“I’ve lived in the Midwest all my life, and I can’t take my eyes off of it, either. But we don’t have any of your California beaches,” he added as they set off. “Nothing beats a walk on the beach.” They kept up amiable small talk along the way and her jittery nerves were beginning to calm as he turned the Suburban off of the main road and onto the driveway for The Mill. He parked and sprang out of the car to open her door. Instead of climbing the stairs to the main entrance, John led them around the side of the building to a skating rink, now deserted, set up under strings of fairy lights. The blazing colors of the sunset were reflected in the nearby river. The air was crisp and the scene was serene.
“What a perfect spot for skating!” Maggie exclaimed. “I’m definitely going to bring my granddaughters here when they visit during winter. I can teach them how to skate. This will be fabulous,” she enthused.
“I was hoping you’d like it,” John said, obviously pleased with her reaction. “You told me you figure skated when you were a kid. You won some competitions. And you don’t remember what you like to do for fun. So I thought this might be a good place to start. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on skates. I hope I can keep up with you. The skate rental is inside. Let’s go get suited up.”
Maggie turned to him with a mixture of amazement and trepidation. “We’re going to skate? You get high marks for originality.” She laughed. “I’m not sure you won’t be taking me out of here on a stretcher,” she added as she raced up the stairs ahead of him.
It took about ten minutes for John to rustle up someone with a key to the cabinet holding the rental skates, but they finally managed to find the appropriate sizes and get themselves laced in, their shoes parked together companionably under a bench at the side of the rink. Night had fallen and the black ice shone in the reflected fairy lights.
John stepped on the ice first and offered Maggie his hand. They both wobbled a bit, but soon found their footing and began gliding around the rink. They fell into a steady rhythm and Maggie took John’s arm. “Okay, Dr. Allen,” she said. “It’s obvious that this rink wasn’t supposed to be open for business tonight. The sign by the skate rental said it closed last weekend. So how did you make this happen?”
“It was nothing, really. I came out here on Thursday and they were happy to do it,” he said making light of his efforts. “You’re good,” he observed. “Actually, we’re both pretty good. Having fun?”
“More fun than I’ve had in I can’t remember when,” she said. “This is magic. I’d forgotten how wonderful it feels to glide along with the cold breeze blowing through my hair. Thank you for going to all of the trouble.”
“This is a very special evening,” he replied simply.
Maggie attempted a scratch spin that made her dizzy; spotting was something she’d have to practice. John helped her off the ice to the bench, where she sat motionless until she regained her equilibrium. Her checks were red, her nose runny and her carefully styled hair was blown to bits. But her eyes sparkled and her smile was joyful and genuine. John thought she looked incredible.
They sat for a moment longer, exhilarated by the knowledge that they could still skate. It was, after all, like riding a bike. John stood and they climbed the stairs to the dining room. She stopped at the ladies room to check herself in the mirror and was sorry she had. Her hair and makeup were beyond repair, but she was having such fun she didn’t much care.
They were shown to a cozy table in the corner by the windows overlooking the river and the now empty rink. The menu was extensive and Maggie realized she was famished. John asked her to select an appetizer, and she ordered the garlic chicken flatbread. She had a glass of wine and he had a beer. They both ordered the chef’s special, salmon with polenta and cucumber-beet salsa.
Conversation flowed easily over their leisurely meal. “We’ve talked mostly about me,” Maggie said. “Which is really bad manners on my part. I’d like to know about you. Tell me the John Allen story.”
He warmed to her interest and talked at length about what had evidently been a very happy childhood. His dad was a dairy farmer and his mom a hardworking farm wife. She also gave piano lessons. Both passed away years ago and the farm sold to make way for a subdivision. He played football and hockey in high school and was still an avid fan. Preferred college sports to the pros, but watched it all in his free time. Loved working with animals as a kid, but witnessed the hardness of his dad’s life and knew he didn’t want to be a farmer. So he decided to become a vet. He loved his job and his patients. The business aspect of running his practice was not his strong suit, but after an office manager embezzled from him years ago, he accepted that he had to attend to this detail.
