“What about them?”
“Have they told you anything?”
“I haven’t had opportunities to ask them questions without it being suspicious.” He thought about Chloe’s idea. “Chloe suggested I host a barbecue here for the crew. Get them away from the job site and then I can pump them for information.”
“That’s a good idea. They’d be relaxed and it wouldn’t be their boss asking questions, just a guy wanting to hear stories about his dad.”
“You could come, too. They might know you.”
“When are you planning on doing this?”
“Sunday?”
“Like in three days?”
Ronan shrugged.
“Some people have lives. They might already have plans. And two days isn’t a lot of time for you to get it together.”
“What’s there to get? Meat for the grill, beer for the fridge, and some sides.”
“Do it next weekend. That way people can plan for it.” He drank his beer. “It also gives it time to get back to Cahill.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Who knows?” Brendan grabbed some of the notes Ronan had made. “Let’s see what you got.” He bent over and pulled a file from his bag.
“Nice purse,” Ronan said.
“Fuck you. It’s a briefcase.”
“Nope. Briefcases are hard-sided. That’s a man purse.”
“Some of us have jobs that require us to carry things to and from the office.”
“I carry things. I just do it with a toolbox and toolbelt.” He’d forgotten how much fun it was to push his brother’s buttons. “What does your fancy file say?”
“It says you’re an asshole.”
Ronan laughed. “We knew that already.”
“I tried to make a list of guys that I worked with that summer at Cahill, but it’s sketchy because I was a kid who didn’t pay attention to last names. But from what I could recall and with checks I’ve done, I’ve got about five guys. I found a few more that aren’t working at Cahill anymore.” He spread pages out on the table.
Computer-printed photos and biographical information on Cahill employees. John Mulroney was one of them. “Old Man Mulroney knew Dad. We’ve talked. Nothing specific, but he talked about how much I look like Dad.”
“Okay. So we make sure to hit him up at the party.” Brendan slid him to the side.
“Joe McKinley is on my crew, and so is Nick Jordan. The other two I don’t know at all.”
“Three out of five isn’t bad. You make sure they show up next Sunday. I’m going to start running down these other guys. Do you know any of them?” He handed Ronan the stack.
There were a lot, but that wasn’t surprising, given that construction typically had a high turnover rate. Some guys weren’t cut out for the physical demands of the job. Some hated the uncertainty of work. Others moved to other companies because they didn’t like Cahill.
Brendan went to the fridge and grabbed two fresh bottles of beer. He popped the tops on both while Ronan flipped through the pages.
“Since they’ve been gone for a while, I don’t know if I know any of these guys. If they were working with Dad and then left, there’s no way I know them.”
“Go to the back of the pile. Those are newest.”
Ronan flipped the stack over. He glanced at the first one. “Shithead. Won’t know anything. Pissed off all the Cahills. Don’t know how he made it there as long as he did. No one liked him.” He discarded the page.
“Let’s not discount him. If he pissed them off, he might know something.”
“I doubt it. All he ever did was complain and hurt himself. Then he’d get some money out of them.”
“So not just a shithead. A scammer.”
“Yeah, that’s the consensus.”
“What about these three? I remember them from my summer before I got fired.”
“I think they’re retired.”
The doorbell rang and Brendan looked up. “Expecting someone?”
“No.” Then his phone lit up with a call from Danny Cahill. “Fuck. It’s Cahill.”
Brendan started gathering papers.
“Hello?”
“Ronan. It’s Danny Cahill. I’m at your front door. Are you home? I saw your truck and assumed.”