MURDER on the ROCKS (Allie Griffin Mysteries Book 2) by Leslie Leigh

broad, thick-browed and mustachioed, with short brown hair that jutted out slightly from beneath his hardhat. He looked as though he'd been born with safety gloves and goggles on. She watched this man guide giant slabs of granite through a machine that cut it into manageable chunks, and then take the chunks and split them into smaller pieces.
                  Brugel called the man and motioned him over.
                  "Take your lunch now."             
                  Allie offered her hand warily. "Mr. Matson? Hi. Allie Griffin."
                  A deep, gruff voice erupted from the man's chest. "Oh yeah, hey there!" He took her hand as if he was going to kiss it. "You're the girl on the news. Yeah I heard about you."
                  "I was wondering if maybe you and I could go someplace to talk."
                  He motioned to her. "Hang on." He disappeared and then reappeared holding a brown paper bag. "Follow me."
                  She followed him to the rim of the quarry. There were tables set up here where men could take their breaks. The view overlooking the deep, rocky chasm was breathtaking, illuminated as it was by the bright sun beneath crystal blue skies, and the green mountains off in the distance, rising up out of the landscape like ancient gods.
                  They sat, and he brought up the brown paper bag from which he extracted a wrapped chicken salad sandwich and a can of grape soda.
                  "Do you mind if I eat while we talk?"
                  "I don't."
                  He took large, healthy bites and chomped with his mouth respectfully closed.
                  "Well, Mr. Matson. I'm here to talk about Honey Reilly."
                  "Ok," he said, covering his food-filled mouth with a napkin he kept clutched in his left hand. His face was solid and serious.
                  "For starters, how did you know her?"
                  "I didn't."
                  "You didn’t?"
                  "No."
                  "Hmm," Allie said, narrowing her eyes at the man. "Because I have it on pretty good authority that you did know her somewhat."
                  "Nah, that was a rumor. I bragged about, you know, scoring with her. But it was all lies."
                  "You dislike her husband?"
                  He smirked. "Who doesn't?"
                  "Why do you dislike him?"
                  The man shrugged. "I don’t know. He's got a way about him that kinda grates on you."
                  "There was some tension between you at one point?"
                  "Yeah, he was on my case about quality control. I told him what he could do with that clipboard of his."
                  Allie chuckled. "Ok then."
                  She looked at this large man's hand as he dabbed daintily at his mouth. And she looked at his ring finger.
                  "So you didn’t have an affair?"
                  He chuckled. "Now, why would I wanna do that?"
                  "She was attractive."
                  "Maybe to some."
                  "You know," Allie said, "you look a little familiar. Where did you go to high school?"
                  He put the napkin to his mouth and spoke around his food. "St. Augustine in Ludlow. But I dropped out."
                  "Really. Why?"
                  "I don’t know."
                  "Catholic school?"
                  He nodded.
                  "Did you find it too rigorous?"
                  "Listen," he said flatly, "I had a lot of trouble all my life with learning. School and me don’t mix. I got trouble with letters. I