They headed to the break room to brew a fresh pot of coffee. Sam broke the ice by telling Tim he had driven around to several of the pension fund properties that afternoon and his conclusions were not comforting. Two of the centers were well maintained; two were not. Two of them were fully leased; the others were half vacant. He then recounted his conversation with Debra at the hospital thrift shop and his observation of a suspected drug deal in the parking lot.
Tim listened thoughtfully. “This ties in to what I found,” he said. The two men took the pot of coffee to a conference room. Tim slid a stack of papers over to Sam. “I’ve printed out all of the ownership records for the properties that the pension fund has loans on. I’ve printed out the loan documents, too,” he added. “They fall into two different groups. One set of properties is owned by Wheeler or his cronies or offshore entities. The other properties are owned by people I’ve known for years who try to make their living as decent landlords. I gave copies to Beth, and she’s going to put it all in her spreadsheet tonight. I thought we could drive around and look at the properties together. You could determine their condition, and I could come up with a rough guess as to their value.”
Sam agreed. “Let’s look at the documents on the centers I went to this afternoon. I’ll bet we’ll find that the well-maintained ones are owned by the Wheeler bunch and the struggling centers are owned by the honest landlords.”
“I’m guessing Wheeler has big loans with low payments and below-market interest rates,” Tim added. “And the other loans have adjustable rates and huge payments that are crushing the honest landlords. They may be driving the honest ones out of business and buying their distressed properties for a song at foreclosure, without anyone suspecting that they are part of a conspiracy to drive them out of business. The more we look into this, the worse it gets.”
“Pretty clever plan they had going,” Sam said. “Don’t they call it predatory lending? If they hadn’t done so much of it and jeopardized payments to pensioners, we would never have investigated.”
Tim nodded. “Yep—that’s what happens when you get greedy. And this group is really greedy.”
***
Chuck Delgado was nervously pacing in his upstairs office while Russell Isaac wearily scanned a discarded copy of the morning’s sports section.
“For Pete’s sake, Chuck. I’m too old for this two a.m. clandestine-meeting nonsense. Why the hell couldn’t we have met with him earlier? Next time, grow some balls when he calls.”
“Why don’t I just let you clean up this mess? Jackass.”
“Your brother is the genius who was keeping the tab. He wasn’t supposed to let us run short of money. Didn’t you guys have this all set up with guaranteed annuities or something like that?”
“We didn’t create this Recession. We’re not the only ones got hit. Everybody in the market got hit. If it hadn’t ...” Delgado broke off at the sound of a sharp series of knocks on the door downstairs.
“He’s here. Just shut up and let me do the talking,” Delgado hissed as he buzzed Haynes in.
Haynes sprinted up the stairs without a trace of fatigue. Both men stood as he entered the room. Delgado began. “We’re getting this all worked out, Frank. Ron’s got a plan. It’ll just take some time.”
Haynes cut him off. “Time is what I’m afraid we don’t have. You know that bitch Holmes held a meeting at the library and formed a committee to investigate.”
“Bunch of brainless do-gooders, Frank,” Delgado interrupted. “They won’t be able to trace this. Probably spend most of their time talking about their kids and swapping recipes. Like my wife’s book club. Women don’t focus on stuff like this.”
“You’re a moron—you’re both morons. They’ve got that new woman in town on their committee. She’s a forensic accountant. And they’ve got Alex Scanlon, too.”
“That prick?” Delgado exploded. I thought we were done with him when he left the prosecutor’s office and set up his law firm.”
“Nope. He’s back,” Haynes assured them.
“No matter who’s on their committee,” Isaac interjected, “they’ll have a hell of a time unraveling all of this. We’ll have the money back in there shortly. And they won’t be able to trace it.”
“Yeah, Frank, relax. Leave this to us,” Delgado added.
“I don’t think so, boys. Not this time,” Haynes deliberately drew out what he came to tell them. “I went for a drive this afternoon.” He paused to let their discomfort intensify.
“It’s the middle of the night here, Frank. What did you see?”
