by KJ Kalis
Emily could hear background noise but didn’t know what it was. “What are you doing? I can hardly hear you.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I had the window open while I was driving. Probably the air against the microphone. Is that better?”
“You’re on your way back?”
“Yep. That’s what you said, so that’s what I’m doing.” There was a pause for a second, “Get back to the Anthony story.”
Emily took another bite of the cheeseburger, pulling the pickle out and eating it by itself. She liked the sour taste. She pulled a little piece of meat off for Miner and he gobbled it down as she thought through her conversation with Anthony. “You mean, your new Mafia buddy?” she chided.
“I guess. What did he say?”
“Asking him about Vince stirred up a whole can of worms. I called him on the drive back. He already knew about the Lakeview and the twenty million that was missing.”
“So, Marlowe wasn’t lying?”
“Nope. Anthony knew all about it. I asked him how, but all he said was that they do work in the construction business and it’s a small community.”
“I believe that. There aren’t a ton of people that can get that kind of funding for those large projects.”
It was a concession on Mike’s part, one that Emily was surprised about. “And he said that Vince is in way deeper with his gambling than we thought.”
“Yeah, that’s the part I want to know about. I found half a million. Where is Anthony getting his numbers?”
“Well, he said there are high-stakes games throughout the city that don’t use technology to track the winners and losers.”
“You mean like an old-fashioned bookie?”
“Exactly. Anthony said that the people that run those games are people we need to be careful with. They are serious about their debt.”
“Did Anthony happen to mention if Vince has paid any of the six point one million down?”
Emily took a sip of the pop that had come with her burger and fries, the syrupy sweetness hitting the back of her throat after the salty taste from the fries. “Vince hasn’t. Anthony said the people who are involved are getting antsy. I’d imagine they want their money, or at least part of it.”
“He has all of Marlowe’s money. Why isn’t he paying them?”
“That’s a good question. How far out are you?”
“Seventeen minutes.”
“Okay, let’s finish our conversation when you get here. I need to wrap my brain around the next steps with this now that we know Marlowe is telling the truth.”
“Sounds good.”
Without any further discussion, Emily realized she and Mike had gone back to normal, the way they were before he decided to bolt. He even seemed interested in the information Anthony had been able to provide. Emily was sure his mind was swimming with the fact that Anthony had access to information that wasn’t kept on some cloud storage device somewhere. A grin formed on her face. Emily looked at Miner, who was waiting for another french fry, and smiled. “Uncle Mikey is going to have to adjust his processes,” she said, scratching behind Miner’s ears and giving him another bite of cheeseburger.
Knowing there was a heavy weight of debt on Vince’s shoulders and that the people that held that debt were serious about getting it back made Emily a little wary about the case. She leaned back in her chair, resting for a moment. It had been a busy twenty-four hours. Working the case, boxing, finding out that Mike and Miner were gone, spending half the night driving around trying to find them, retrieving Miner, and then coming home to find out that everything Marlowe had said — although she was hysterical as she delivered the information — was true. It was a lot to absorb. The question was, what did she do now?
When Emily took the case, she had told Angelica it wasn’t generally the kind that she looked into. That part was true. That was what was making it so difficult to determine the next step. Her other cases followed a pattern -- wrong had been done, wrong needed to be fixed and that’s what she did. She fixed it. Except, this time, the wrong was still in process, at least to some degree. Sure, the money was gone, but it wasn’t exactly what Emily would consider a cold case. It was closer to an ongoing case. To add to it, it was more financial in nature. Most of the cases Emily dealt with had to do with unsolved violent crime. She was out of her depth and she knew it.
The only saving grace was Anthony.
Without the information he had just given her, Emily might have spent the next several weeks trying to determine whether or not Marlowe was reliable. If Anthony said she was, then she was. There was no reason for him to lie to her. Even more interesting was that Anthony had been able to find the information on his own with nothing more than a first and last name to go on. Chicago was a complicated city.
Emily stood up from the table, shaking her head a little. She crumpled the bag into a ball and tossed it into the trash. Just as she did, there was a rattle at the back door. Mike was back. Miner trotted over to say hello, giving Mike’s legs a little sniff and waiting for a back scratch. “You made it,” Emily said, taking a sip of the diluted pop in the bottom of her take-home cup.
“Yeah, it’s not a far drive.”
“Far enough, especially if you can’t find it.”
“Noted. So, run me through this information again?”
Emily sat back down at the table, the wooden legs scraping on the floor. Mike pulled out his laptop and joined her. For the next few minutes, Emily went back over the conversation she had with Anthony. “What I found to be so amazing was that he practically knew more about the case than we did.”
Mike nodded, “That’s really strange.”
“See, you and Anthony aren’t all that different. He’s just the analog version of you.” Emily couldn’t resist giving Mike one last jab about his overreaction to Anthony.
Mike shook his head, pursing his lips, “That doesn’t change the fact that he’s dangerous.”
