Foreclosure: A Novel

by S. D. Thames

  The closer he came to the blaze, the less he could believe what he was seeing. As he made his way down the highway, the wind buffeting him back and forth, he tried to persuade himself that this was real. This is real. He stopped to catch his breath and gain his balance.

  This is fucking real.

  Ahead, a ball of fire smoldered inside Gaspar Towers, burning like an altar to an angry god. David took a knee, entranced by the magnificent fire whirling into the stormy sky. And then he slowly realized that he was watching everything he had worked for over the past eight years go up in flames.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  David stood less than a hundred yards from Gaspar Towers. The fire now appeared limited to the south tower. The sales office was burning like an overworked furnace; the main office and retail space on the second floor hadn’t fared much better.

  He raised his gaze and examined the upper floors of the tower. The outer walls for the most part appeared unscathed, but the windows revealed an ominous glow inside the building, as if the fire was still creeping up the interior of the building. He’d tried several times calling Frank’s and Katherine’s cell phones, but both went directly to voice mail.

  Firefighters and policemen were scattered around the perimeter of the building like litter blowing in the wind. David crossed under the yellow tape and vied for a policeman’s attention.

  “Who’s in charge here?” David yelled into the frenzied crowd.

  “You’re not allowed in here,” someone yelled back.

  “I know the owner,” David said.

  “There’s a bunch of owners, asshole.”

  “I know the owner. The developer.”

  The fireman stared carefully at David, as though he were taking a mental picture. As the fireman turned to rejoin the fray, David felt his BlackBerry vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out. It was Beth.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “I’m at the fire.”

  “You’ve been gone an hour.”

  “I’m trying to find out what the hell’s going on.”

  “Do you want me to come get you?”

  As he thought how to answer that question, he noticed that the fireman he’d just spoken with was pointing David out to another guy who looked like he could be in charge. David waved in their direction.

  “No, Beth. I’m sorry. Just go home. I’ll call you when I can.”

  “Are you sure?”

  David heard her question just as he ended the call. He didn’t have time to call her back because the firemen were making their way toward him. He ran to the tape to meet them.

  A burly man with a red mustache introduced himself as Captain Al Ashcroft. “Who do you know here?” he yelled over a passing truck.

  “I’m a lawyer for the developer.”

  “Do you know if anyone’s inside?”

  “All the units in this tower are vacant except for the penthouse. That’s where the owner lives, Frank O’Reilly.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I have no idea. I haven’t talked to him in a few days.” David looked at the sweltering flames on the ground floor. “His daughter works here too, in the sales office on the ground floor.” They watched a swell of flames lash out from an upper floor. “I hope she got out.”

  Ashcroft kept his eyes locked on the fire. “We do too.”

  At dawn, the morning sun illuminated pillars of smoke that were still rising from the smoldering tower. The tower’s exterior frame remained intact, but the fire appeared to have gutted it and charred the east and north walls all the way to the top. News crews were set up every thirty feet, recording reports about the fire. David circled the perimeter throughout the night, hoping to find Frank or Katherine or some sign of them. He’d heard from neither of them all night. Now, his phone was dead and he was just waiting.

  On the east side of the tower, where the sales office once stood, David saw a group of men circled around Ashcroft. Ashcroft gestured in David’s direction, apparently pointing David out to the other investigators. A moment later, Ashcroft led one of the men over to David.

  “This is Fire Inspector Glades,” Ashcroft told David.

  David nodded at Glades, a stubby man in his late fifties with a tattoo on his forearm that looked like a bad war wound.

  Glades nodded back, and asked, “You still haven’t heard from your client?”

  David shook his head. “I left him a message a few hours ago.”

  “Would you mind coming by later to answer some questions?”

  “Name the time. Did they find anybody in there?”

  Glades glanced back at the smoldering ash. “Why don’t you just come by in a little while?” He handed him a card and turned back to the worksite.

  David realized he wasn’t going to learn anything else waiting around here, so he started walking toward a gas station a few blocks up the highway, where he’d have a better chance of catching a taxi since his phone had died. Ahead he saw a caravan of cars passing by, including one marked Gaspar County Medical Examiner. He hoped that one was here just as a precaution.

  He stopped after walking a few blocks and turned around to get a better view of the thick smoke rising above the Gulf. A pair of ibises flew around the cloud of smoke and circled the towers. As he turned the corner, a black car turned with him, catching his attention. It was the same black Acura he’d seen at the Towers when Katherine received her visits from Dick Butkus. The car slowed at a stop sign. Though there was no traffic, it just sat there, waiting.

  David crossed the street and trailed the car. Once he was about twenty feet away, it accelerated slowly, as if teasing him. David increased his pace, and the car in turn sped up. Then he started sprinting, and the car accelerated and flung a cloud of gravel and sand in its wake. David gave up on catching up with the car, and tried catching his breath, his hands on his knees. He never saw it coming, but he heard a loud vehicle approach from the opposite direction. He quickly looked up as Robbie’s truck grinded to a halt a few feet away.

