still trying to process the murder part of it.” Wingate shakes his head. “Hard to believe someone would murder two young Amish guys like that. Do you have any idea why?”

“We don’t know much at this point,” I respond, keeping my answer vague. “Did you happen to notice anything unusual when they were working for you?”

“Unusual like what?”

I shrug. “Were they having any problems that you know of? Were there any ongoing disputes? Did they argue with anyone? Have money problems? Anything like that?”

“All I can tell you about those two young men is that they were hard workers. I mean, they were kind of no-nonsense. Reliable. Quiet. Didn’t cause any problems. They worked a full day and then they left.”

“Did they interact with anyone while they were here at the club?” Tomasetti asks. “Any clients or employees?”

He thinks about that a moment. “Not that I saw, but like I said I only saw them a few times. Some days, I didn’t see them at all.”

“So there was never an indication that they had any problems with anyone?”

“Nothing that I saw.”

“You were pleased with the job when it was complete?” I ask.