Joanna had spent hours on the Internet researching not only construction companies, but also the questions she should ask when hiring one. Keeping her search within the county, she had found three local contractors that met her criteria. They all seemed reputable, and all had websites overflowing with information about their capabilities along with dozens of reviews from satisfied customers, so she called each and set up appointments for Monday. However, by Monday afternoon, Joanna believed she now knew why the word con was in contractor.

The first man arrived bright and early as scheduled. Appearing a bit on the scruffy side, he trudged through the house and took all of ten minutes slogging up and down the patio, dislodging loose slate and grumbling about inadequacies before his inspection was done. He pulled a wad of papers from his pocket, and without explaining his plans or his timeframe, he scratched down a price. Handing it to Joanna, he gave her a wink and made sure she understood if she didn’t need a silly contract and agreed to pay him in cash, the price would go down.

The second was a half hour late. He entered the house grousing about backroads and the price of petrol as he had apparently made several wrong turns, and then clomped through the entry to the veranda. He lumbered across the slate and peered over the railing, and traveling down the stairs, he scrutinized the hill and grumbled some more. His notepad looked very professional, emblazoned with his logo and name across the top, and while he scrawled some details on the paper, he told Joanna the tunnel was at fault. The opening didn’t provide the proper support for the mortar, so his plan was to fill in the tunnel and then pour concrete over the slate. It was the quickest, easiest, and cheapest answer. He jotted down his price in the total column and with a big, gap-toothed grin handed it to Joanna, but when she brought up the subject of insurance and guarantees, his grin seemed to disappear. He danced the dance of deception, trying his best to convince her insurance was overrated, and while he, indeed, could get it, it would only add to her expense. And as for guarantees, he would give her a whole thirty days.

By the time two o’clock rolled around, Joanna just wanted to get the day over with. Disenchanted by the two prior appointments, she had little faith that the last would end any differently, but then again, she had yet to meet Samson Dawkins.