by KJ Kalis
Carl nodded, “Of course. See you in a couple of days.” He turned his head as if he were listening. “Things are picking up out there. I gotta get back.”
As Emily moved to the back door, she said, “Hey, hang in there, okay? Things have a way of working themselves out.”
Carl didn’t say anything. He just grinned as if nothing had happened.
As Emily walked out the back door of the butcher shop and turned the corner to head back home, she started to think about her conversation with Carl. Small businesses like Carl’s were always getting squeezed out in big cities like Chicago. It was a shame. The small businesses, many of them started by immigrant families, could find themselves locked out of their own buildings, their very livelihood stopped dead in its tracks, because someone, some real estate developer, got greedy and decided that there was a better use for the land or the building. What those people never seem to realize was that there were families and kids and aunts and uncles and grandparents that were depending on those small businesses to make ends meet.
Emily tugged Miner off the sidewalk and onto damp grass as a woman with a mottled Great Dane walked by. For a second, she was sure Miner was going to fuss and bark, but he didn’t. As she tugged on the leash, she wondered if any part of what was happening to Carl was similar to what had happened to Marlowe. In some sense, Marlowe was getting squeezed out. The question was, who had done the squeezing, or was it just a bad business deal? She hoped that by the time she got home Mike had answers.
11
By the time Emily and Miner got back from the butcher shop, Mike had stepped away from his computer. “Mike?” Emily called when she walked in the back door, setting Miner loose and putting the package of wrapped Italian sausages on the counter. Emily didn’t like to cook very much, but once in a while, a simple meal was something she could handle. It was one way she could thank Mike in addition to the cash she paid him. She was sure that he existed on a diet of chips, pop and fast food.
“In here.”
From the sound of his voice, Emily guessed he was in the office. A moment later she heard the rattle of the printer. She walked out of the kitchen and down the small hallway that led to the front of the house, the wood floors creaking underneath her. “Did you find anything?”
Mike nodded and sighed, “You could say that. It’s a tangled web, this one.” He frowned for a second, “What are we eating for dinner?”
“Italian sausage. Carl said they just made it this morning. What did you find out?”
“That sounds good. I’ll try to walk you through it while you cook. I’m starved.”
Emily followed him back to the kitchen where she put a pot of water on to boil for some pasta and pulled greens out of the refrigerator for a salad. As she unwrapped the white butcher paper from around the sausages, the smell of garlic filled the kitchen. “So, don’t keep me in suspense. What did you find out?”
“Well, it looks like Marlowe was in partnership with this Vince guy after all. I mean, she was,” Mike tilted his head to the side, the flop of his hair covering one of his eyes. “From what I can tell, it looks like about three months ago, she took him off the partnership agreement and the loan.”
“What?” Emily stopped chopping the cucumber she had on the cutting board for a moment. “Marlowe never mentioned that to me. She said that her partner, Vince, had taken the money from her.”
Mike got up out of the chair he was sitting on and walked over to Emily, stealing a cucumber off the cutting board. She slapped his hand. With the age difference between them, they were more like brother and sister than anything else. Plus, Emily didn’t have a lot of people in her life, and neither did Mike, so their work relationship had become more of a friendship than simply colleagues. “What Marlowe said was partially true. It looks like a year or so ago, they signed a partnership agreement so they could work on the Lakeview project. I found that filed with the Cook County Courthouse. That’s where all the business documents for everyone operating in the Chicago area are held by the government cronies.” Mike sat back down at the computer. Emily could hear clicking behind her.
“And then what happened?” Emily was still trying to process the idea that Marlowe and Vince weren’t actually partners.
“That’s the thing. I’m not exactly sure. It looks like a few months ago, Marlowe signed paperwork that released Vince from the partnership and the loan. Why she would do that, I’m not sure. The problem is, she’s on the hook for all the money against the loan, which turns out to be twenty-five million.”