“That janitor from the school was driving around this afternoon, canvasing the centers. Watched a drug deal in front of the clothing exchange. I’m sure he knew what he was looking at.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Frank. Is that all? Some handyman driving around? He must’ve been looking for work.”
“Sitting in his truck watching the kids in front of the exchange?”
“Probably talking on his cell phone.”
“He wasn’t on the phone. I followed him to two of our other centers before I turned away. I didn’t want him to suspect he was being followed.”
Isaac glanced nervously at Delgado. “Frank’s right, Chuck. This can’t be a coincidence. They’re a lot closer to us than we thought. You and Ron need to accelerate your plan to get us out of this.”
Delgado sat heavily into his desk chair. “All right. We’ll do what needs to be done here. You don’t need to worry. I’m on it.”
“Don’t screw this up any further, Chuck,” Haynes replied. “We don’t want you doing anything stupid. We just need this to quietly blow over.” Haynes nodded to Isaac and turned toward the stairs.
“Frank’s right,” Isaac said to Delgado before snatching his jacket from the back of a chair. “This is bad.”
Delgado dismissed Isaac with a crude gesture and picked up his cell phone. He scrolled to his brother’s number and texted, Cousin in hospital—their code that they needed to meet immediately. He knew that Ron was an early riser and would get the message as soon as he got up. No sense going home for only a few hours. Besides, his wife was used to his staying out all night. Probably preferred it, the ungrateful broad.
He dozed fitfully on the familiar leather sofa in his office and was startled awake when his office door creaked open and his brother stepped across the threshold. He sat up groggily and rubbed a hand over his balding scalp. “It’s still dark out. What time do you get up?”
“It’s five fifteen. I’m on my way to the gym. This is my normal time. Lots of people are up and out this early. Maybe you’d like to come with me sometime? Give it a try?” he said, staring pointedly at his brother’s protruding paunch.
“I didn’t call you here for you to give me grief because I’m fat,” Chuck retorted. “Haynes came to see me last night. That committee formed by Tonya Holmes may be on to us.”
“What? No way. This is too complicated. The feds would have trouble putting it together. How in the hell could a bunch of witless citizens figure it out? He must be wrong.”
“Haynes tailed one of them, investigating our centers. I think we take care of him. Send a message to the rest of them.”
“Hold on. If we need to send a message, we want to make sure we have the right target. Who did Haynes follow?”
“Some school janitor who does handyman work on the side.”
“He doesn’t sound like a threat. He can’t be the brains of their committee. Who else is on it?”
“An old teacher, the vet, that new woman at Rosemont—Haynes says she’s a forensic accountant. She could definitely be trouble. And Alex Scanlon.”
“He’s your target. He’s got plenty of contacts at the prosecutor’s office, and I’ll bet he’s still got political ambitions.”
“Plus he’s a queer,” Chuck volunteered.
“Something to distract him. Take his attention away from all of this. Nothing more. We don’t want to shine a bright light on this. That
would be the worst possible outcome. So rein your boys in.” Ron Delgado held up a hand to silence his brother. “I don’t want to know any more about it. Just do what you have to do. And don’t tell me about it.”
Chuck Delgado sneered at his brother. “You’ve always been too good to get your hands dirty. Leave it to Chuck. And now you try to tell me how to do it? Get the hell out of my office. I’ll handle this.”
“Chuck. That’s not what I meant.”
“I mean it. Get out!” he yelled, slamming his fist on his desk.
Ron Delgado abandoned any further attempt to placate his brother and headed back to his car. If he really hustled, he wouldn’t be more than a few minutes late for his appointment with his trainer.
Chapter 13
Maggie woke before dawn on Saturday morning. She tore back the covers, excited to begin unpacking and settling into Rosemont. The movers had delivered her things the afternoon before, four days ahead of schedule. Sam arrived shortly before seven to finish painting her kitchen. She fed Eve, grabbed her coffee, and decided to get her closet in order. She was feeling excited and terrified, in equal measure, over the prospect of her date with John. She had no idea what to wear and needed to root through her things anyway.
