Tax Cut

by Michele Lynn Seigfried

  I searched for Lutz Online Loans on the internet. I found a full website, but no useful information. No names of agents or owners of the company, just a post office box as an address. A generic email address of questions@lutzonlineloans.com was there. It was curious to me that their webpage said they were not currently taking on new loans. Something to do with the economy. I would think in a bad economy, the company would be looking for additional work to compensate for loans that were in default, but what did I know? Certainly not much about the mortgage industry.

  I picked up the phone and called my cousin, James Primer, who happened to work for the State of New Jersey, Division of Commercial Recording. I asked him if he would do a favor for me and let me know who the people were behind the LLC. I could hear James typing something into his computer.

  “Drake Taylor is the sole owner,” James reported. He didn’t have an address other than the P.O. Box.

  “Thanks, Jay. I owe you one,” I said.

  I went to the internet again, and typed in Drake Taylor. No hits. Maybe Bonnie could ask her Uncle Freddy about him. I’d have to ask Bonnie later, when no one was around. I didn’t want Dingo overhearing me treading on his turf or questioning his taxpayers. My train of thought derailed when the phone rang.

  “Hello,” I answered.

  “Did you like your present?” Nero said.

  “In what sense of the word ‘like’ do you mean?”

  “I mean, are you happy I found some dirt?”

  “Oh, okay. If you were going to ask me if I enjoyed the show, the answer would have to be no. I don’t mind that she might be embarrassed, after the way she treated me, but having an affair isn’t exactly illegal. I thought you said you could find some dirt that might make people quit?” I asked.

  “Geez, oh man. I would have thought you would be grateful to me. You don’t know what I went through to get that video. I thought it was quite a juicy secret. I personally thought I scored big,” Nero said.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound unappreciative; I was just looking for something illegal. Having an affair isn’t exactly unlawful.”

  “What if she’s not involved in anything illegal?”

  “I guess I have a gut feeling that she’s involved in something.”

  “Something like what?”

  “I’m not sure. Something criminal.” I didn’t mention my suspicions about the tax refunds and Winifred being one of the names on those resolutions.

  “I’ll keep looking, but you are going to owe me more than coffee.”

  Oh boy, I didn’t like the idea of owing Nero anything. “How about coffee and a bagel?” I asked.

  “Deal,” Nero said, and he disconnected.

  I was surprised that Nero accepted the offer so easily. Perhaps he was a pushover.

  Chapter 16

  The only sound in the pre-sunrise hours was the sound of the waves pounding the sand. It was windy, which caused the ocean to unleash its fury on the shoreline. A shadowy figure approached the beachfront club in the darkness.

  A new sound emanated out of the darkness. Not from the ocean, but from the club. Shattering glass. It took the intruder less than three minutes to invade and destroy. What would happen next would rock the small village of Coral Beach. The intruder casually strolled back to his vehicle, discarding his cigarette with a flick of the wrist.

  * * *

  The first alarm sounded at eight fifteen a.m. I was on my way into work. I could see the billowing smoke rising—a funnel-like cloud in hues ranging from gunmetal to black. The fire engines roared past me as I pulled over to make way for their hasty arrival at the location of the distress call.

  The second alarm sounded moments later. The fear rose from the pit of my stomach. I had had a traumatic experience in Catholic school when I was seven years old. A fire drill was in progress. One of nuns told us that if we didn’t hurry up, we would burn in a fire. It had a profound effect on me. I refused to go to school, because I thought it was going to burn down and that I would die. My parents had to take me for counseling. I never truly got over my phobia of fire. Seeing the thick smoke was not a matter of being scared for me. It was something that terrified me to the core.

  I arrived in the parking lot of the municipal building at precisely eight thirty. The smoke was close…too close. The third alarm sounded. I turned off the ignition and opened my car door. The smoke stung my eyes, causing them to tear up. Tainted air entered my lungs, causing me to cough. Pieces of ash danced in the air like snowflakes during a winter storm. I knew this was much worse than a winter storm could be.

