by Ted Clifton
Sam also knew all of the people to contact. She knew where she could hire the people with the skills they’d need to make this church a success. Everything was about image and marketing and she was ready for success.
Sam also knew that Mike would do what she told him to. In an odd way she had transferred her sexual addition to Mike—she had cured herself, but now used sex to completely control and humiliate him.
She needed to get Mike away from his useless buddy Joe. If there was money around, Mike would find an excuse to give some to Joe for no reason at all. Their long-term friendship had been kind of cute at first, but had become annoying in the last few years. Mike had taken advice from this complete loser about his business, now he was bankrupt. She couldn’t let Joe talk Mike into some stupid scheme involving her money. She needed to exercise even more control over Mike. She needed to do it right now.
Las Cruces, New Mexico / Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
The next morning, Mike called Jeff and told him what Emerson had offered, adding that he wanted to accept the deal.
“Mike, we can handle the legal transfer of the properties as payment for the shares in Blue Devils Development—that can be done in a few days. I guess I don’t know if this is the thing to do, but it’s a business decision so whatever you think is right is what you should do.”
Mike thanked him and said that they should get started. He told Jeff that they were headed to Emerson’s office, where Mike would agree to the deal. He would have Emerson contact Jeff to put all of the paperwork in place.
Joe and Mike followed the pattern of the day before: they packed up, loaded the car, and then checked out of the hotel. They made the quick drive to downtown Las Cruces and parked in front of Emerson’s office.
Emerson was standing in the front area when they entered. He greeted them and showed them to his office.
“Mr. Emerson, we appreciate you sharing the information yesterday. Joe was able to determine that what you had told us regarding the values was correct. I’ve given this a lot of thought. I can’t know for sure what you and my father agreed to, but I think there must have been some kind of understanding since he had left you alone for so many years before he died. If you had an understanding with him, I want to honor it. Of course, I could have convinced myself that none of that was true. My father may have ignored you because he just didn’t care about any of that stuff anymore—he became a different man after he quit bootlegging. But it just doesn’t matter. Bottom line, I want to complete the deal you outlined.”
“I appreciate your candor, and I believe that is the best decision for everyone.” Emerson hadn’t been very expressive at any time since they had met him, but he seemed genuinely pleased that they had agreed. It was also clear that there would be no celebration party and that it was fine with Emerson for them to leave any time they were ready.
“I talked to Jeff Young this morning and instructed him to work with you or your attorney to complete the necessary paperwork. I’m sure I’ll be able to sign in Oklahoma City, and you can do it here. Then we can exchange documents. I don’t anticipate returning to Las Cruces. I wish you luck, Mr. Emerson.”
With that Mike stood to leave. “I’ll instruct my attorney to contact Mr. Young, and I’m sure we can get the documents in shape in a day or two. Thank you again, Mr. Allen, and I wish you a safe trip home.”
Joe and Mike left. They had a 1:00 pm flight, so they needed to head to the airport. They were both quiet along the way. There was no doubt that this was going to change something. As they drove, they discussed how they should proceed in examining the properties. Mike wanted to make sure Joe knew to bill him for all of the time he took helping to make the deal happen. Joe kept his thoughts to himself—he’d turned down $600,000 and now Mike was suggesting he write up a bill for a couple of thousand? Maybe Mike’s new found wealth was making him a complete asshole.
They arrived at the El Paso airport in plenty of time for their flight. They returned the car and went to the counter to check their luggage. The flight home was without incident and without much conversation. Joe thought he was sensing something from Mike, but he wasn’t sure what it was so he left it alone.
At the Oklahoma City airport they went their separate ways, agreeing to touch base once the papers were signed so that they could inspect the properties and talk about how to handle the accounting and management. There was no mention of getting together and celebrating. It felt more like Mike had lost something rather than gained property worth over a million bucks.
The next week, Mike called and left a message for Joe that he had signed all of the documents and had received signed copies from Jeff, so the deal was done. He wanted to meet at Joe’s office the next Friday to discuss accounting matters and maybe make a quick run by the Second Street properties to see what needed to be done with them. He said he should have all of the keys by then.
“Well, Mike, how does it feel to be a man of property?”
“Very funny. So far it’s been nothing except a pain in the butt—but I guess someday the money will start to roll in.”
Joe was starting to get a little annoyed at Mike’s attitude. What the hell did he want, a big pile of cash to just fall in his lap? Jeez, what a fucking grouch this guy was—more assets than he’d ever had and it sounded like he was having to clean the toilets in the damn buildings. What bullshit. Joe was getting pissed, tired of dealing with the “poor me” whining from Mike.
“Hey, why don’t we run over to those Second Street properties and see how bad they are?” Maybe a field trip would help his mood—maybe Mike’s, too.
“Yeah, I guess we don’t exactly need to look at Triples.” Mike was grinning, which was a little better.
