Page 50 of The Dead Come to Stay
“How’s the baby?” he asked. Green had reminded him to send a congrats card for the arrival of young Edward, named for Annie’s father.
“Noisy and not sleeping, your average eleven-month-old,” Annie assured him. “Tell Green thank you for the card.”
MacAdams wondered why they bothered pretending he did any of the usual niceties himself. He had half a mind to tell her he’d changed the curtains. The server came and went while they finished the small talk. MacAdams ordered fish and chips and out came the notebook and pencil.
“Hammersmith,” he said.
Ashok nodded and leaned his forearms on the table. “It’s a good firm. I know a few of the architects who work for them. Top-notch people who really enjoy the work. But that’s what makes their business in York so odd.”
“Stanley Burnhope suggested he’d received complaints about Ronan Foley,” MacAdams said. “The manager of a certain build in York that went wrong.”
“He should, if Ronan was overseeing that development. That site should have been finished a year ago. The designs were simple enough, just a mixed-use space on the other side of the Ouse River—not far from the 1237 motorway. Not even their usual thing. Low-brow, almost.” Ashok talked with his hands, and almost upset his water glass. Annie saved it.
“Have they done jobs in town before?” MacAdams asked, moving his own water out of reach.
“Not usually. They did the new facade of a larger hotel a few years back. Modern aesthetics are a little out of place in York.”
MacAdams couldn’t disagree; the firm seemed better fit for the city center of London in terms of their look.
“So why take on something like this at all, then?” he asked. The food had arrived; he permitted himself chips between questions but hovered over his notepad all the same.
“Honestly? It’s been hard all round for that sort of thing. Brexit, various shutdowns, new trade sanctions.” Ashok took a healthy bit of his chicken salad before adding, “If you’re mainly office high-rises, it’s a tough time to be an architect.”
Gridley had, in fact, taken a good look at what Hammersmith produced since about 2016. There were golf clubs and art centers, a few theater rehabs and several (very high end) condos, but they won awards for being the cradle-to-grave company for design and construction of tall glass buildings. But their finances seemed very sound, and despite the empty offices, there hadn’t been a single layoff in either the architectural or real estate side of things. Perhaps that was unusual in itself. He made a note to check back.
“Are you suggesting they lost interest in the project, somehow? Not good enough for them?” MacAdams suggested.
“Not sure. But they’re going to lose the project entirely if the Lord Mayor has a say,” Ashok said, and Annie piped in:
“Part of that building is supposed to house a community center. People are angry it’s been stalled, and I don’t blame them.”
“Especially since the city would have to find another set of real estate developers, at expense,” Ashok added. “Which means a change in space use.”
“To retail, probably,” Annie sighed. “Because we need more ofthat.”
MacAdams worried the conversation was about to veer toward the state of public programs. He tapped his pencil against the table.
“Would you say delay is the biggest complaint, then?” he asked. “I got the impression that personalities may have been at odds.”
“Oh that,” Ashok said.Yes,MacAdams thought,that.“It was fine until the city put pressure on the job manager. I never met the man, but he had words with the council leader and his deputy. You’d have to be gormless, yeah? You don’t take the piss when it comes to city council.”
“Ashok!” Annie admonished and Ashok blushed to his dark eyebrows. First time MacAdams felt some fellow feeling for the man.
“Sorry! But it’s true.”
This was the first plausible, business-oriented motive MacAdams had come across, as far as Burnhope was concerned. “How much money would Hammersmith stand to lose on a job like this?”
“Probably not more than they could stomach,” Ashok said with a shrug. “It’s more about reputation, though.”
“Especially if bigger jobs are thin on the ground,” MacAdamsadded. Could Foley have been jeopardizing Hammersmith’s position in a new niche? Or did his mismanagement in York do more than annoy the locals?
“Anyway, this Foley hasn’t been around all that much. That’s frankly the problem.”
“Absence, not presence,” MacAdams clarified. Foley couldn’t very well spend much time in York if he was twice a month in Abington with his lady friend, could he? He dipped his chips in brown sauce, still ignoring the fish. “Tell me, Ashok, what about the property now? Is it still active?”
“I haven’t been by it, so I’m not sure. As far as I know the city hasn’t pulled the plug yet, so it’s not out of Hammersmith’s hands.”
MacAdams had a sudden desire to see the property himself. If derelict, would it be locked up? Better to go first to York Central Station. If Foley had made an ass of himself, the city wouldn’t mind some poking about. He might get surveillance on the place.