  I ran inside the building for cover. Bryce was right behind me.

  “What’s going on? Where’s the fire?” I asked him.

  “According to the radio announcer, it’s at the beach club.”

  “Oh no,” I said as my mind went straight to a dark place. I knew it in my bones that the fire was set intentionally. Gino Righetti wanted that beach club condemned and he was going to get it, no matter what the cost.

  “Is everyone okay?”

  “I don’t know; I don’t know much of the details.”

  Police officers entered the building and told us to evacuate. The fire had raged out of control and it wasn’t safe. The recent dry weather combined with heavy winds this morning merged to make an inferno that had spread faster than firefighters could manage.

  I asked if they needed help, notifying residents or manning phones. They declined. They had already done a reverse 9-1-1 call to all residents alerting them, and they were driving down each street with loudspeakers. They had EMS teams throughout the village to assist anyone with smoke inhalation. I learned that the fire chief had ordered the power cut in the entire village to prevent any additional problems.

  Bryce and I headed back out to our cars.

  “Are you going to be okay getting home?” Bryce asked.

  “Oh yes, I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  I wondered if he could tell that the fire was making me uneasy. I thought it was considerate of him to be concerned for me.

  “I’m sure. I’m going to head over to my parents’ house. I’ll probably hang out there today. They babysit my daughter for me.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, if you need me…” His voice trailed off. He reached in his pocket and took out a pen, along with his business card. He jotted down his cell phone number and handed it to me. I couldn’t tell if he was hitting on me or being a good co-worker. Considering he could have asked me out on a date at any time, Monday through Friday, during regular business hours, I decided it must be the latter and I quickly put the idea of him hitting on me out of my mind.

  “Thanks, Bryce. That is kind of you.”

  “I mean it, Chelsey. Call if you need anything.”

  We waved goodbye and got into our vehicles. My eyes were burning. I reached in the back seat of my car, where I kept a tissue box, and pulled out a tissue to wipe my eyes. I put the car in gear and headed toward Mom and Dad’s place.

  I could still see the smoke from the next town over. I shook my head, I was saddened by the destruction that would be left behind and I felt helpless. I walked up the porch stairs and into the house.

  “What are you doing here?” my mother asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “They evacuated us due to the fire.”

  “What?!”

  “Don’t you look out the window? You can see the smoke from here.”

  “I was preoccupied with Mandy. I didn’t look outside yet.”

  I switched the television to a news channel. Ruby red colors overcame the screen, as the flames engulfed the beach club. The fourth alarm was called. A plea went out to all available firefighters in the county to come to the site. Much more help was needed. The fire chief appeared on camera. He said that the fire was burning much too hot and it was unable to be controlled. Walls and portions of the roof were collapsing, so it was too dangerous to send anyone inside to fight the blaze.

 
The newscaster postulated that an accelerant could have been used for a fire of this size and magnitude; a fire that couldn’t seem to be controlled. An explosion occurred inside the far end of the building. A reporter speculated that the gas lines from the kitchen stoves or hot water heater had ignited, causing the blast. We stayed glued to the TV, watching in horror.

  The winds gusted up to thirty miles per hour. Embers from the inferno took flight, landing on nearby rooftops. The fifth alarm was called. We could hear the sirens from outside in the living room. Fire companies from the mainland were making their way over the bridge, through the Town of Sunshine, on their way to Coral Beach.

  By lunchtime, the fire was still raging out of control. Six different fire districts were on site. Neighboring homes were being reduced to ash. The smoke plume stretched along seven miles, swallowing the coastline. It was so dense, it could be seen on satellite radar. The decision was made to concentrate efforts on saving other structures, rather than extinguishing the flames at the beach club. It was beyond hope and couldn’t be contained without risking the lives of those battling the blaze.