By the time she finished, she had tried on half a dozen sweaters and selected a sapphire-blue cashmere that showed off her eyes. She relegated four sweaters to the donation bag, along with various slacks and shirts that no longer fit or that she never wore. Cleaning house, improving her feng shui, making room for new things, she told herself.
Maggie stood back and surveyed with satisfaction the neatly arranged clothes and shoes. The matching hangers, shoeboxes, and bins that she bought at the organizer store made everything look neat and tidy. Rather like a picture from the store’s catalog, she thought proudly. She snapped a photo on her cell phone and sent it to Susan, who was a compulsive organizer. She’ll be very proud of me, Maggie thought.
She stretched and checked the time and was shocked to see that it was almost noon. The day was gloriously sunny with a hint of spring in the air. She and Eve could use some exercise. She was also hungry, and the kitchen was definitely off limits, so she snapped the leash on Eve, and they headed toward Pete’s. She decided to take the long way there so she could explore the other side of the town square. Eve trotted happily at her heels as she passed a nail salon, a combination tailor and shoe repair shop, a copy/fax/printer center, and a real estate office.
Maggie crossed the street and turned the corner. The shops on this side of the square were more upscale and retail-oriented. On the corner was a tiny old-fashioned candy store with ropes of colorful silk flowers (a bit faded, but still pretty) framing a small window filled with charming fabric-covered boxes of candy tied with large satin bows. The inside was crowded with cases full of trays of chocolates: truffles and crèmes and candies molded into shapes of rabbits, dogs, cats, frogs, and more. The alluring aroma of chocolate seeped out onto the sidewalk.
A jeweler was next, flanked by a gift shop called Celebrations with an inviting spring-themed window display of porcelain rabbits, woven pastel baskets decorated with ribbons and flowers, and colorful china and tableware. Maggie made a mental note to come back to explore the gift shop. Maybe she would invite a group for Easter dinner, and do her dining room table up with those porcelain rabbits running down the center. She slowly walked away from the window, glancing back over her shoulder and contemplating the possibilities for her Easter table.
Her mind was running through a guest list and menu when she arrived at Pete’s. The shops had been busy and the sidewalks crowded, and Pete’s was packed. Eve held court, graciously accepting pats and ear rubs from other patrons while Maggie ordered a spinach salad with chicken to go. While her order was being prepared, Maggie went through the doorway to Laura’s and picked up a loaf of multi-grain bread and some strawberry croissants for breakfast. Laura was quiet and distracted behind the counter, murmuring only a brief hello to Maggie as she bagged her purchases and handed Maggie her change.
“Are you all right?” Maggie asked. She looked at Laura closely and realized, with a bit of alarm, that she looked thinner than before and very pale.
Laura looked from side to side and leaned in to Maggie as she whispered, “You’re the only one who’s noticed. We weren’t going to say anything just yet. I’m pregnant. Only seven weeks along. And sick as a dog,” she confided.
“That’s wonderful!” Maggie cried, and then quickly lowered her voice. “You poor thing. Hopefully, you’ll feel better at the end of the first trimester.”
“That’s what I’m praying for. Working around food is torture. But at least I have my morning sickness in the evening, which is a good thing for a baker,” she added.
Maggie squeezed her hand, assured her she would keep their secret, and went back to Pete’s to collect her lunch and head home.
***
At four o’clock on Saturday afternoon, Alex and his partner Marc arrived at the service entrance of Pete’s to set up for the evening’s performance. This would be Marc’s first gig since the skiing accident when he broke his collarbone and right arm. He had worked hard in physical therapy to regain his strength and flexibility. And he had practiced incessantly to recover his timing and stamina.
“You’re here early,” Pete said as he hurried across the restaurant to help them carry in the keyboard and sound equipment. “You’re not on until eight o’clock.”
“I know,” Marc said. “I’m just nervous. Wanted to test out the equipment before you get busy. Make sure I still know how to set everything up.”