Emily scraped the cucumber off on top of greens that were already in the salad bowl. “Twenty-five million? She told me twenty.” The facts in the case were all wrong. It was just another reason Emily was concerned about trying to help Marlowe. If she couldn’t be honest, how would they ever get the case solved? She shook her head, feeling her stomach tighten. Maybe her instincts had been right about this one after all.
Mike stopped typing long enough to look up at her over his laptop. “I think we’re splitting hairs here,” he said. “From what I can tell, based on the bank records, it looks like five million went out to contractors, attorneys, architects, and the city for permits right off the top. That would mean there was about twenty million left to play with for the renovation.”
Emily felt her stomach start to settle a little. Maybe Marlowe wasn’t lying after all. “So, clear this up for me. Marlowe is somewhere in the neighborhood of owing the bank twenty million. Where’s the money from the credit line?”
“That’s where things start to get interesting.”
Pulling a pan out from the cupboard, Emily set it on the stove, hearing the click of the gas burner as it ignited. She poured olive oil in the pan and set the sausages in it to brown. “I’m listening,” she said, dumping a box of linguine into the boiling water.
Mike sighed and stood up, “I’m going to have to do some more digging on this one. Financial mysteries aren’t exactly my strong suit.” He glanced down at his computer screen for a moment, “I can tell that right about the time Vince was released from the partnership agreement and the loan, all of a sudden there were a bunch of draws on the credit line that emptied the account. It didn’t take long for all the money to be gone.”
Emily didn’t respond for a minute, picking up the pot of hot water, bubbling with pasta, and dumping it over a colander she dropped in the sink. She poured a little olive oil in the bottom of the pot and dumped the pasta back over top, stirring it. “Any idea who took the draws? They weren’t legitimate business expenses?”
“On the face of it, they look legit, but the timing seems off.” Mike drummed his fingers on the table, staring at something on the screen, “Here’s what I don’t understand — Marlowe signs away the partnership and the loan. She takes on all the responsibility herself, and then she pays out all the money?”
“That’s not what she told me,” Emily said, setting the food on the table. She sat down next to Mike and handed him a plate. “What she told me is that Vince took the money.”
“Well, someone did. Based on the timeline, it didn’t take too long to empty twenty million out of that credit line. If Vince did it, where’s the money now?”
Emily and Mike ate in silence for a few minutes, the weight of the questions settling over the table. Miner came over to beg for a couple of pieces of sausage and pasta. Halfway through her food, Emily got up and walked over to her burner phone. “What are you doing?” Mike asked through a half-chewed mouth full of food.
“I’m texting Marlowe.”
“Sure you want to do that? I thought you weren’t interested in taking the case after the shrieking?” Mike said, his eyebrows raised.
“I wasn’t, but I was thinking about Carl down the streets. His landlord is jacking up his rent, probably trying to get rid of him. I’m kinda wondering if Marlowe’s business partner isn’t doing the same thing to her. He might not be trying to kill her physically, but it might kill her, nonetheless.”
; As soon as the words came out of Emily’s mouth, she knew that was the truth. That’s what her gut was trying to tell her. It was entirely possible that the spiral that Marlowe was in would end up with her taking her own life and that blood would be on Emily’s hands if she didn’t at least try to help. Emily had seen it a couple of other times in her career. Two officers she knew, trying to deal with the fallout from shootings — Chicago was a perpetually dangerous city — ended up using their own service weapons to take their lives. If they had just waited it out, they would’ve been fine. Emily wasn’t sure that Marlowe had the mental fortitude to make it through the storm that was coming. Emily grabbed the burner phone and stared at it. There were no new texts. That was at least a good sign. Marlowe was giving her the space to do what she needed to do, “I want to talk more. Meet me at Lakeview at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. No drama or I walk.”
Emily dropped the phone back on the counter, plugging it in to make sure it was fully charged. She sat back down next to Mike, “You have anything going on tonight?”
“Nope,” he said, setting his knife and fork on the empty plate in front of him.