  I saw the walls cave on the TV screen, from the safety of my parents’ home. A second later, the building collapsed. The beach club was reduced to a pile of rubble, ravaged by the fire, which continued to burn with vibrant blue flames.

  By dinnertime, the news channels were a flurry of activity about the fire. Each channel announced that it was an eight-alarm fire, unheard of in the history of Coral Beach. Unheard of in the history of the entire island. Firefighters had been continually rushed to the hospital for smoke inhalation. Several homes were ablaze as well. Efforts were only being made to prevent further property damage and protect the lives of the heroes battling this unstoppable monster.

  I was too distraught, thinking about the fire. I was certain Gino was behind it. No doubt, it would be impossible to prove. I was supposed to be going out on a date tonight with Kris. I hadn’t gone to see a movie in years, but I wasn’t up for a night on the town. I left a message with Kris asking for a rain check, then I ate dinner at my parents’ house. When it was close to Mandy’s bedtime, I piled her into the car to drive home, where I put her to bed, then stayed glued to my plasma until I fell sound asleep myself.

  * * *

  For three full days, hot pockets continued to smolder. Work was closed over the weekend, so the electricity being out around the village for a few days wasn’t a concern there. I headed into Coral Beach, for the first time, Monday morning. I could only compare what I saw to a war zone. The beach club and the surrounding homes, which had been spared by Hurricane Sandy a year and a half earlier, had succumbed to the wrath of the inferno. I wondered if the Universe was trying to send a message or if it just hated Coral Beach. I cried at the loss of my fond memories of the beloved beach club. I felt tremendous sorrow for the owners.

  The municipal building was miraculously unharmed. I tried to work, but my mind wandered to a time when I was a little girl. We belonged to the beach club. At that time, it wasn’t a playground for the upper echelon. It had a pool and a children’s play area. It was a place to shower and have a reasonably priced meal after a long day spent in the sand and saltwater. Memberships were reasonably priced twenty-something years ago and there were many events for young couples with children. Easter egg hunts, barbeques, Halloween parties. It was geared toward those who lived year-round at the shore.

  As time passed, the beach club changed owners, was extensively renovated, and became a popular hotspot for weddings and private parties for the well-to-do. It was no longer a means of entertainment for the middle-class families residing on the island. Still, it evoked memories of family fun from deep within me, making me sad to see the club go up in flames. I didn’t understand the criminal mind. The blatant disregard for others, their properties, their livelihoods. I vowed to find some way to put this man behind bars before he destroyed any more lives.

  The sound of my cell phone ringing snapped me out of my deep thought. It was Kris.

  “How are you hanging in there?”

  “Okay, I guess,” I responded.

  “Happy Saint Patrick’s Day.”

  “Oh, geez. I had totally forgotten.”

  “Why don’t you come with me to Savoy’s after work? They’re having a little St. Patty’s party.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “I’ll swing by and pick you up about five thirty.”

  I hung up with Kris. I wanted to see him, but I was starting to wonder if we had fallen into a friends-only zone. We barely saw each other and we still hadn’t kissed since New Year’s Eve. Two and a half months for anyone who was counting. I was counting. It was hard to get excited about a date with him when I wasn’t sure where I stood.

  I made a quick call to my parents to make sure they could keep Mandy for a couple of extra hours. Savoy’s was only a few miles from my house, and I didn’t think we’d stay out too long on a “school” night.

  I spent the rest of the workday fielding calls from residents about the fire. When will we be allowed back into our homes? When will the gas be on? Are all the fires out? Do you have a shelter? Where can I get food and bottled water? Are you collecting donations for the victims? And so on and so forth. I felt horrible about the fire and what these poor residents and business owners had to endure. I definitely needed a drink when the day was over.

