chair the committee.”
The silence that followed was delicious.
Daniel stepped forward and held out the leather folder.
“Mr. Hale. Yesterday afternoon you and your wife signed a document for Mr. Frank Delaney.
I’d encourage you to actually read it this time.”
Garrison snatched the folder.
I watched his eyes move down the page.
I watched them stop.
The document they had signed — without reading past the first line — was a written acknowledgment that they were refusing to pay a contracted balance of $6,200 for completed custom carpentry, itemized, dated, and referencing the signed contract and every signed change order in Grandpa’s little green notebook.
In other words: they had signed a confession.
“This morning at 8:02,” Daniel continued pleasantly, “we filed a mechanic’s lien against this property.
It’s now attached to your title.
You can’t sell, refinance, or borrow against this house until Mr. Delaney is paid