“That must have been awful,” Maggie said. “It happens more often than you might think.” She resisted the urge to disclose the story of Paul’s embezzlement. Not yet, she told herself. Before John could ask her about her remark, she continued, “You haven’t told me if you’ve ever been married or have kids.”
“I was married for fourteen years. We divorced fifteen years ago. Never had children, which I regretted. I always wanted to be a dad,” he stated matter-of-factly. Maggie looked into his eyes and waited for him to continue. “Sharon was fun and vivacious when we got married. My parents thought that she was shallow and selfish and never liked her. I was charmed by her. I was a serious bookworm and was flattered that this popular, fun-loving spirit chose me. Turns out my parents were right,” he said with a rueful smile. “She never grew out of her self-centered ways and constantly used me and everyone else in her life. She got so that she couldn’t hold a job; couldn’t get along with her co-workers. Nothing was ever enough. Even though we had agreed to have kids, she never wanted to ruin her body with a pregnancy. She was totally selfish.”
“Did you finally have enough and end it?” Maggie couldn’t help asking. “I know what it’s like to be married to an egocentric. Paul always made sure he was the center of attention. It gets old after a while.”
“I found out that she was having an affair. I suspect it wasn’t the first. I always worked long hours and wasn’t around to constantly entertain her. And she wasn’t good at entertaining herself. So that was it for me. I filed for divorce, offered her a fair settlement, and she was on her way. She moved to Chicago, and I heard that she died there three years ago.”
“Being cheated on is a bitter pill to swallow. I think Paul was having an affair when he died. It haunts me. One day I’ll find out.” She couldn’t believe she was being so open with him. “You would have been a wonderful father,” she said. “You haven’t wanted to re-marry?”
“I’d like to. I believe in marriage. Just haven’t found the right gal. And believe me, I’ve looked,” he said. “Dating services, online, blind dates arranged by friends. I’m not going to get myself into another bad marriage. I’m happy on my own until I meet the right person. And it looks like we need some dessert,” he said, changing the serious mood and waving the waiter over to take their order.
Maggie and John were the last diners to leave the restaurant. A full moon illuminated the clouds and the courthouse looked incandescent against the surrounding trees. The square was deserted with the notable exception of Pete’s. Cars filled every available parking spot. The door was propped open and the crowd spilled out onto the sidewalk. They could hear someone playing jazz piano.
“I forgot,” John turned to Maggie. “Marc is playing tonight. Alex’s partner? He’s one of my favorites. He always packs ’em in at Pete’s. Would you like to stop in?”
“I haven’t been out this late in months,” she laughed. “I can’t believe I’m not dead on my feet. And you’re the one who worked all day. If you aren’t too tired, I’d love to.” John pulled to the curb on the other side of the square and took Maggie’s hand as they walked back to Pete’s.
Inside, the restaurant was dimly lit and buzzing with energy. Pete wound them through the crowd to a table by the back door. Marc was in the middle of a set.
They had just settled into their seats and ordered coffee when the piercing sound of a fire truck could be heard above the din, approaching fast. It was barely starting to recede when another siren could be heard in the distance, then another. Several people stepped outside to see where the trucks were headed.
Marc continued to play, unaware of the disturbance. John and Maggie, wedged in the back, stayed put and watched the swell of people by the front door. Maggie saw Pete talking with a man who was clearly agitated. The man tore off into the night, and Pete quickly skirted the room and knelt by their table. He leaned in to be heard above the noise.
“Alex’s law practice is on fire,” he said. “And his home.” Pete paused to let the implications of this coincidence sink in. John and Maggie got quickly to their feet, snatched their coats from the vacant chair and followed Pete out the back door.
“Alex is on the way to his office now,” Pete said. “I’m going to tell Marc, and close down the bar as soon as I can get everyone out. Would you take Marc to their house? I’ll come as soon as I can.”
