by Dorien Grey
“Of course, there’s the little matter of Cage’s not having Bruno’s money yet,” Steve observed. “But he seems pretty confident Cage’ll get it.
“If Cage’s folks are in as poor health as he says, it’s only a matter of time. And even if they aren’t dead by the time the estate closes, I’m sure Cage can find a way to get it from them. I have no doubt at all Rudy will use the availability of Cage’s impending fortune as a web to catch other prospective investors in his schemes.”
“Do you think Rudy might have killed Bruno so he could get money from Cage?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. Rudy knew Bruno was getting wise to him even before their talk the night of the party, so whatever Bruno said to him couldn’t have come as any great surprise. Rudy’s nothing if not shrewd, and from what I gather, he’d already started laying the groundwork with Cage long before then.”
“And what do you make of the Clifford Blanton….uh…Ferrell Group…link?”
“Hard to say, although it definitely points a finger in his direction. But I see one problem in his being the one who killed Bruno.”
“What’s that?”
“Bruno’s murder was premeditated. The killer had to get the knockout drug in advance of the party and put it into whatever it was put into. Clifford would have had to know in advance Bruno was cutting him off, and from everything I can tell, he didn’t. The only way to know for certain is if John can find out from Bruno exactly what happened during their talk at the party.”
“Yeah, but if it was the stamps he was after, that wouldn’t rule him out. Killing Bruno would be the only way he could get them.”
“True, but it could also have been just a matter of opportunity after Bruno died. Ricky said Clifford came to see him the morning after and sat with him until he fell asleep. A perfect chance. He knew it was unlikely Ricky would be in any condition to notice right away that the stamps were missing. He knew their value, knew the original owner—almost definitely Ferrell—wanted them back, and knew he couldn’t risk trying to sell them himself. I’d guess he made a deal for Ferrell to back him financially on the retreat and the infomercials in exchange for the stamps. What they’ll do about Ricky’s having the certificate of authenticity is another matter.”
“You think he might go after Ricky to get it?”
“It’s possible, but he has no way of knowing Bruno gave it to Ricky, and I hope Ricky’s put it in a safe deposit box by now. Of course, after everything is said and done, there’s no guarantee Ricky will end up with the stamps, anyway. That’ll be up to the court to decide. Bruno’s note didn’t specify it was the stamps he was referring to, just that he wanted Ricky to have something to remember him by.”
“Yes, but we were with him when he opened the envelope, and we can verify what was in it. That should count for something.”
“It might. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“I was thinking of that note that came with the certificate. Do you think Bruno knew something might happen to him?”
“I’ve wondered about that, too, and I hope John can find out for us. But I haven’t seen anything that’s happened since his death to indicate he thought he was in danger. I honestly think he was just being cautious. I think he gave me the envelope rather than Ricky so that, if he’d lived and he and Ricky had broken up somewhere down the line, he could just ask for the envelope back and no one would be the wiser.”
It was a warm night, there was a pleasant breeze from the lake, and they opened the balcony doors to take advantage of it. After dinner and some TV, Steve said, “You’ve got an air mattress, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, it’s a nice, warm night. What say we blow it up and go spend some quality time on the balcony? We’ve never done it out there before.”
Elliott grinned. “Sounds like a plan. But watch the bucking—I don’t want either one of us to follow Bruno over the rail.”
It was just before midnight when they went to bed.
No, Bruno wasn’t concerned for his life. He was concerned for the stamps, though, and after your talk, he didn’t want both the stamps and the certificate to be in the same place.
Then why didn’t he put the certificate in a safe deposit box?
I think he was just being cautious. He knew a safe deposit box would go to his heirs in the event of his death. He wanted to be sure Ricky got the stamps. And he trusted—trusts—you.
Well, obviously you knew I was going to ask about Clifford, too.
Let’s just say I anticipated it. Bruno told him he hadn’t been aware of exactly how much he lost in the market until he insisted on Means’ laying it out for him. He said Means had full confidence he would regain most or all of his losses when the market turned around, but felt Bruno’s knowing the full extent of his losses would needlessly upset him.
Means said Bruno had to curtail his spending, period—especially on costly and highly speculative projects like bars and retreats and infomercials. Bruno assured Blanton that, when stability returned, he’d be more than happy to help him in any way he could. That’s why he was so disturbed when you found out about Ferrell and New York. Despite his misgivings, Bruno really believed in the guy.
So, now that he’s more…uh...together…does he have any idea who killed him?
Not a clue. As I’ve pointed out, omniscience is not a perk that comes with death. The only things he knows now that he didn’t know before he died are the things he learns from you. Oh-oh, I think you woke Steve again. We’ll talk later.
Steve was once again propped up on one elbow watching him.
“John, I gather?”
“John. Nothing new, just going over some things.”
“Ah, okay.” Steve laid back down and draped his arm across Elliott’s chest, pulling him into a spoon position. A few minutes later, both were asleep.