“Good. We have work to do.”
12
By the time Emily rolled out of bed the next morning, she wasn’t sure she had a better sense of what was going on with Marlowe’s case. What she did have was a sense that if someone didn’t intercede on Marlowe’s behalf, she wasn’t sure Marlowe would be able to survive -- financially or otherwise. As Emily pulled on her work boots, she realized Marlowe’s fragility might have been what Angelica was trying to tell her all along. Angelica had a sixth sense for when people were hurting. It was one of the things that made her a good doctor. It was also possible that Angelica just didn’t know how to tell Emily exactly what the problem was. She may have sensed it, without being able to explain it.
Emily and Mike had spent a good part of the evening continuing to dig through the information they had about Marlowe and Vince and their partnership. They hadn’t come to any additional conclusions, other than something wasn’t right. Emily poured a cup of coffee into a travel mug and grabbed her keys and the burner phone from the counter. Mike had sacked out on her couch. He was still snoring. There wasn’t time to take a Miner for a walk. Mike could take care of that for her after she left.
It was just after seven o’clock in the morning when she pulled the truck out of the garage, the blanket of gray clouds from the day before still in the same place, covering the city with a dour expression. The only cheerful part of the day was the brightly colored leaves that marked the peak of fall color in Chicago. It wouldn’t be long before all of them were on the ground, the skeletons of the naked trees rising up, bracing themselves for the winter.
Even at that early hour, the traffic was terrible. As she turned the corner, trying not to plow into the car in front of her, Emily passed Sammy’s Butcher Shop. The lights were on. She caught a glimpse of Carl behind the counter, a big smile on his face. How he managed to stay happy all the time, she wasn’t sure. The fact that Carl’s business was facing uncertainty ate at Emily. She made a mental note to reach out to her father-in-law later on. Not that she was sure he would respond, but if he did, maybe there was something he could do.
It took nearly the entire hour for Emily to get from her house to downtown. The red lights of the traffic backed up on the freeway almost looked like a Christmas display. By the time she got to the exit, she was exhausted, the inching forward and stomping on the brakes frustrating to say the least. As she rounded the corner, her GPS letting her know she was only five hundred feet from the building, she saw the Lakeview — a white hulk of a building, thrusting up out of the ground. Most of the floors had no windows, many others had been boarded up on the lower level. A faded sign to her right pointed out the construction entrance, which was flanked by an eight-foot-high cyclone fence. As she pulled in, she saw another pickup truck parked in the lot.
Marlowe.
Emily said a silent prayer under her breath that Marlowe could stay under control this time. But hoping wasn’t any guarantee, Emily knew that. She reached under her seat and pulled her pistol out from the lockbox. It was already loaded and in the holster, ready to go. She unclipped her seatbelt, lifted the back of her jacket, and clipped the pistol to her waistband, settling her shirt and jacket back over the top. As much as Emily thought she might want to help Marlowe, there was no reason for Emily to feel like her own life was in danger if she melted down again.
Emily got out of her truck at the same time as Marlowe, the two of them meeting by the construction gate. Emily didn’t say anything. Marlowe didn’t look any better than the last time Emily had seen her. Her face was still drawn, the circles under her eyes noticeable black trenches. Emily was sure that wasn’t the drift of mascara, but the blackness of stress.
“I’m sorry about our meeting at the park. I lost control,” Marlowe said, tilting her head to the side. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so embarrassed by my behavior.”
Emily furrowed her eyebrows. Was this just another act or was this the truth? Emily searched Marlowe’s face but didn’t sense any deceit from her. Maybe this was the Marlowe that had been Angelica’s friend. “It’s okay. Let’s just not repeat what happened.”
Marlowe stared down at her feet, nodding. At least her body language showed some regret. How that would play out over the next few minutes, Emily wasn’t sure. Staring up at the building, Emily could tell that the work had started, but they were nowhere near completion, “Can we get inside?”