  “Get in,” Robbie yelled through his window.

  Robbie gave David no time to close the door before he was speeding away.

  “What the hell is going on, Robbie?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “Look back there. That’s all I know.”

  “Then you’re doing better than me.”

  “Where’s Frank?”

  “He’s safe.” Robbie checked the traffic before turning onto the highway.

  “Where?” David’s voice cracked.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Robbie pulled his truck into the garage at the safe house. He left the engine running and looked impatiently at David. “Go. He’s expecting you.” David hopped out of the truck and waited for Robbie, but Robbie didn’t move. “He wants to see you alone.”

  In the daylight, the safe house looked naked and vulnerable. David slipped through the kitchen and called for Frank. He found him sitting at the dining room table.

  “Frank, what—”

  “Sit down.” Frank looked exhausted, as though he’d been thinking about too many things for too long without sleep. “I’m running out of options, it seems.” Frank stared at something on the table that David couldn’t see.

  “Let’s step back a minute,” David said. “What do you know about this fire?”

  “What do you think I know about the fire?”

  “I think it looks bad, Frank. The Towers were in foreclosure. You’ve been giving me the runaround anytime I need something about the case. Seems pretty clear to me why you haven’t been worried about the bank foreclosing.”

  “Because I knew I was going to blow it up, blow it up in the middle of a thunder storm? Is that what you think?”

  “Okay, so it was an accident. Then you’ve got nothing to hide.”

  “I’m not saying that, either.”

  David took a deep breath. “Then I’m going to need you to explain this a little better, Frank.”r />
  Frank leaned forward in his chair and locked his fingers in a grip. “You ready to prove it to me? To show me you’re my guy?”

  “You should know that by now, Frank.”

  “This is privileged?”

  David nodded. “Of course.”

  Frank wet his lips before continuing. “We’ve been getting a lot of pressure from an investor in the LLC that owns the Towers. Someone we probably should have never got mixed up with.”

  “Is that where the escrow monies went?” David asked.

  Frank looked like he remembered something. “We didn’t have a choice. These are not the kind of guys you fuck around with.”

  “They by any chance drive a black Acura?”

  “Why do you ask that? I don’t know that car.”

  “Then what the hell does this investor have to do with the fire?”

  Frank started scratching his goatee. “I don’t know for sure. But I think they’re after the insurance proceeds.”

  David tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. He’d never seen Frank contrite and beaten. “Have you heard from Katherine?”

  Frank lowered his head. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “Can you tell me the name of this investor?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Frank rubbed his eyes as though he were trying to rub away pain but couldn’t find its source.

  “Where were you last night?” David asked. Frank looked offended. “They’re gonna ask you sooner or later. Let’s get your story straight.”

  “I was fishing grouper. They can confirm that at the marina.”

  “When did you get back?”

  “A few hours ago. As soon as I did, I had a dozen messages, including yours. That’s when I found out.”

  David took a deep breath, still studying Frank’s demeanor. “We need a game plan, Frank.”

  “Like I said, I’m running out of options.”

  “You could always tell the truth.”

  Frank shook his head. “I’m not gonna die for this.”

  “Then you want to go to prison for this, whatever this is?”

  Frank stood and scanned through his phone like he was looking for a number. “I’m doing this my way. If you can’t handle the job, I’ll find someone who can.”

  David stood and took the phone away from Frank. “I’m your guy, Frank.”

  Frank nodded. “Then let’s clear my name.”

  David remembered his meeting with Glades. “I know just where to begin.”

  Glades met David and Frank in a lobby bustling with ringing phones and frenzied chatter. “Thanks again for coming down,” he said to David. “And thank you, Mr. O’Reilly.”

  David placed his hand on Frank’s shoulder while Frank shook Glades’s hand. “My client’s a little shaken up, but he wants to do whatever he can to help.”

  Glades kept his eyes on Frank, watching his every move. “Let’s go,” he said. Glades led them through a solitary hallway. He stopped and knocked on the glass window before opening the door to a conference room where half-a-dozen guys were already seated.

  “What the hell’s with the press conference?” David said. He reluctantly let Frank into the room.

  “This is routine,” Glades said. He introduced his team, mainly a few assistants from his office and the Gaspar County Sheriff’s Office. But Ashcroft was there too.

  “Just so you know, Mr. O’Reilly, a few of us will be recording this conversation.” Glades hit play on a tape recorder. “And they’re running a video recorder in the back.” He pointed to a mirrored wall behind him.

  “That’s fine.” Frank folded his hands together and looked at the table in front of him. David tried to lean in close and offer support, but Frank ignored him.

  Glades peered at Frank. “Mr. O’Reilly, everyone in this room has one thing in common—we all want to know what caused the fire that erupted in the Gaspar Towers last night at approximately eight o’clock.”

  Frank nodded emphatically. “As would I.”

  Glades continued. “Well, why don’t we begin there—do you have any thoughts on what might have started this fire?”