*
In order to meet Larry at eleven o’clock at the first property, Elliott and Steve had a quick breakfast out, and Steve was home by ten fifteen. On the way, they talked about setting up the portable wall panel.
“Decided which picture you’re going to hang?” Elliott asked.
“I haven’t made up my mind yet. The Devereux Gallery has the one I was thinking of, but I can’t ask for it back at this point.”
“How about your portrait of Manny?”
“Possible, but because I do mostly architectural stuff, maybe I should put up one of those. We’ll see. I plan to rotate them every week, anyway.”
*
Larry was, as usual, right on time. The building was a three-story Gothic limestone six-unit with arches over the leaded-glass windows above the entry and at the tops of the flanking first-floor windows. The small front yard was an unkempt jungle, and the roots of an almost-dead tree in the small space between the sidewalk and curb had uplifted a section of the sidewalk near the curb. From the looks of it, the building was empty and had been so for some time.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Larry said with a grin, noting Elliott’s reaction.
“You know I don’t.”
Larry had worked with him so often he instinctively knew what would appeal to him and what wouldn’t, and never wasted Elliott’s time. He always came prepared with a packet of information—taxes, assessment, utility costs, and any history he could find—for each building.
The property, which Larry explained had been empty for more than a year because of an only recently resolved squabble between the heirs of the deceased owner, largely fit Elliott’s requirements. Built just prior to the start of WWI, it had large rooms, high ceilings, fireplaces, and several of the small design details that, to his mind, indicated quality.
There didn’t appear to be any major structural problems, but it was run down. The asking price was at the high end of the general range of other properties in the area, although it didn’t reflect the condition of the building and the expense that would be required to get it back in shape.
Elliott follo
wed Larry to the second property, an eight-unit that looked fine from the outside but proved, inside, to be in considerably worse shape than the one they’d just seen. It would, in Elliott’s opinion, require a complete gutting.
I’ll keep looking,” Larry said as they parted ways on the sidewalk.
“Thanks. And I’ll go over your packet and give the first one some more thought.”
“Do that. I’ll call you soon.”
He made a quick stop back at his condo to pick up a box of office supplies. As he got off the elevator on his way out, he noted two men wearing caterers’ uniforms getting on the service elevator with a cart of what appeared to be party materials.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked Marco as he passed the front desk.
“The Means’ anniversary party. They’ve reserved the assembly room and have been hauling stuff in all day. A big deal, apparently.”
Elliott wondered if Mrs. Means would insist on cranking up the air conditioning so she could wear one of her mink coats, and if she had handwritten all the invitations.
*
Not wanting to interrupt Steve, when Elliott reached the Armitage building he went directly to the gallery area and began setting up his office, making a note to call the phone company to install a phone with an automated answering system. Steve had suggested he might want to decorate the office walls with photos of all the properties he had renovated and kept. When Elliott admitted he didn’t have any, Steve volunteered to take them. Elliott also planned to frame and hang the colored drawing Steve had made of the Armitage building.
It was nearly five thirty by the time he finished placing the furniture where he wanted it and unloading boxes. Steve was still working when he went upstairs.
“Why don’t you fix a drink?” he said as Elliott opened the door. “I’ll just be about ten more minutes.”
Elliott was watching the news when Steve joined him in the living room.
“Finished?” Elliott asked. “I made your drink and put it in the fridge. You just have to add the ice cubes.”
“Thanks. And yes, it’s finished. Let’s give the paint a chance to start to dry, and you can have a look at it in the morning, if you want.”
“If l want. Like I wouldn’t?”
“My dad always told me never to take anything for granted.”
“Right.”
*
Sunday morning after breakfast, Steve showed Elliott the painting—one of Elliott’s favorite buildings, a beautiful old Victorian former home on Belmont near Halsted sandwiched between two hulking, characterless commercial buildings. It, too, had been converted into commercial space, and though the signage was limited, the contrast between past and present was almost palpable.
“Beautiful,” Elliott observed.
“I’m glad you like it. I think we’ll hang this one downstairs today.”
“A good decision. How about now?”
“We’ve got to get to the store to pick up stuff for this afternoon.”
“This is more important. We’ll go to the store afterwards.”
Once downstairs, they set the panel in front of the forward-most central support beam. They decided to leave the paper on the windows and do an “unveiling” just before everyone came downstairs to see the finished space. Arnie had installed floor plugs at the base of each pillar to facilitate using display lights when needed, and the ceiling track lights could also be rotated to act as spots. It took several minutes to install the display light, and when it was exactly where Steve wanted it, they stepped back to admire the effect.
“We’re good,” Steve announced.
“Yep.”
*
Button and Paul were the first to arrive, followed shortly by the Priebes. After half an hour of general conversation and the usual information exchange that goes on among people who have just met, Elliott said, “BJ, you want to lend me a hand downstairs for a minute?”
Jenny, of course, wanted to go along, but Elliott said, “We’ll be right back. Why don’t you help Steve get everybody some more to drink?”
