Gabe: The Alvarez Security Series

by Maryann Jordan

  “You may not be aware that Mr. Mason had no living relatives and until recently had no will. He came to me about a month ago and we discussed his affairs.”

  No relatives. Oh Jesus, the building could be auctioned off to the highest bidder and then we’d definitely be out. If it were a relative, I’d have a chance to ask them—

  “Ms. Lambert? Are you all right?”

  Startled out of her musing, she blushed. “Yes, I’m so sorry. I just…um…yes.”

  Nodding, he looked back down at the papers in front of him. “The details of his will for the most part do not concern you, but there is the matter of the property on 21st street that I understand you rent from him based on a grant.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  “Well, I am to inform you that the property, in its entirety, has been willed to you as sole owner. The will must go through probate, but I can assure you that both my partner and I conversed with Mr. Mason and he was of very sound mind when he wanted you to have the property.”

  Jennifer sat perfectly still, her numb mind racing to catch up to what her ears had heard. She stared at Mr. Marks, blinking but not really seeing. He looked at her in concern and stood quickly, walking around his desk grabbing a bottle of water from his credenza. Pressing it into her hands, he called for Sherrie to come.

  Sherrie, standing on the other side of his door, entered quickly and hurried over to her friend.

  Jennifer looked to Sherrie and then to the lawyer. “Me?” she muttered in disbelief. “He left it to me?”

  Sherrie smiled as she sat next to her, holding her hand. “Honey, I had no idea until Mr. Marks told me yesterday. I hadn’t drawn up the paperwork, but I couldn’t have told you even if I’d known. It’s yours. Really, truly yours.”

  Jennifer looked back toward the lawyer, cleared her throat and said truthfully, “I don’t know what to do with this news. Does this mean I can keep the Elder Center there? We don’t have to move? I’ve never owned property before so I don’t even know how that works. What about taxes?” Her eyes darted back to Sherrie’s as her breathing escalated.

  “Ms. Lambert,” Mr. Marks said calmly. “Everything will be fine. I would advise obtaining an attorney to assist with your needs. We would love to help you, but can give you the names of others equally suited to answer all of your questions. But for now, just rest in the assurance that you own the building. And nothing, except your deciding to sell or your death, will take it away.”

  Standing, he said, “There is one last thing.” He picked up an envelope from the file and handed it to her. “Mr. Mason left this for you. He said it would explain.”

  With shaky hands, she took the missive from him and opened it. Sherrie and Mr. Marks sat quietly as she pulled out the letter, written in scrawled handwriting.

  My dear Ms. Lambert,

  “for I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in”

  I have lived alone for many years since my Ester passed away, but meeting you was like seeing her again. She loved people and loved caring for them. She would have made a good mother, but God had other plans.

  I have been approached by greedy men to sell the building that houses your good work and have repeatedly refused. To ensure that you can continue doing for others what you offered to me that day…I give the building to you. Use it wisely.

  May God bless you for all that you do. Sincerely With affection, Stuart Mason

  Tears sprang to her eyes as the weight that had been pressing down on her for months began to recede. Sherrie hugged her tightly as the two women stood. Thanking Mr. Marks as she walked out, she could hear an angry voice from the reception area. It sounded like…Gabe.

  “I want to see Ms. Lambert right now. If you don’t get her, I’ll go back and—”

  “Gabe, I’m here,” she said running to him, seeing Rick standing to the side, knowing he must have reported to Gabe.

  “Baby, are you all right?” he asked, searching her face.

  “Yes, I’m great! You’re not going to believe it, but Mr. Mason left the building to me in his will!”

  Gabe stared numbly at first Jennifer and then at a smiling Sherrie before the realization hit him. She’s got the building. Oh shit. She’s now got a fuckin’ target on her back.

  “Honey, don’t you get it? I can keep the Center!” she said, not understanding the look of concern on his face.

  He schooled his expression and gave her a hug. Forcing a smile at Sherrie, he turned and told Rick, “I’ve got her. Tell Tony that I’ll be back in tomorrow for a meeting.”