“Of course,” John said. “Go. I’ll bring my car back here. Send him out the back door.” John turned to Maggie. “I’ll run you home now, if that’s okay.”
“No way,” Maggie replied. “I’m going with you. All hands on deck, I think.” They retrieved John’s car and waited in silence until a frantic Marc burst through the back door.
Chapter 15
Two police cars blocked the entrance to the street. A plume of dark smoke snaked up into the cloudy night sky. John pulled to the curb and the acrid smell of burning wood engulfed them. Marc leapt out of the car before it came to a stop and raced toward his house. John followed, with Maggie bringing up the rear. A police officer intercepted Marc in the driveway.
“You’ll have to stay back, sir,” he told Marc firmly, spreading his arms to block Marc’s progress.
“This is my house,” Marc choked as he struggled to get past the officer.
“Was anyone at home? Any pets?”
“No, we were both out, and we don’t have pets.”
“The fire captain wants to speak to you. I’ll tell him who you are. In the meantime, wait over there with your neighbors. They’ve been very concerned about you,” he said, pointing to the small group huddled together on the front lawn of the house next door.
John took Marc’s arm and steered him toward the group. A matronly looking woman in a wooly bathrobe stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Marc. “We were so worried,” she cried. “Is Alex with you?” she asked, looking over Marc’s shoulder at John.
“No,” John answered. “He’s at his office. There’s a fire there, too,” he stated. “Marc was playing at Pete’s. That’s where we all were when the fires broke out. Alex went to his office and we brought Marc here.”
The neighbor drew in a sharp breath. “Two fires at once? Then this was intentional. We’ve been talking. We thought it might be.” She released a dazed Marc. “I’m so relieved you’re both all right.” Marc nodded and silently stepped away to watch the sure and steady destruction before him.
“Why did you suspect the fire was set intentionally?” John asked.
“I was in my kitchen. I heard a big bang from this direction. I ran to my door and looked out. I can see my backyard and part of theirs,” she explained, pointing toward her yard and then to the burning house. “I saw two men scrambling over their back fence. My husband heard it from our bedroom. He went out the front door.” She turned to a man who had joined them while she was talking. “Tell them,” she said.
“The explosion was really loud. I knew it was close. I went out the front door and smelled gasoline. The house was engulfed in flame,” he continued. He pointed to his wife. “She came to the door and I yelled for her to call 9-1-1. All hell broke loose around here then. Everyone on the street heard the explosion. People were running up here. Several of us tried to get near the house to see if they were home, but the heat was overpowering,” he said. “We were around back, trying to find a way to get in when the firefighters arrived. They got us out of there in a hurry.”
“They must think it’s arson,” a nearby man chimed in. “The police arrived shortly after the firefighters got here. They’ve been questioning all of us.”
“Did anyone see anything else?” Maggie asked.
“I don’t think so,” the man said.
A new set of headlights down the street signaled Alex’s arrival. As Marc had done only minutes before, Alex ran toward the chaos. John started toward him, but Maggie grabbed his arm. “No. Give them a moment alone with this,” she said softly. Alex slowed his pace and came to stand, shoulder to shoulder with Marc, watching the material trappings of their lives disintegrate. Marc lifted his arm to Alex’s shoulder, and both men straightened and stood a little taller.
A firefighter told the neighbors that the fire was out and to contact the police if anyone remembered anything else. Reluctant to leave but with nothing left to do, they murmured uneasy goodnights and headed to their homes and beds.
John and Maggie approached Alex and Marc. The woman next door joined them and asked if they would like to stay with her for a few days.
“That’s very kind of you,” Marc said. “We haven’t even thought of that yet.”
“I couldn’t sleep right now,” Alex added. “You go back to bed. We’ll talk to you tomorrow. And thank you,” he said as he gave her shoulder a squeeze before she headed off to her house.