“Something else Joe. I heard from the Dallas law firm. They confirmed my dad had hired them to perform certain duties including paying the lock box rental and the property taxes on the cabin. An escrow account had been established and funded to pay those things for approximately fifteen years or until the money ran out. Once they had been notified of the lock box being closed and the property being sold, they sent me a settlement letter. With the letter was a check for about $4,000 which was the remaining balance in the escrow account. So I guess I’m wrong, some money’s rolled in and I should cheer up. Sorry, guess I’m too busy or something to be cheerful. Let’s go look at those old buildings.”
The two properties were next door to one another, so they parked in front. Both of them had driven past since the purchase, so the condition of the outside wasn’t a surprise. What the insides looked like, they had no idea. The outside was obviously in need of some attention, maybe a lot. Joe guessed it had been many years since much had been done on the buildings. Some windows were boarded up with plywood, while others had been painted over so you couldn’t see inside. Layers of graffiti covered most of the walls. Joe thought Mike should probably just take a minimum offer on the old things and get rid of them and Mike thought that was probably right.
Mike unlocked the padlock on the front door of the first building, which had been a night club. Second Street had changed a lot from its heyday. Joe had been told that back in the 50s this had been a high traffic area, with lots of pedestrians. There had been numerous shops and small businesses that served the community—barber shops, shoe repair shops, and a couple of appliance stores that did a booming business. Now there was little automobile traffic and almost no pedestrians.
The door seemed to be jammed, but they were able to force it open. Once they were inside, they could see the remains of what had been a bar or restaurant. A huge bar counter wrapped around one side of the building, while off to one side there was what appeared to be a bandstand with a dance floor in front. Everything was filthy, but it didn’t appear to have suffered a great deal of damage.
“Some of this old stuff, like that monster of a big bar, could be worth some money.” Joe was amazed that everything was in relatively in good shape. They looked into what must have been the kitchen area. All of
the equipment had been removed, and there appeared to be some damage to one wall, maybe where something had been taken out.
“This is a huge kitchen. Must have done a hell of a business at one time. Kind of strange to grow up in a town and not be aware that places like this even existed. I mean, we were just kids, but it still seems like it should be better known than it is—don’t you think? I bet it was an interesting place back then.” Joe was much more interested than Mike, who said nothing.
They poked around for a while without finding much. “Looks like the building is in better shape than I would have guessed but still, in this part of town right now I’m not sure you could rent it for much of anything. And it would take a bunch of money just to clean it up. Maybe you could find someone opening a bar with a 50s theme who would pay to have some of this stuff, but that would be a long shot.”
Mike agreed with Joe. It was an old building full of a bunch of interesting junk. “Look over here.” Joe was standing in front of a door. “Stairs going down to the basement—shall we complete the tour?”
Mike was not real sure they should, but Joe had his flashlight on and was headed down. “Watch your step! Coming down I found a couple of places where there are some loose boards.” Great—inherit a million bucks and kill yourself inspecting this old death trap.
Joe was at the bottom. He poked around for a while, but mostly just found junk. “No need to bother coming down Mike—all I see is more junk and dirt.” Joe cautiously went back up stairs. “Just one big goddamn mess down there.”
Mike said, “Joe please watch your language.”
Joe wished he had the old Mike with him, because this new one was a pain in the ass.
“Guess we should look inside the building next door. Do you know what it used to be?”
“No, all I could find out was that it’s been vacant longer than the night club building, so more than likely the inside is in even worse shape. Keep in mind, Mike, you basically paid nothing for these buildings and someday the land might be worth something.”
Mike grunted something Joe couldn’t make out and they headed next door. Surprisingly, the door to this building opened more easily than the one in the first building. They entered what obviously had been a small lobby area in a hotel. While incredibly dirty, the overall condition of the inside was amazingly good.
“Never would have guessed that this had been a hotel. Must be about fifteen or so rooms. Man, I bet there are some stories about this old place.”
Once again Mike hung back, standing close to the front door, as Joe ventured off to explore. The building had only two stories. On the first floor was a small dining room and kitchen, the lobby, an office, and five guest rooms. Joe started opening doors and looking into the rooms.
“Hey, Mike. Don’t just stand there, help me out. Why don’t you go upstairs and look in the rooms there?”
“Look, Joe, I know you still think we’re going to stumble across millions, but I don’t. I’ve seen enough of these old broken-down buildings. Let’s go before we hurt ourselves.”
Joe couldn’t believe this was the same Mike who used to be the adventuresome one of the pair. Joe poked around the front desk area as he listened to his one-time best friend whine. Suddenly Joe stopped.
“Son of a bitch—look at that.” Joe was pointing above the key area behind the front desk.
Mike walked up and looked where Joe was pointing. “Son of a bitch!”
Faded but still visible were the words St Francis Hotel.
They both recalled the letter from Mike’s dad. And remember, your path to financial independence goes through Deep Deuce at the St. Francis.
“I’m not sure I’m believing this.”
The boredom had left Mike’s face and there was something close to the old Mike’s gleam in his eyes. They quickly looked around the front desk, as if there might be stacks of money just lying around. They looked at each other and began laughing—it felt like old times.