  Kris was prompt—five thirty on the dot. I barely had enough time to change into a pair of jeans and a green shirt, freshen my makeup, slap on some deodorant, and brush my teeth. I let him in and he bent down to pet Snickers. I took it as a sign from Snickers that Kris wasn’t a bad guy…just slow…in that department. When Snickers didn’t like someone, he let out a low growl. Snickers wagged his tail when Kris was around.

  We were at Savoy’s in less than five minutes. There weren’t many people there. We sat at a high top and ordered some specials—green beers and sliders. We chatted about the fire, our jobs, and our kids. We ordered another round and continued to talk. Time flew and it was seven thirty before I knew it.

  “I hate to cut this short; I’m having a great time, but I have to pick up Mandy,” I told him. We finished our beers, paid the tab, then set out into the parking lot. With a couple of drinks in me, I had a dose of liquid courage. I decided to act like that sex kitten that Bonnie was pressuring me to be. I was not going to let this guy slip away from me. I was not going to fall into the friends zone. We arrived at the car. I leaned against the car and looked deep into Kris’ gorgeous hazel eyes. He was standing very close in front of me, holding my gaze.

  I leaned in for a kiss, and he said, “You’re in the way.”

  Stunned, I asked, “What?”

  “The car door,” he said. “You’re leaning on the car door.”

  I turned and looked and realized that I was indeed leaning against the passenger’s side door.

  “Oh,” I said, somewhat humiliated and somewhat annoyed.

  I folded my arms in front of me, a nervous gesture, and straightened up. I put my head down, then stepped out of the way. He put the key into the door, unlocked it, and opened it for me. I sulked down into my seat, arms still folded.

  We drove home in silence.

  “What’s wrong?” Kris finally asked.

  “Oh, um, nothing,” I said. “I think I had too much to drink,” I lied. The truth was that I was disappointed. I was ready to be a sex kitten. Ready to take the initiative to get that kiss. More than ready. Borderline desperate was more like it. I wasn’t sure if I was doing something wrong or if he had lost interest.

  “You only had two beers,” Kris pointed out.

  “I’m a lightweight,” I said. “It’s just a small headache. I’ll be fine.”

  “Do you want me to stop and pick up some ibuprofen for you?” Kris asked.

  I wondered why he had to be so considerate. It made me like him even more. He was concerned enough about me that he offered to get me some medicine.

  “No thanks
. I have some at home,” I said.

  We arrived at my house, and again, he walked me to the door. Kris looked down at this watch and noted it was later than he thought. He took off with a quick goodbye. The small amount of hope that had built up as he walked me to the door quickly drained from my body and I watched him drive away. No kiss. Not even a hug this time. I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered if I had scared him off.

  Chapter 17

  “How could you have done this?” Marc asked.

  “I didn’t do anything, Marc.”

  “You’ve single-handedly destroyed the entire village.”

  “I had nothing to do with the fire, and it hardly destroyed the village.”

  A tear fell from Marc’s eye. “This isn’t what I bargained for. I want out.”

  “You already know the consequence of that.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I guess the boss wasn’t pleased with the fact that the condemnation of the beach club was going to take so long.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. We could have gotten the ordinance done in a month from now.”

  “Yeah, well, there was the ordinance, and then there was the possibility of ending up in court for an unknown amount of time. The boss don’t like to wait.”

  “You think you’re not going to have to wait? Gino, be reasonable. The owners of all those homes are going to wait for insurance money. That can take months. They may want to rebuild. You can’t keep burning down their houses!”

  “Again, I didn’t burn down anything. The order didn’t come from me and I didn’t light the match. All that insurance paperwork, all that waiting. Those people will be happy to take a nice, reasonable offer from Righetti Brothers. Then they don’t have to worry about dealing with the catastrophe. They can take our money, go buy themselves another lovely property that’s already built. Then we’ll deal with the insurance company. It’s a win-win.”

  Marc’s face was hardened with rage. “This isn’t a win-win! This is devastating! How is the village going to manage? We can’t collect tax revenue like this. How are we going to pay for all that infrastructure?”