They stood on the now deserted lawn and watched silently as the firefighters packed up their equipment and prepared to leave. A police officer advised them that he would remain on guard until the property was fenced off.
“Nothing’s going to happen tonight,” the officer said. “Go get some rest. You’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”
Alex and Marc were again shaking their heads no when Maggie took charge. “You two are coming home with me,” she announced. “I obviously have plenty of room. You can sleep or stay up for the rest of the night, and you won’t bother me a bit. And you can remain with me as long as you like. Your insurance company will pay for a hotel, but you’ll be more comfortable at Rosemont.”
Pete joined the group as Maggie was finishing. “That’s a terrific idea. We can talk more there,” he said patting Alex on the back. Alex and Marc reluctantly followed Tim down the driveway to the car.
Maggie and John lead the caravan back to Rosemont. She left John in charge of corralling Eve and ushering Pete, Marc, and Alex into the house while she started a pot of coffee.
The four men joined her in the kitchen where she had set out mugs, cream, and sugar. Alex was explaining what he had found at his office. He slumped onto a stool at the kitchen island and turned to Maggie. “They suspect arson there, too,” he told her. “Fortunately, my building is equipped with sprinklers. The firefighters got there right away and put the fire out quickly. We’re a paperless office, and we back up our systems every night, so we’ll be able to function from temporary quarters on Monday. Our furniture is all badly damaged, but it was insured. We didn’t lose anything that we can’t easily replace,” he concluded.
“You can use my upstairs room to see clients and hold meetings,” Pete offered. “It’s private and convenient. Heck—it might even bring in customers for me,” he joked. “Schedule your appointments around meal times, okay?”
“Thanks,” Alex replied with an attempt at a smile. “I’ll think about it. I don’t want to do anything that would make you a target, too.”
Marc paced restlessly. “Who would do this to us?”
John uncrossed his arms and reached for the coffee pot. “It could be a hate crime,” he said. “There are some deeply bigoted folks around here. You could be targeted for your lifestyle. Or it could be related to our investigation into the corruption at Town Hall.”
Pete whistled softly. “I wondered if you were going to stir up a hornet’s nest with that,” he said. “What have you found out?”
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Alex rubbed his hand wearily over his eyes. “Reader’s Digest version—the pension fund has been making fraudulent loans on shopping centers owned by offshore entities. The people managing the fund don’t want the loans to be repaid. They want the properties to go into foreclosure. When they do, the pension fund takes a big loss and a different offshore entity buys the property at the foreclosure sale for pennies on the dollar.”
“Maybe I’m just slow here, but I don’t get it,” Marc stopped and turned toward the others.
“They got big loans on the shopping centers using inflated appraisals and pocketed most of the loan proceeds. Just like the cash-out refinancing that has been such a problem for the housing industry. They signed up tenants to look legitimate and then jacked up their rents with add-on charges that were buried in the fine print of the leases. All of the tenants in these centers are mom-and-pop businesses. They probably never had a lawyer look at their lease before they signed it.” Maggie explained. Alex nodded in agreement.
She continued, “The rent they collect is just gravy. What they really want is for the property to go into foreclosure so they can buy it back cheaply—a clever scheme to embezzle money from the pension fund in a way that appears legitimate. If the economy had not taken such a hit and the fund’s other investments had continued to support the payments to pensioners, no one would have ever known,” she concluded.
“Those bastards,” Pete said. “Sorry, Maggie.”
“No—you’ve got that right,” Maggie agreed.
“How big is this? Who exactly is part of it?” Pete asked.
“Not sure yet,” Alex sighed. “We’re just uncovering all of this. We think that it’s all related to Wheeler and other councilmembers.”
“Except Tonya Holmes. And maybe Frank Haynes,” John added. “The committee hasn’t even met yet to go over all of this. We’ve been discreet. If this attack on you, Alex, is related to our investigation, I wonder what they know about it.”
Coming to Rosemont Page 10