Joe began organizing their search. He had Mike go upstairs and check each guest room, looking for anything out of place. Joe searched the main floor—guest rooms, lobby, offices, and kitchen.
After several hours they stopped and sat down on the floor, dirt be damned, in the lobby.
“I don’t know, Joe. Maybe my dad really was crazy and this is just some kind of old man’s sick joke.”
Joe started to laugh. Soon they were both laughing. Sweaty, dirty, and tired, now everything was funny. No matter what happened today, at least they’d enjoyed a few good laughs, just like they used to.
“Well we’re not done, yet. There’s an area in the kitchen I was going to explore some more. Come on, let’s finish this and go have a drink.”
“Not sure about a drink, but let’s finish.” The new Mike was back.
Joe showed Mike what he was talking about. There was a large cabinet that looked out of place. Joe said he wanted to move it and see if there was anything behind it. The cabinet was empty, so with both of them they were able to move it aside. Behind the cabinet was an unusual door—it looked almost like a small elevator door.
“I think that’s some kind of dumbwaiter or freight elevator. Jeez, I think there must be a basement.”
There was no visible way of opening the door. Joe went off looking for some kind of tool to pry it opened. He came back with a fire hatchet.
“I guess if I can’t pry the damn thing open, I can always just chop it up.”
Mike looked sullen again. The time for joking had passed.
Joe managed to pry the door open. It was a small freight elevator, about five feet high inside, so a man could get in but would have to stoop. It appeared to be a mechanical operation, with a pulley in place. Joe grabbed the pulley chain and pulled—the elevator started to move down. He reversed the action and the elevator moved back up. Neither Joe nor Mike were anxious to test the thing. They decided the better course of action was to look for stair access to the basement, but after another lengthy search they decided it didn’t exist, as odd as that seemed. Joe got his flashlight.
“I’m going down. If I’m not back up in about thirty minutes, call the fire department.” Cautious Joe had become Indiana Jones.
He climbed into the elevator, testing each step. Once inside, he worked the pulley and the elevator crept slowly down. The basement had a low ceiling, so the distance he descended wasn’t great, but to Joe it felt like it took forever. There was no door on the basement level, so Joe could immediately see into the room with his flashlight. The area was large, with a huge, room-like structure in one corner. It was surprisingly uncluttered. He got out of the elevator and yelled up to Mike that he was down. Looking around, he found a set of stairs going up to a door. He couldn’t believe that they hadn’t found the stairs from above. He went up the stairs and opened the door—and there was another door. The second door slid sideways, and he found himself in the office area behind the front desk. Joe stepped out and saw that the door had been carefully hidden. It matched the wall perfectly—no wonder they hadn’t found it. He went to find Mike.
They went back down the stairs. Joe went over to the boxy structure and cleared away the accumulated junk from the front.
“This thing looks like a safe.”
“Did you say a safe?” That seemed to get Mike’s attention.
“I guess—at least that’s a safe door.” Joe pushed some more stuff out of the way. “My god, this thing is huge. It’s a fucking room.” Mike made a face. “Look at this. It must be thirty feet long by about fifteen feet across and eight feet high.”
“Probably used it to store food or something.”
“Why would you have a safe to store food?” Joe was not enjoying new Mike’s attitude. “Wait a minute, look at this—this is a combination lock. Son of a bitch! Do you have that piece of paper from the lock box?” Joe was excited—could that be the combination to this gigantic safe? He knew it sounded farfetched, but Mike’s dad was connected to all of this—the safe in the basement
of his old building, a combination code in a lock box owned by his dad—why the hell not!
“I think it’s in my briefcase in the car. You really think that could be the combination? And even if it is, no doubt the thing will be empty, or full of old rotten food.”
“Just go get the paper, Mike, and let’s see. If it’s full of rotten food we’ll shut the door and leave. Okay?” Joe almost hoped it was full of old food—just what sourpuss deserved.
Mike was getting pretty good at making holier-than-thou faces, and he made one now, but he went back up the stairs to get the briefcase.
It took Mike what seemed like a long time to get the briefcase and get back down the stairs. Of course, standing in the middle of an old creepy building next to an old spooky safe might have had something to do with time moving slowly. Joe began to imagine all sorts of things that could be in a safe that large—things that might jump out and grab him when they opened the door. Blimey, he was going to have a drink after this was over.
Mike handed the slip of paper to him. Joe began turning the dial, which was surprisingly smooth. Don’t build them like that anymore. Joe completed the combination and looked up at Mike, “Ready?”
“Yeah, open it.”
Joe moved some more stuff out of the way to clear a path for the door, then turned the handle and opened it. Joe shined the light inside: there were hundreds of boxes, wooden crates that all looked alike. They were heavy duty and most were marked as restaurant supplies.
“What do you think they are?” Even Mike sounded a little excited.
“No idea. Let me get something and let’s see if we can open one.” Joe went off looking for something to use as a lever, something less dangerous than the hatchet. He searched for a while without any luck, then went up to the kitchen and came back with a mallet and knife. “Probably not the safest tool, but it was all I could find—still better than the hatchet.”