“Yeah. I still have the key.” From out of her pocket, Marlowe pulled the ring of keys, fumbling for a minute and then walking over to the construction gate. It was looped with a metal chain that held the gate closed. As Emily walked closer, she saw a plywood board had been installed next to the main gate. For a moment, she imagined how it had been when work was underway -- the gate open, the sound of demolition and workers' laughter echoing off the empty building. As Emily passed through the gate, she looked up to her right. A neon stop-work order glared at her. Although she didn’t know a lot about construction, she did know that a stop-work order could be the death knell for any project. She wondered if that would be the case for the Lakeview project and Marlowe.
Following Marlowe around the side of the building, they went in a side door that took them into the lobby. The building was pretty much down to the studs, all the drywall removed, the wiring hanging down. Marlowe looked up at the ceiling and pointed, “We were just getting ready to redo the electrical and put the windows back in. Everything was ordered. Everything was ready, or so I thought.” As she looked back at Emily, her gaze hardened, “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to save this project.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The stop-work order you saw at the gate? Have any idea how hard it is to get those reversed?”
For a moment, Emily thought Marlowe was being sarcastic, but then she realized that wasn’t the case. Marlowe was serious. “No, I don’t.”
Marlowe pursed her lips together, “Not only does whatever the problem that caused the stop-work order have to be fixed, but there are fines involved and a lot of groveling to get the city inspector back out here to release the project. The inspectors are very punitive unless you pay them on the side. I’ve never wanted to do that, but I know that there are plenty of developers that do. They look at it as an investment — a way to get their project moving forward. I even had one guy tell me that sliding an inspector ten grand under the table to save himself the headache of these stop-work orders was worth it.”
Emily shook her head, not saying anything. The depth to which people would stoop to make their own life easier was remarkable. In case after case that Emily worked, greed was usually at the bottom of it. Whether it was an abduction, or murder, or, in this case, a financial issue, it didn’t matter. Someone wanted what they couldn’t have and decided to use any means possible to get it. “Was that the case with your business pa
rtner?” Emily took half a step back as the words came out of her mouth, angling herself with her back towards the entrance they came in. Not that she perceived a threat from Marlowe, at least not at the moment. No reason to take a chance.
“Vince? I wouldn’t put it past him. As I was going back through the financials, which are a mess, I noticed that early in the project there were some incidentals covered to the tune of several thousand dollars. I’ve never seen a lunch that cost that much.” She looked back up at the ceiling and shook her head, “I should’ve known better. I should have paid better attention to what was going on the financial side. But Vince, he said he would take care of it.”
“That was your arrangement?” Emily said, nudging a screw that had fallen on the floor with the toe of her boot. “You take care of the plans and the contractors and Vince would take care of the financial side?”
“Pretty much. We are both on the loan and equal partners in the business.”
Emily squinted. Something wasn’t making sense… again, “You are both on the loan and the partnership for this office building, is that what you’re saying?”
Marlowe nodded, “Yes, I started the company on my own, it’s called Lincoln Park Construction. But, after a couple of small projects together, Vince and I decided to become partners. He didn’t have a company of his own, so I added him to mine. I used my company to take the loan out.”
Walking over to the front doors of the lobby, Emily felt a swirl of questions around her. Did Marlowe not know that Vince had taken himself off of the partnership and the loan? How was that possible? Knowing that Marlowe’s mental state wasn’t all that rock-solid, Emily was concerned about telling her. For a moment, she stared out the front doors of the building. There was basically no view, the construction fence and piles of rubble obscuring any path to the road. By the amount of demolition that had been done on the building, Emily knew Marlowe had grand plans in mind. Maybe Marlowe was right, maybe there would be no saving the project, but how would she respond to the reality that she was on her own? Someone had to tell her, Emily realized. Nothing like being the bearer of bad news. “Listen, I did some digging last night with my tech guy. Vince is no longer on the partnership agreement or the loan.”