Going first to the garage to retrieve a ladder, they entered the ground floor through the alley-side door. It only required a minute to take down the paper covering the front windows, but several more to fold it up, take it to the trash cans in the alley, and return the ladder to the garage.
“You want to go upstairs and see if everybody’s ready to come down?” Elliott asked, unlocking the front door.
“Okay.”
As he stood by the front windows looking at the results of so many weeks of work, even he was impressed. Turning toward the street, he noticed a car he recognized from the neighborhood drive slowly past, its occupants gawking. He smiled and waved.
*
“I’m so glad everybody liked the space,” Steve said as they finished cleaning up.
“What’s not to like? It’s your painting that really sets the whole thing off. I think even BJ liked it, and he’s about as stoic as they come.”
Steve grinned. “Yeah, he could be the poster boy for ‘teenage cool.’ But anybody could pick him out of a lineup as being Brad’s son.”
“How about I buy you dinner? You pick where.”
“A good idea. I was just thinking I could really go for a bowl of hot-and-sour soup at that place on Broadway up near you.”
“We can do that. Then, since we’re so close, we could spend the night at my place, and I can get you home in time for work in the morning.”
“That’s doable.”
Checking his answering machine as soon as they got back to the condo, Elliott noted he had a message.
“Elliott, Adam. We were wondering if you and Steve might like to come over for dinner Tuesday evening. We’ve been meaning to do it for a long time now, and if you don’t mind a middle-of-the-week evening… We’re eager to tell you about our trip. Anyway, just give us a call.”
Steve, who had followed him into the den, raised an eyebrow in a silent question.
“Adam and Jesse—the guys whose house I just redid. The ones who hired Ricky as a houseboy. They just got back from Europe.”
“Ah, right.”
“You up for it? It’d give you a chance to see their place.”
“Sure. I never pass up a free meal.”
Elliott returned Adam’s call immediately to confirm. When he got off the phone, Steve pointed at two large, full black garbage bags in the corner where the file cabinets had been.
“Nice accent pieces.”
Elliott grinned. “Yeah. I meant to haul them down to the garbage room but haven’t gotten around to it.”
“We can take them down now, if you want.”
“Nah, I can get them later.”
“Be easier if we each took one.”
“Well, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Steve said, walking over to pick one up. “Jeez, what do you have in here, barbells? These things are heavy!”
“Several years of old phone books and a boatload of outdated business catalogs from when I cleaned out the file cabinets before I moved them. Now that I have an official office, I can have all my business stuff sent there.”
They took the elevator to the ground floor, then went down the back hallway to the garbage room. Raising the metal accordion door to get into the room, Elliott noticed that one of the large wheeled garbage bins was overflowing, and the floor around it was stacked with several boxes he recognized as the same ones that had been delivered to the Means’.
The top of one of the boxes was torn off, revealing about a dozen empty champagne bottles.
“Moët & Chandon?” Steve said. “Never heard of it. Either really fancy or really cheap.”
“Go with ‘really fancy,’” Elliott said. “These are from Walter Means’ anniversary party, and the Means’ don’t do cheap.”
“Ah, how the other half lives.” Steve sighed. “But I forget, you’re one of the other half.”
“Watch it, Buster, or you’ll be
riding the Fat Lip Express.”
“Yeah, like that’ll happen. But there’s another express I wouldn’t mind riding…”
“Good God, man, do you always think of sex?”
“You’d prefer I didn’t?”
“Not at all. I just asked.”
*
Monday was a wrap-up day, and Elliott completed the work schedule of maintenance projects on his other properties, which should keep his crew busy. He realized he was behind schedule in his customary Tarzan-through-the-vines swing from one project to the next. He usually had the next project pretty well lined up before work on the current one was finished.
Normally, he looked at several potential properties before making a decision and had only seen two this time. However, the more he thought about the limestone six-unit Larry had shown him on Saturday, the more favorably he viewed it.
He went over Larry’s packet of information carefully, relied on his memories and impressions of the place, and jotted down some rough estimates of cost. He decided to call Larry to go through the building again and perhaps take his crew. Although he usually waited until he was pretty sure he was going to make an offer on a new property before taking the crew off a job for an inspection, he figured since they were nearly done with the Armitage building, he might want to expedite his decision.
“We can do it this afternoon, if you’d like,” Larry said when Elliott called to see about a revisit, and they arranged to meet at the property at two o’clock.
*
Having the building completely empty facilitated the inspection and allowed a more accurate estimate of its condition. The rear porches needed considerable work, and it was agreed the rear stairs should be completely replaced. Several of the side and rear windows were also in very poor shape and would have to be replaced.
The kitchen and bathroom fixtures and appliances were at least a half-century old, and the basement utility room equipment equally reflected the building’s age. The electrical boxes still used fuses, and the efficiency of the furnace and water heaters was questionable. The roof appeared to be in good condition, with no indication of leaking, and no significant structural problems were evident.