“Agreed, but what concerns me more is the fact that he warned me about the people that are involved with Vince. If Anthony is dangerous, imagine how these people must be.” As soon as the words came out of Emily’s mouth, a lump formed in her throat. Navigating this case was like trying to pilot a small boat through alligator-infested water. You would be fine as long as you stay in the boat, but God help you if you decided to get out. Friend or foe, it didn’t matter, you’d get eaten.
Mike stood up, stretching. He started to pace back and forth. “I can’t find any record of this other gambling debt, but it makes sense if you think about it.” He stopped, leaning his hands on the back of the chair that he had been sitting in, “As much as I like technology, Anthony has a point. The law enforcement services all have hackers that are just as good as I am. While they may not admit to using them to get the information they need to prosecute people, they do it. I know that for a fact.”
Emily wanted to ask Mike how he knew that, but she knew it would be fruitless. Even though their relationship was back on track, there were some things that Mike held close to the vest. His trade secrets, he called them. “So, if all of that is true, which I believe it is, then the people who hold the debt for Vince are very protective of themselves and their business.”
“And I’d guess they have higher stakes than whatever game this is that Vince went to at the Addison hotel.”
Emily raised her eyebrows. “You didn’t tell me it was at the Addison?”
“Sorry,” Mike said, sitting back down. “I was too busy being mad at you.”
“For no reason, I might add.”
Mike nodded, a flush on his cheeks. “Can we move on?”
“Of course. You were saying?” Emily got up and walked over to the counter where she pulled the coffee pot off of the brewer. The start of her day, which was normally so organized, had been put in the blender. She could feel the fatigue from her workout the day before plus sleeping in the truck overnight. She was glad the day was half over. It had already been a long one.
&n
bsp; The stream of water pouring into the carafe made little bubbles that danced and popped as they floated to the surface. Emily opened the cabinet above, pulling out a canister of coffee. It was a special blend that she bought from Carl at the butcher store. Not only did he have some of the best meats in town, but he had a few specialty items that Emily enjoyed. His coffee was one of them. Her mind floated back to the letter Carl had gotten as the smell of the coffee grounds wafted toward her. She wondered if he had resolved the issue with his landlord yet.
Emily set the pot on to brew and flipped the switch. As she reached up into the cabinet to pull down a couple of mugs, one for her and one for Mike, her mind started to drift forward. The whole case would go out the window if Marlowe hadn’t made it through the night. In a way, Emily felt bad for not being more concerned about Marlowe’s welfare. Maybe she should have called Angelica to let her know, but there wasn’t a lot her sister could do while she was in Europe. Calling her probably would have just resulted in a fight anyway, Emily thought.
As the mugs clunked down on the counter, Emily realized she was going to go ahead with the case anyway — with or without Marlowe. Vince was up to his eyeballs in nothing good, she could feel it in her gut. Who else had gotten caught up in one of his lies?
23
Marlowe had spent the entire day doing nothing. The edges of her mind were frayed. The one person she thought might be able to help her — Angelica's sister, Emily — had disappointed her. She was just another person in a long line who hadn’t given her even a scrap of help when she needed it.
By midmorning, Marlowe found herself with a splitting headache sitting and sipping a cup of tea at a coffee shop around the corner from Kelsey’s apartment. Marlowe just couldn’t sit still all day long staring at the walls and there was no point in going to the office. She’d gotten an email that an eviction notice had been posted on the door. At some point, Marlowe would have to go there and get the rest of her paperwork out. There was nothing she could do with the office furniture. There was no place to take it. At least maybe the landlord could sell it and recoup a little bit of their money because Marlowe had none to give him. Vince had taken it all.
Why the basic fact that Vince had stolen her money seemed to be so hard to get people to wrap their brains around, she wasn’t sure, she thought, lifting the mug to her lips and blowing on it. As she sipped the tea, she tasted the iron of her blood. Her lip was split from chewing on it.
Getting the news that the building had been condemned by the city was the last straw. It seemed unfathomable to her. How was a structurally sound building deemed condemned? She set the tea mug back down on the table, wrapping her fingers around it. She was alternately hot and cold. Why, she wasn’t sure. It’s probably just the stress wreaking havoc on my body, she thought, pushing up a curl from her forehead back behind her ear. Touching her hair, she realized she needed a shower.
As she lifted her eyes, she saw people walking by through the wide glass windows of the coffee shop. They were all dressed like they had somewhere to go, something important they needed to do. Marlowe gazed back down at the table. That wasn’t her. At least not anymore.
Marlowe took another sip of the tea and wondered where things had gone wrong. She had the same conversation with herself for what felt like months on end. Did she miss a warning sign? Was there some change in Vince she didn’t see? She chewed on her lip, the taste of blood back in her mouth. Sure, one of the biggest ones was when he got her to sign the paperwork releasing him from the partnership and the loan, but she knew at least part of that was on her. She never noticed. Never asked what the papers were for. She was so caught up in the details of the building that she’d given him carte blanche with the finances. That was a mistake. It was a mistake she would never repeat if she had the chance. But the odds of that were slim. Even though Chicago was a big city, the construction community was small and tight-knit. That was a good thing if you were looking for projects. It was a bad thing if you failed. There was no other way to characterize the last few months other than a complete and utter failure.