  Rick nodded and walked out the door with Gabe and Jennifer following behind. As soon as they were settled in Gabe’s Jeep, she began to talk excitedly. Gabe let her ramble and forced himself to smile at the appropriate time and give encouraging nods.

  “Gabe, I’m not stupid. You’re not nearly as excited about this as you should be. Don’t you understand what this means?” she accused.

  “Babe, I do. Really I do.” Wrestling with how much to disclose to her, he wanted to make sure she was still vigilant. “My concern is that whoever killed Mr. Mason had no idea he had left a will, naming you as new owner of the building.”

  “But honey, that makes it all better. Once they know, they’ll back off. They’ll know that it’s now in my hands and I won’t sell.”

  Gabe glanced to the side, realizing that she understood the harshness of life but not the nefarious dealings of criminals. “Well, I’ll talk to Tony and we’re still keeping you on security detail.”

  “If it makes you feel better,” she agreed, but leaned back in the seat with the calm knowledge that her troubles for the time being were over.

  CHAPTER 19

  Tony and Shane were escorted into Michael Gibbons’s opulent office. Sharing a quick glance, they both acknowledged that the man was successful and had taste. Pictures on the wall showed him with politicians, both local and state, and at a closer glance indicated that he had been to the White House at one time. Pictures on his credenza showed what they assumed was his family. Well-tended wife and two children.

  “Detectives, welcome,” came the smooth voice from behind them as he entered. “Forgive my not being here when you arrived; I was just down the hall finishing up a conference. Please, sit down.” Turning to his secretary, he said, “Eloise, please bring in some coffee for the gentlemen.” She nodded and quietly left the room.

  “What can I help the Richland Police Department with today?” he asked, settling down behind his desk.

  Matt and Shane, now settled in the comfortable leather chairs, began. “Your real estate company has helped several companies acquire buildings in the downtown area for fairly low prices and then, once they are flipped, assisted them into selling them for a great profit.”

  Michael beamed proudly. “Yes, indeed. I’ve built a reputation with my company based on fairness but undoubtedly my clients know that I will seek a low buying price for them and a high selling price.” His face took on a concerned look as he continued, “But Detectives, there’s nothing wrong with this practice. Any reputable real estate company would do the same, I assure you.”

  Matt nodded, “Agreed. We’re not here to question your company’s tactics, but we are concerned about some of your clients.”

  At this Michael’s eyes grew wide in surprise. “My clients? Well, I suppose…I…I don’t know what to say to that. What kind of concerns are you talking about?”

  “We are investigating the extortion practices where someone threatens building owners into selling at a low price in order to acquire properties to then sell at a higher price.”

  “Threatens?” Michael said incredulously. “Detectives, my real estate business’ reputation is spotless. My realtors are hand-selected by me. Whether they are selling homes or high-end condos or dilapidated warehouses, they must perform to not only the industry’s, but my personal, high ethical standards.”

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sp; “Understood,” Matt agreed. “But it’s the clients that we want to pursue information on. As clients, they are not bound by your ethics.”

  Michael appeared to ponder this line of thinking for a moment, and then said, “I’m not sure how I can help you. You see, when a realtor is dealing with selling a home for a family, they get to know the family selling and often the family buying. That’s not to say that they can trust them, but they have a face to go with the client’s name.” Shrugging, he added, “But for our multi-million dollar deals with many clients…we never see them. The dealings are all done through lawyers or company front end people. My realtors and I rarely actually meet them.”

  His eyes darted between Matt and Shane.

  Shane had not voiced any questions yet. It was the tactic often used by Matt and him. Matt asked the questions, smoothly, succinctly. And Shane provided the ‘nerve factor’. The quiet, staring, brooding cop that made the interviewee nervous. And possibly slip.

  “So in most of these cases, you have never actually met someone representing the buyers?”

  “No, I haven’t. I will say that as the president of my company, I’m not often in the actual dealings anymore. You are more than welcome to talk to any of my realtors.”

