Rory: Hope City, Book 7

by Maryann Jordan

  The last statement brought a gasp from Sandy, and she sat up straighter. “Oh, my God!” Rory squeezed her fingers, and she looked to see Erin’s wide-eyed gaze and Sharon shaking her head sadly.

  “A lot of people think the old-world connections have fallen by the wayside and that organized crime is dominated mostly by the newer drug gangs from south of our borders, such as El Salvador and Mexico. But you can’t discount the Russian Mafia influence. I didn’t work the case, but just a couple of years ago, almost thirty members of the Russian Mafia were arrested and charged with extortion, racketeering, illegal gambling, firearm offenses, narcotics trafficking, wire fraud, credit card fraud, identity theft, using electronic hacking devices, and even murder for hire.”

  By this time, Sandy’s head was ready to explode. “I confess to having done some digging into this, but somehow, hearing it from you makes it all seem more real. And scarier.”

  “Whatever you’re looking at, you need to be very careful. If you have information, you need to turn it over to the authorities and not go digging yourself.” Colm’s unsmiling expression held hers, and she swallowed deeply.

  “Sandy—”

  She jerked her head to the side. “Rory, don’t start. I’m not investigating. Honestly. I was just checking in to what was happening with Perkins Electrical.”

  “Perkins Electrical.” Colm nodded, his mouth pursed as though tasting something sour.

  “Sweetheart, let’s clear the table and take dessert to the den. If we’re going to have this serious conversation, we should get comfortable.” Sharon patted his arm and stood, joined by the others as they made quick work of taking the empty plates to the sink to rinse before putting them in the dishwasher.

  Sharon cut slices of cherry pie while Erin made a pot of coffee. Once the gathering was settled in the deep-cushioned chairs and sofa of the den, Sandy turned her attention back to Colm. “Bekki was able to tell me that the original owner of Perkins Electrical was a man named Feodore Petrov, a dock worker. He did electricity work on the docks. I wasn’t able to find much on him, but I know that his family became successful and there were questions about his dealings with the local politicians.”

  Colm nodded. “When the case against Perkins Electrical broke, most of us agents had to become familiar with his story. Feodore Petrov’s parents immigrated from Russia in the late 1800s. His father got work on the docks. By the early 1900s, electricity was now being used in industries, and Feodore was an adult and quickly learned what he could, becoming indispensable around the docks as he worked with the wiring to supply this new energy source. By the first World War, his personal wealth grew from just a dockworker to a great deal more, and while never proved, the supposition was he had the backing of men with deep pockets who wanted the most modern ways to work the docks and harbor. Chances are that money came both from the Russian Mafia, which would’ve been well-rooted in his neighborhood, and those in positions of power in Hope City.”

  Rory shook his head and asked, “Dad, how do you know all this?”

  “I was just going to ask the same thing.” Erin had finished her pie and set her plate down, drawing her feet up into the chair, wrapping her arms around her shins and resting her head on her knees. “This is fascinating. Way more interesting than what I learned in high school history.”

  “All this was history that came around to bite us in the ass when I was first an FBI agent in Hope City. Again, it wasn’t my case, but it was in the news at the time.” He set his dessert plate down, offering Sharon an appreciative smile and wink. Settling deeper into his chair, he continued his story.

  “By this time, Feodore’s parents had passed, and wanting a more generic name, he started going by Frederick Perkins. He never had his name officially changed, but he simply adopted a new name, and it is what was used by the rest of the family. He stopped working for the docks and started his own business, Perkins Electrical Company. He hired and trained as many electricians as he could get his hands on, cornering the market in Hope City by World War II. There were laws that were supposed to be in use for monopolies, fair business practices, and certainly war profiteering, but it doesn’t seem like any of those affected him. Perkins Electrical grew to be a multimillion-dollar business that continued to profit as the economy grew after the war. His son, the next Frederick Perkins, took over in the 1960s. He turned out to be more ruthless than his father. Where the FBI came in was in the late 1990’s when it was discovered Perkins Electrical was paying off Hope City officials, gaining contracts and paying off inspectors.”

