by KJ Kalis
Marlowe walked to the window in Vince’s office, pulling the blind aside. It was a pretty day, crisp and clear. That wasn’t how she was feeling. Finding a few leftover pieces of paper and a little red notebook didn’t seem like much of a victory. Marlowe turned, going back out into the main office space. She pulled the keys out of her pocket, removing the office key from her key ring. She set it on the counter, hoping the landlord would be able to spot it when he came in to look at the space her company no longer needed. Another wave of emotion covered her, this time sadness. Marlowe turned, walking towards the door, knowing that when she closed it for the last time, the chapter of her life with Lincoln Park Construction was closed.
24
Vince was late. He had a meeting scheduled with Adam Rossiter to finalize their new partnership agreement. Rossiter Enterprises had agreed to a partnership that was worth one hundred million dollars. Vince would put up twenty percent — the balance of the money in his Cayman Islands account and the Rossiter family would fund the other eighty million. It was an exorbitant amount of money, way more than they would need to finish the Lakeview project, rescuing it from its condemned status and getting it back on track.
That morning, Vince called the architect to arrange a meeting. “We are going to need a few tweaks on the design.”
“Did you want me to set up a time to meet with you and Marlowe?”
“It’ll just be me you’re meeting with, oh, and my new business partner. Marlowe’s off the project.”
The architect didn’t ask any questions. He knew better. People on construction projects seemed to come and go even faster than they did in the restaurant industry. One day you could be the project manager for the redevelopment of a property and the next minute someone else replaced you. That was the case with Marlowe.
Straightening his tie, Vince picked up his car keys and the folder of papers he needed for his meeting. Then he stopped. He walked back over to his computer, remembering there was one thing he had to do in order to make the Rossiter deal complete. Vince sat down at his laptop, flipping open the lid and typed in his password. He opened up the account in the Cayman Islands and scheduled a transfer back to his new business account. When he had set up the final meeting with the Rossiter family, Adam had sent him an email, “Our accounting team is going to want to see evidence of the investment you are making. Make sure you bring it with you to the signing or we won’t be able to finalize.”
Vince didn’t think that having millions of dollars in an offshore account would make the Rossiter family feel comfortable with his investment, so a quick transfer was in order. Even if the money wasn’t actually in the account yet, he could at least show them it was on its way. As Vince keyed in the number for the transfer, he realized how many zeros it was. Never in his life did he think he’d have access to this kind of money. He’d come a long way after starting with small projects that barely had a hundred thousand in their budget. Now he was dealing with a project in multiples of that, not a drop of sweat on his brow.
He tilted his head to the side, the screen giving him the option to transfer the entire balance. He didn’t want to do that. Leaving the million-plus dollars in the account that had been generated as interest, he only moved exactly the twenty million into his business account. That should satisfy the Rossiter’s, he thought. If things went well, he knew that within just a few hours, he’d have a new business partner and a hefty project account to get everything back on track with.
An hour later, Vince was sitting in the Rossiter Enterprises conference room. Everything in it smelled of money, from the plush carpet to the high-backed executive chairs. Adam’s assistant, a tall brunette with her hair neatly piled on top of her head in a tight skirt, had brought Vince a cup of coffee. He watched her as she walked out of the room, Adam walking in just as the assistant left. “Appreciating the merchandise?”
Vince felt his face redden, “Sorry. She just brought me a cup of coffee.”
Adam pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down, “And you’re wondering if I hired her for her looks or her brains?”
“Well, I was…”
A smile crept across one side of Adam’s face. “It’s okay. Both, actually. Jessica just got her MBA from Wharton.”
Vince whistled. The Wharton School of Management was one of the finest MBA programs in the country. “Jessica’s the full package, huh?”
Adam nodded, “You could say that. We only like to deal with the best in their field. Makes life easier that way.” Adam looked right at Vince, “Did you bring the paperwork?”
“You mean the verification of funds?”