  Eloise walked quietly back into the room and set the coffee service on the edge of his desk. She fixed a cup for Matt and Shane, handing it to them first and then turned to Michael setting his precisely on his desk where he could reach it easily.

  “Eloise, would you please get a list of our realtors who have sold properties in the downtown area for the past…” he looked at Matt in question.

  “Three years would be good,” Matt replied.

  Eloise nodded and left the room as quietly as she had entered. Within a few minutes, she returned and handed the list to Matt. Thanking her, Matt and Shane stood up and shook Michael’s hand. As he ushered them to the door, he added, “Detectives, I have worked hard to build up what I consider to be a reputable real estate business empire. I admit that I love the creature comforts that my successful business offers and do not need any illegal gains to do that. I hope you will be discrete in checking with my clients, but I will also say that I want no part of anyone who you find to be guilty.”

  Nodding once again he walked back into his office as Matt and Shane stepped onto the elevator. Moving to his desk, he placed a call. “Santo. My office. Now.”

  In the elevator, Matt looked at his partner, with his eyebrow lifted.

  “Prick’s guilty of somethin’. Too smooth. Too polished. Had the answers all ready. Don’t trust him.”

  Matt grinned as they left the building. His partner’s instincts were generally spot on, having spent two years in an undercover gang. “Good. Now maybe we’re getting close.” Looking down at his cell, he said, “Got a text from Tony. Seems like there’s another meeting.”

  *

  The group sat around Tony’s conference table after Gabe had dropped Jennifer off at her work and made sure someone was picking Ross up from school. Filling in everyone on the events of the morning, the group instantly recognized that the news that Jennifer responded to so positively was definitely another reason for needing to watch her carefully.

  Gabe looked at the group saying, “I’m so goddamn conflicted. I want to be happy for her ’cause this is huge to her and the Center. But if she had a target on her earlier…it’s even bigger now.”

  “I’d bet that whoever had Stuart Mason killed had no idea that he left the building to the one person who’d never sell,” Tony added.

  Matt had supplied Lily and BJ with the list of clients and they had been running them through the various databases, looking for more intel on them. He looked over at his wife and as she caught his gaze, she just shook her head. “Sorry, honey. Nothing yet. These companies are buried within other companies. But nothing to tie them back to Micahel Gibbons yet.”

  “Keep looking,” Tony quipped, then turned back to the group at hand. “And keep the rotation schedule up on Jennifer and Ross.”

  Standing to leave, Vinny clapped his brother on the back. “You okay, bro?”

  Gabe turned to look into his twin’s eyes. “Got a bad feeling the shit is just getting started.”

  Vinny nodded, knowing the feeling. It was the same feeling they all would get before a mission that felt off. As though no matter how much they planned, something major was going to happen.

  *

  Jennifer bounded into her office, grabbing Roy and Sybil to give them the news. Chip and a few other social workers came by as well. Smiles and congratulations abounded, as the group knew how important this was to the Center.

  “Oh girl, when are you going to share the news with the residents?” Sybil asked.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t even processed how great this is. I’ll have to meet with an attorney to have everything put in order, but I’ll try to go by tomorrow. They are going to be so excited!”

  Chip nodded saying, “Can’t believe your good fortune, but you’ve worked hard for this.”

  She eyed him, wondering if his words were heartfelt or not. He seemed pleased, but she could not help the niggling feeling that something was off. Just then, Roy walked over carrying a big bottle of Sprite and paper cups.

  “Okay, it’s not champagne, but it’ll have to do,” he said laughing.

  The group celebrated with cups of Sprite and toasts to an easier future for the Elder Center. As overworked, underpaid social workers, they definitely knew how to celebrate when the news was good. Turning back to the group, Jennifer could not help but notice that Chip had walked back to his office and was not celebrating. Biting her lip in thought, she was quickly pulled back into the celebrations with her co-workers.

  *

  A little later a phone call was made to Michael Gibbons’ private line.