  Nodding emphatically, Sandy said, “That’s what I was finding out, but I had no idea about his history.”

  “Hope City was rife with corruption. Payoffs went to the Russian Mafia and Italian Mafia. Neither who liked each other, by the way, but both working the officials on the take,” Colm continued.

  “They were found guilty and had huge fines, right?”

  “Yes. Frederick Perkins, Junior, was found guilty and only missed jail time because he died soon after the trial. Perkins Electrical had huge fines levied against them, which they managed to pay off easily.”

  Rory snorted. “Probably paid off by the Mafia.”

  Colm nodded. “Undoubtedly. The family was taken over by the next son, Theodore Perkins. He worked with the feds, supposedly rooted out all the illegal activities, and cleaned house. At the same time, Hope City officials were doing the same thing. Corrupt officials that had been in power for a long time were retiring to avoid prosecution. Newer, younger people were hired and running for office. Things changed for the better, and to be honest, I haven’t heard anything about Perkins Electrical in a while.”

  Sandy slumped back against Rory and sighed. “I’ve probably made a big deal about nothing. I’ve seen some shoddy work that I don’t think should pass inspection. But that doesn’t mean there’s a systemic problem. It could just mean that they’ve hired a few electricians who aren’t very good at their job. I’ve brought it up to Anthony Partridge as well as Dave, the man in charge of the office floors of the building construction.”

  “Then I think you’ve done everything you can,” Colm said. “As innocent as it seems, you don’t want to stir up anything to do with the Russian Mafia. If you think you’ve come up with something, let me know, and I’ll pass it along to my fellow agents at the Bureau.”

  Rory turned to her and raised his eyebrow, but she quickly reminded him, “I’m not whacking a hornet’s nest, honey. I’m not investigating like your brothers. I’m not even reporting like Bekki. I’m checking to make sure that work passes inspection so that my clients are happy. Other than that, I’m out of it!”

  They soon left after hugs and promises to come back soon. Driving back to her townhouse, she twisted in her seat and peered at him, his face illuminated by the dashboard and streetlights. “So, when were you going to tell me?”

  His brow furrowed. “Tell you?”

  “Yes,” she huffed. “Tell me about looking for a place to live.”

  “Oh.”

  “Rory! Oh? Is that all you have to say?”

  He parked outside her condo and cut the engine. Turning to face her, he sighed. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. It’s just that I… well, I’m out of my element and that’s kind of embarrassing to admit.”

  “Embarrassing? I don’t understand, sweetie.”

  “I’m twenty-nine years old and have never had my own place.”

  “Well, of course not, but that’s not embarrassing. You went from home to the military. You haven’t been out very long, and you’ve been working and saving. Honey, nothing is embarrassing about that at all!”

  He was silent for a moment, then blew out a long breath. “The apartment I’m in now is okay but I’ve got three other roommates. Granted, we’re all on different shifts so sometimes it feels like my own place, but not a place I’d want to take you to.”

  “What did you do with other women?”

  “Shit, Sandy, I’m not going
to talk about that!”

  “Look, it’s not like I thought you were Saint Rory, Defender of Chastity before we got together.”

  He snorted. “Christ, you’re a goof.”

  Laughing, she shrugged. “Well, I saw you with enough women from the Cock to know that sainthood wasn’t your calling.”

  His mirth fled his face. “I’m sorry about that. It was… well, insensitive at best and downright stupid and mean at worst.” She remained quiet, and he finally added, “I didn’t hook up as much as you might have thought. Never enough time or energy while working and studying. But, well, I guess I figured out what worked depending on where everyone was.”

  She nodded, a little sad but hardly able to be upset over what he did when they hadn’t been dating. He was now quiet, and she reached over to place her hand on his, licking her dry lips. “You know, there’s no reason for you to need a place for me to visit when you can come here… anytime you want.”