“He was pacing around the house and driving me crazy,” Alex told Pete. “So I suggested we load up and come over here.”
“You’ll be fine,” Pete assured Marc. “Like riding a bike. And everyone misses you. I’m expecting a full house. I’ve had a sign up all week announcing that you’d be back tonight. People have been calling to confirm. You were always one of my biggest draws,” he said as he patted Marc on the back.
“That’s good to hear, I guess. I’m not sure if I’ll live up to my reputation, though.”
“Of course you will. I’ve been listening to you at home and you’re better than ever. A full house is exactly what you need,” Alex said.
“And you should eat something because I know the crowd is going to keep you going for a long time. Tonight’s special is good. Let me bring it to you,” Pete said as he ushered Alex and Marc to seats at the bar.
***
Maggie was finally ready at four forty-five. She started at two, thinking she would have time to answer her emails when she was dressed. Instead, she spent the entire time changing outfits and tweaking her hair and makeup. Eve lay close at hand on the rug in Maggie’s bedroom, head down on her outstretched paws, eyes focused intently on her master. Maggie asked her opinion on various outfits, and Eve either raised one eyebrow or cautiously wagged her tail. She’s handling me like I handle Susan, Maggie thought. Afraid to give an opinion in case she disapproves of the outfit I like best. Intuitive creature. In the end, Maggie settled on the original sapphire-blue cashmere, a nicely cut pair of jeans, heeled boots, and her leather jacket.
She headed downstairs and into the kitchen as Sam was touching up a spot on the far wall. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “It looks absolutely fabulous! Amazing what a fresh coat of paint will do. This color brings out the warm tones of the cabinets. And you’ve done a terrific job.”
Sam carefully finished and turned to face Maggie. “It’s my turn to say wow! You’re all dressed up and looking sharp. Are you going out?”
Maggie blushed, then was furious with herself for doing so. “Yes. And thank you. I’m having dinner with John Allen. But it’s not a date or anything. Just a quick dinner. To discuss committee business.”
A smile spread across Sam’s face as she spoke. “I’ve known John for more than forty years. He’s one of the finest men I’ve ever met. If it was a date, I’d think that would be a real
ly good thing for both of you.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for all of that yet. Or that I’ll ever be ready. I’ve got enough changes in my life right now,” she said dismissively.
Sam held her eyes with his steady gaze. “So what’s one more? Are you getting any younger? Why postpone something that might bring you a lot of happiness. If God puts something good in your path, I say you should grab it. Just stay open to the possibility, okay?”
Maggie nodded and murmured that she would, mostly to shut him up and change the subject as she was becoming increasingly nervous with all of this serious talk about dating. This was going to be dinner. Period. She’d be home watching TV with Eve by nine thirty.
Chapter 14
John Allen pulled up a few minutes early. Inside, Maggie fumbled with the cantankerous lock on the heavy front door. Her hands were clammy, and she felt faintly queasy. Eve was yipping and jumping and shot out onto the porch the minute the door was open wide enough to let her through.
“Quite the welcoming committee,” he said as he scooped up Eve.
“Her manners need improving, that’s for sure. I’m sorry,” Maggie said as John stepped over the threshold and deposited the squirming creature securely inside. “I’ve never trained a dog before. We need to sign up for obedience lessons.”
“There are lots of options for that. Group classes and private trainers. I’ll email you a list.”
John helped her into her jacket, and she picked up her purse from the foyer table. In a voice that she hoped sounded casual, she asked, “So—are you ready to reveal where we’re headed? Or is it still top secret?”
John held the door of his Suburban open for her. “Partially. We’re going to The Mill for dinner. Have you heard of it?”
“I’ve seen their ad in the paper. I understand it’s been around for ages; has quite a colorful history,” Maggie replied. “I thought I’d take my kids there when they visit. I’d like them to see the countryside around here. Southern California has trees, but not Hansel-and-Gretel woods like these. I can’t take my eyes off of the scenery.”
Coming to Rosemont Page 9