  “Just got the news straight from her. Stuart Mason left her the building in his will. It’s hers legally now.”

  Michael disconnected the line without saying a word. Looking at the woman between his legs sucking him off, he surged forward unloading into her mouth without warning. But she took it. Quickly swallowing, she stayed on her knees until he indicated for her to rise. Realizing his mood had turned with the phone call, she quietly left the room the way she came.

  Walking out of the building, one of Michael’s men escorted her to an expensive car and she drove away. Eyes bored into her from another car on the street. Theresa took off her designer sunglasses and recognized the woman leaving. The dark-haired beauty caught Michael’s eye one night while he was out with her and the flash of jealousy ate at her then and angered her now. Vowing revenge, she held off placing the call until a later time. When it would hurt him the most.

  *

  Santo walked back into Michael’s office having received the message from Eloise to come immediately. He had spoken to Michael earlier after the detectives left and was confident that none of their dealings could be traced back to Gibbons Realties.

  He found Michael standing at the wall of windows looking once again at the night skyline. Before he could greet his boss, Michael turned and viciously growled, “I want her signature on a deed of sale or I want her dead.”

  Santo stopped, waiting for him to continue.

  “That goddamn old man left Ms. Lambert the property in his will.” Seeing Santo’s surprised look, he added, “Yeah. We’ve covered every angle with this and still that bitch is thwarting me. I want that building and I don’t care how. Bury it in a lot of cover-ups, but I want it done with no blow-back.”

  Santo was quiet for a moment as the thoughts churned in his head. A slow smile spread over his face as he turned to his boss. Michael looked at him with a questioning look.

  “We return to the old days,” Santo said, recalling Michael’s story of his grandfather and great-grandfather. “Grab the brother and hold him over her head. She signs the building over or we kill him. She stays quiet because we’ll kill him if she doesn’t.”

  M
ichael’s calculating expression turned back to the windows as he pondered Santo’s solution. “Too many ways to trace that back to us. Too much of a chance that blow-back lands right in our lap.” Turning to Santo, he said simply, “Grab them both. Hold them and find a way to kill them both making it look like an accident. She’s gone and her heir is gone. The building goes on the auction block and will easily fall to me.”

  Santo smile grew wider as he nodded toward his boss. “I like it. Just like the old days of your grandfather.”

  Michael turned and walked over to his credenza, pouring two large whiskeys into tumblers. Handing one to his right-hand man who had never failed him, he lifted his glass. “To the old days,” he said smiling.

  *

  “Where’s Ross?” Jennifer asked Cora as she ducked by a painter’s ladder in the recreation room. The men were trying to clean up for the evening and move their equipment to the side.

  “He’s upstairs,” Cora replied. “When that nice young man from Mr. Alvarez’ brought him in from school, Ross said he had homework to finish so that Gabe would have time to teach him how to swim when you two went home.”

  Jennifer had to smile, the thought of Gabe patiently teaching Ross how to swim in the pool in his apartment building. Vinny would often come along to help but usually did more dunking and splashing than teaching.

  Running upstairs and using her special knock, she entered the old apartment. Ross, looking up with a smile, said, “Are we ready to go yet?”

  “Not quite,” she answered, bending down to kiss the top of his head. “I’ve got to take a picture of the residents and it will take a bit to gather them.”

  Turning back to his homework, he said, “Okay. Just let me know when you are ready to leave.”

  Hurrying back downstairs, she passed the painters finishing the hallway. “It looks good,” she complimented them.

  Several minutes later, she begged, “Come on, everyone smile.” Jennifer was trying to settle the residents of the Center on the front steps for a group picture. It was almost dusk and she regretted waiting so late to take the picture. When she was in the center earlier, she gathered them into the dining room and told them the good news. Henry and Cora stood to the side as the residents surged forward for hugs and congratulations. As they trickled back, Jennifer saw her two friends, with tears in their eyes, moving forward. Throwing her arms around them she felt their heartfelt relief at the news.