  He leaned closer, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb sweeping over her cheek. “Anytime?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, you don’t need to rush just because of me. If you want to get your own place, fine. If you want to stay where you are to save money until you know exactly what you want, that’s fine, too. And as far as us… you’re perfect here with me whenever you desire.”

  He held her gaze and she warmed under his perusal. “Better be careful what you offer, Sandy. I might be tempted to take you up on it.”

  She smiled, slowly at first, then wider. Leaning the rest of the way in, she kissed him. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll show you just how much I want you here with me.”

  Pulling her close, he took the kiss deeper. Just like the first kiss they shared, she felt the tingle down to her bones. As his tongue glided over hers, she clutched his shoulders, wondering if she could straddle him without her ass hitting the steering wheel or sitting on the horn. As though he knew what she was thinking, he pulled back, mumbling, “Let’s get inside.”

  She hated to separate but agreed with his plan. Alighting from his truck, they hurried to her door, quickly unlocking it and rushing through.

  Making sure her front door was locked behind them, he stopped and held on to her arm as she tried to pull him toward the stairs. “Babe?”

  She turned to look up at him, her head cocked as she waited to see what he wanted to say.

  “Being here with you is perfect, but you’ve got to know that while I don’t have my own apartment right now, I can’t consider this my place. I know that might seem stupidly macho or something but—”

  She placed her fingers on his lips, halting his words. “I know. I know that you’d always feel that this place was mine and not ours.” Lifting on her toes, she stopped when her lips were a bare whisper from his. “So, when the time is right, we can find a place that’s ours.”

  His eyes widened, but she launched herself toward him, erasing any distance between their bodies. Without breaking the kiss, he scooped her up into his arms and took the stairs two at a time. She hoped Ocee didn’t get underfoot. After all, she wanted nothing to get in the way between her, Rory, and the bed.

  24

  “Dave, this is amazing!” Sandy had carefully toured the offices on the first eight floors of the Partridge Tower, thrilled with the results. Those that were already leased had their furniture and decor completed, thanks to Barbara. The office spaces that had not been leased at this time had been generically designed and now stood ready for potential clients to view.

  Everything from the tile and carpet to the room placements and walls and inner windows, doors, cabinets, outer window treatments, conference rooms, workrooms, break rooms, and especially the executive offices were exactly as Carmichael Designs had created.

  “According to Anthony, he now has new leases that complete the third, fourth, and fifth floors,” Dave said, looking down at his clipboard.

  “Oh, wow, that’s even more than the other day.” Sandy stood in the middle of the floor lobby and turned slowly, her gaze carefully moving over the entire space. Turning back to Dave, she looked at the clipboard in his hand and laughed. “I see you’re still using the clipboard and not the tablet.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “I use them both, but I’d prefer flipping through papers to find what I want rather than poking onto a tablet. Guess I just like doing things the old-fashioned way.”

  They wandered into one of the workrooms, and she looked at the electrical outlets that were placed along the top edge of the counter. Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, “And everything was inspected? Um… according to the code requirements for a building this size?”

  His lips twitched as he held her gaze. “Signed off on everything, Ms. Carmichael. I know you had concerns, but I followed through with the inspector and Perkins Electrical. I talked directly with the company president, Mr. Perkins himself.”

  “Good. Now Anthony and his father, Albert, can get ready for the grand opening. Will you be there?”

  Snorting, he sighed heavily. “Yes, but I won’t be in a black tie. I’ll just come in my wedding and funeral suit.”

  In the process of checking the window treatments in one of the offices, she stopped, her hands still raised in the air. Eyes wide, she stared at him. “Funeral suit?”

  He chuckled. “You know, every man has a suit that he only drags out if he has to go to something special, like weddings or a funeral.”