“Can I get you more tea?” the waitress said, interrupting Marlowe’s thoughts. For a moment, a streak of jealousy ran through Marlowe. Even the girl serving her tea had a job and a purpose. She was probably an art student or a college kid trying to make some extra money. At least the server had a plan, or at least Marlowe assumed she did. That was more than Marlowe could say about herself.
“No, thank you. I have to leave soon.”
It was a bald-faced lie.
Marlowe could have sat there all day long. She had nothing to do. Nowhere to go. For the last few days, she had thought about going back to Montana, spending some time with her family, and trying to get her life back in order. But the idea of driving the whole way home, having to put even her gas money on a credit card she couldn’t pay, and then explaining the whole mess to her aging parents seemed unfathomable.
Standing up, Marlowe decided it was time to leave. She picked up her purse and went outside, walking around the corner to her car. As she started it up, she decided the only place she could go would be the office. Not that there was anything to do there, but at least she could check for any papers that had been left behind and drop off her key. It felt like surrender, the final battle in a long war that she had lost.
Marlowe left her car in the same spot she always parked in at the back of the lot and walked up the flight of steps to their office, exhaustion covering her. She had never felt so tired in her whole life. She reached for the banister to steady her, seeing the steps swim in front of her eyes. As she got to the landing, she used the key to open the door, light streaming out into the hallway. Clicking the door closed behind her, she stared. All the furniture was still in the office. It looked the same as it had when she had been there a couple of days before, all except for the eviction notice taped to the door.
A roll of blueprints was on the worktable in the center of the office, a few boxes of papers nearby. She knew those were estimates and design notes. She walked towards the window and stared out, seeing more people moving down the sidewalks, cars passing by. When she turned back, she saw that Vince’s office door was open. Without thinking, she walked towards it, pushing the door back against the wall.
When they rented the office space, Vince wanted more of a proper office — a dark desk, two chairs in front of it, a bookcase behind it. Marlowe wasn’t tuned up the same way. She was happy with the worktable and a chair they gave her so she had the room she needed to spread out the plans and her papers. Vince wanted to look more like the executive type. Marlowe hadn’t been in his office much. When they talked, he usually came out and sat near her at the worktable. It made it easier to discuss things on the blueprints if they could look at them together.
Standing there, staring at the polished wood furniture that Marlowe was sure she would end up paying for somehow, a wave of anger crashed over her. It wasn’t frustration. It was rage. She felt like she was burning up inside. Vince had taken everything from her and trying to convince anyone to listen had been a Herculean effort. She wasn’t sure what was worse — Vince’s betrayal or the fact that no one believed her. Without thinking, Marlowe walked over to Vince’s desk, looking at the top of it. It was covered with a cup of pens, a pad of paper, and some miscellaneous paperwork. The rage inside of her slipped back enough that she could focus on looking at what was left behind. He’s taken everything I have, now maybe I can take something from him, she thought. The odds of him leaving anything behind that was of value was probably close to zero, but she felt justified in digging through what he left in the office.
Over the next hour, Marlowe ripped apart everything in Vince’s office. There wasn’t much of value in the drawers attached to his desk, just a few pads of paper and a checkbook from the loan account that was now defunct. In the file drawer at the bottom, there were few paid invoices and a few letters and inspection notices they had received from the city. Marlowe pulled those out and s
et them on the desk. If she was ever able to get control of the project again, those might be helpful, she thought. She stood up, putting her hands on her hips and looked around the office. Was there anything else? She glanced at the bookshelves. An idea formed in Marlowe’s head. Vince was sneaky. The fact that he’d been able to steal all that money from her was evidence of that fact, or her own incompetence. Both made her equally angry. Marlowe took two steps forward toward the bookshelves. They were filled with titles on finance and negotiation. Marlowe doubted Vince had read any of them. Knowing what she knew now, he was more street smart, more thug than a businessman.
Rage covered her again and she lunged forward ripping the books off the bookshelves. She did it with such force that one of the shelves came loose and clattered to the ground. It felt good, she realized. Reaching forward, Marlowe ripped at the books over and over again, until there was a pile on the floor. She stood back, out of breath, staring at the mess she had made. Her chest lifted and descended, the stress pouring out of her. Vince had made a mess in her life. At least she was able to make a mess in his office. It was little recompense, but at least it was a place to start. As she turned back to the desk to pick up the few papers she had found, she saw something on the floor. A thin red notebook with a leather cover. There was no title on it.
Marlowe knelt down and picked it up, thumbing through the pages, feeling the polished leather and the heavy paper between her fingers. Vince’s handwriting was scrawled across the page. She wasn’t sure what it was. As she stared at the pages, she saw dates and initials and amounts and a second set of initials, but there were no column headings. The amounts were small, a couple of thousand noted on each line. Marlowe squinted at the page. Was it possible it was a book listing all the payoffs Vince made to the city? Her heart started to beat a little faster in her chest. If Vince had paid off the inspectors, it would be harder than ever to get her project back on track. A sinking feeling washed over her. The likelihood that she would have to go back to Montana and start all over again loomed ahead of her like a rising wave.