  Frank kept his eyes on the table. “I could only speculate. I haven’t even seen the accident scene.”

  “No need to speculate,” David instructed him.

  “Where were you last night?” Glades asked.

  “I was fishing ten miles offshore.”

  “With who?”

  “I went alone. Guy I usually fish with had a date.”

  Glades glanced at one of his associates. “And who would that be?”

  “Robbie Andersson, two s’s.”

  Glades nodded for someone to write that name down. “How did you learn about the fire?”

  “I had quite a few telephone calls when I got back within cell range this morning, including one from my attorney here and one from Mr. Andersson.”

  Glades turned to David. “Mr. Friedman, I understand you were within the vicinity of the fire last night?”

  “I was dining at Gulfview Grill down the highway.”

  “At the time the fire began?”

  David nodded. “Yes.”

  All eyes were on David now. “How did you find out about the fire?” Glades continued. “Did you hear an explosion or see anything?”

  “I did not have a direct view of the fire. I heard what sounded like an explosion. At first I thought it was thunder. Then I noticed a bright light down the beach.”

  “Do you dine there often?” Glades asked.

  “Mainly special occasions.”

  “And what was the occasion last night?”

  David attempted a smile. “You’re better at this than many attorneys I come across.” He saw that Glades wasn’t smiling. “It was my birthday. Actually, today is.”

  “Happy Birthday,” Glades said as he read a note set in front of him. Then he looked up at Frank. “This Robbie Andersson—where is he right now?”

  “I believe he’s at the accident scene assessing the damage.”

  “How were sales at Gaspar Towers?” Glades asked.

  “I’d say about what you’d expect in this market.”

  “Slow?”

  Frank nodded. “Yes.”

  “You finished construction over a year ago, but the entire south tower remained vacant?”

  “With the exception of my penthouse.”

  Glades set down his pen. “In fact, weren’t the Towers in foreclosure?”

  David leaned forward for this one. “We filed a lawsuit against the lender for breach of contract. It then counterclaimed for foreclosure.”

  Glades looked right at Frank. “So that’s a yes?”

  Frank nodded again. “That’s right.”

  “Look,” David said, “we’re going well beyond the cause of this fire.”

  Glades smiled politely. “I’m just trying to get a sense of all the circumstances surrounding this loss.”

  “I don’t have anything to hide,” Frank said to David, loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room.

  Just then, a woman in uniform stormed through the door closest to David and threw Ashcroft and Glades an urgent glare. They followed her outside.

  “That can’t be good,” Frank mumbled as the door behind them rattled shut.

  The room was eerily silent for a while. The only thing David could hear was Frank taking deep breaths. He sounded winded, if not panicked. A few moments later, Ashcroft and Glades returned. Ashcroft took an uneasy turn toward Frank and glanced back at Glades before speaking. “Mr. O’Reilly. A body has been found in the ground floor of the south tower.”

  Frank closed his eyes.

  “We believe it to be Katherine Anne Hawkins.”

  Frank lowered his head and sobbed.

  Ashcroft glanced at Glades again, and then studied Frank. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but we need to ask you to identify the remains.”

  Frank barely nodded, but continued sobbing. David felt bad for him, but
he was glad Frank’s reaction was being video recorded. In fact, he figured the bastards had intentionally sprung this on Frank so they’d have his reaction on tape.

  He leaned over to console his client. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

  Frank’s eyes were sealed shut now. David trusted him more than ever.

  Alton peered across the table in the firm’s smallest conference room, the one usually reserved for meetings he didn’t want anyone to know were taking place. He leered at David like a father who’d just caught his son stealing the family car. “There comes a time, David, when you just have to cut your losses.”

  Across the table, Terry nodded in reluctant agreement.

  “What losses?” David asked. “I’ve made a lot of money for this firm.”

  Alton pushed an invoice across the table. “He hasn’t paid his July bill. And with this fire, I don’t expect to get paid anytime soon.”

  “I’m sure there’s an explanation for that. But I’m not going to hang the guy out to dry when things get tough. I know that’s how this firm operates, but that’s not how I want to do business.”

  Alton’s cheeks were glowing red. “I say how we do business around here, and this client has turned into a severe payment risk.”

  “Hear me out, Alton. I spent the morning reviewing numbers with his adjuster. It turns out he’s over-insured.”

  Alton sighed.

  “He was insured for the value of the units in 2006. He actually stands to make a nice profit once he’s paid.”

  Alton glanced at Terry, then back at David. “And what makes you sure he’s going to be paid?”

  “Why wouldn’t he? It’s a covered loss.”

  Terry shook his head. “Never underestimate an insurance company’s penchant for not paying a claim. Especially when a fire’s involved.”

  Alton rubbed his hands together. “Besides, have you fully considered whether he might have played a role in this fire? You said it yourself, he stood to make a nice profit once he’s paid the full proceeds—apparently better than he would if he could sell the units today. It just doesn’t look good.”