  “I… I… uh… I can’t figure out if that’s ghoulish or smart!” She turned back to the window, reaching as high as she could to straighten the blinds that appeared to be crooked. Dave laid his clipboard and tablet down on a nearby desk and stepped over to assist.

  “Dave!”

  They turned at the sound of one of the men standing at the doorway.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed up in condo thirteen-oh-seven. A potential buyer is up there and has some questions the realtor doesn’t know how to answer.”

  “Where’s the condo project manager?”

  “Dunno, but the realtor called for someone to come.”

  Just then, Dave’s phone rang, and he grumbled as he hustled toward the elevator. “I thought things were busy as this place was being built. You’d think my job here was almost over, but now it seems like there are more fires to put out.”

  Now alone, she stood in the space and just let the emotions of a completed job roll over her. Satisfaction and pride. Then, with a hands-in-the-air dance, she celebrated the fact that Carmichael Designs’ phone had been ringing with potential new clients who had heard about the work she had accomplished at Partridge Tower.

  Flipping off the light switch as she left the office, she heard a slight crackle behind the switch cover. Stopping, she stepped back into the room. She flipped the switch back on and the small pop sound was barely audible. Wondering if it was simply the click of a new light switch, she flipped it several times, hearing the sound again, this time followed by more of a crackle than a pop. Reaching into her large purse, she pulled out her cosmetic bag and searched for a nail file. No luck. Glancing around for something to use on the screws of the switch plate, her gaze landed on the clipboard left behind by Dave. Several paperclips were holding various papers together.

  Grabbing a paperclip, she moved back to the switch plate and began undoing the six screws holding it to the wall. Once completed, she gently pried it away so that none of the wall paint would stick to it. Glancing inside, she saw a conglomerate of wires shoved into the space, but stood for a moment, indecision running through her. I’m no electrician. Maybe it’s fine. Good grief, it was inspected. Wasn’t it?

  Ignoring the part of her that wanted to walk away, she grabbed her phone and snapped a picture before carefully screwing the switch plate back in place. Pulling up the picture, she added text indicating the location and floor. Still using the paperclip, she moved quickly to other rooms and offices on the floor, unscrewing switch plates and outlet plates. At each one, she snapped a picture and
identified its location before screwing the plate back on. Standing in front of the fuse box for the office, she hesitated before opening it as well. Still having no idea if it looked correct or not, she snapped more pictures.

  A prickle of unease slid through her. Walking back to Dave’s clipboard, she looked at the thick sheaf of papers. “A lady never snoops. But neither does she ignore what is right in front of her.”

  Mumbling, “I’m not snooping, Grandmother. I just need to see what papers might need to be clipped together again.” She flipped through the file folder glancing at each page. She didn’t see anything relevant until she came to a single piece of paper with names and email addresses printed on it. The one that stood out was for Hope City Building Inspector. Martin Kovski. She had no idea if this was the person who had inspected all of the work, some of it, or perhaps none of it. But she quickly snapped a picture of that list of names and numbers, making sure Dave’s clipboard looked just as it did when he’d left the room.

  Keeping the paperclip, she moved to several of the other offices and floors, noting the differences in electrical work. She wasn’t surprised at the findings, considering multiple electricians from Perkins Electrical Company worked on the many various projects in the building. Opening a fuse box in one of the offices, she stared and snapped a few more pictures before deciding to not waste more time looking at the wiring, most of which she didn’t understand. She grabbed her few items and headed back to the first floor, her pride and excitement lessened with concern.

  Stepping out of the elevator into the lobby she placed a call to the number on Dave’s list, not surprised to find that she had to leave a message.

  “Mr. Kovski, this is Sandra Carmichael of Carmichael Designs. I’d like you to return my call concerning the inspection of the electrical work done at Partridge Tower. The building is almost ready to open, and I want to make sure the work completed by Perkins Electrical was installed according to the code. Thank you.” Leaving her phone number, she shoved her phone back into her purse.