Adam nodded.
Vince pulled his laptop out of his briefcase and opened it up, his heart beating a little faster. Didn’t Adam believe him? “The money is there. Hasn’t transferred yet, but it’s on its way.” Vince slid the laptop over to Adam so he could take a look at the screen.
“Can you email me the verification number for the transfer? I need it for our legal department. They are real sticklers. Take the fun out of everything.”
“I get that. Glad I’m not an attorney. Would be hard to live your life as a killjoy.”
With a couple of keystrokes, Vince sent the confirmation email to Adams inbox. Adam looked at his phone and nodded, “Thanks for that. The rest of the team is on their way.”
An hour later, Vince was on his way back down the elevator, the rosy glow of success spread all over his face. The signing had gone off without a hitch. Rossiter’s legal and accounting department would get the new accounts opened and ready to go. Vince would get to work on adjustments to the Lakeview design the Rossiter family had requested and then they would finish the project, and finish it the right way. They had even celebrated with a glass of champagne, each person around the table taking a few polite sips except for Adam and Vince, who guzzled theirs down. Jessica, Adam’s assistant had stood against the back of the wall, her hands clasped in front of her watching and waiting to fulfill any of the needs of the family.
The minute Vince got into his Land Rover and slammed the door closed, he pumped his fist in victory. His arrangement with Marlowe had been a nightmare. Now, the nightmare was no more. He pulled out of the office building parking lot where the Rossiter offices were located, turning right. He pushed the accelerator to the Land Rover, merging onto the highway, getting off a couple of exits later, weaving his way through traffic. His eyes lifted as he got closer. The Lakeview. It was all his. Actually, it was all his with the help of the Rossiter family. They had given him carte blanche to do what was needed, the money to fund it, and Adam had even surprised him with an expense account. He pulled in, parking in the construction lot. He turned off the engine and stared at the building, knowing the stop-work order would soon be removed — Adam said likely the next day. The nervous energy of the project getting restarted surged through his body like an electrical current.
As he started the Land Rover up again, giving the engine a little rev, he realized there were two last things he needed to do in order to be completely free. The time to get working on those was now.
25
Emily was working on her computer, sitting next to Mike in the kitchen when her phone rang. It was Marlowe. Though she now knew Marlowe was telling the truth, dealing with her was still a challenging issue, to be sure. Emily didn’t like hysterical people. It seemed every single time that she talked to Marlowe, that was the case.
Emily stared out the window for a second, noticing that the dusky sky had turned completely black, the phone still ringing. The days in Chicago were getting shorter and shorter. They were losing a minute or two of light every single day. That would continue until just about Christmas, at which point the entire process would reverse itself. It was predictable, unlike many things in Emily’s life, particularly Marlowe.
“Are you going to get that?” Mike asked, glancing up from his computer.
Emily stared at the phone for another second, her stomach clenching. At
the last second, she picked it up, preventing it from going to voicemail. “Marlowe?”
“Emily. I thought I’d get your voicemail.”
For a second, Emily wondered if Marlowe was delivering a zinger. Emily decided to ignore it, “I have just a second. What can I do for you?” Even though Emily knew the truth about the situation — that Vince had somehow convinced Marlowe to sign away his responsibility for the loan on the Lakeview project and had managed to untangle himself from their partnership in Lincoln Park Construction, Emily still felt wary. Had Marlowe delivered the information to her in a more logical, less emotional way, Emily might have been more open to hearing what she said. As it was now, Emily could feel her back stiffen with every syllable that came out of Marlowe’s mouth.
“I did something today…” the words that came out of Marlowe’s mouth trailed off.
“Like what?” Emily wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer, the stiffening in her back traveling the entire way up to her neck, tightening all the muscles.
“I went to the office and I think I found something, but I don’t know what it is.”
Emily stood up, leaving Mike still working on his computer. His eyes trailed her as she walked into the family room. Emily started to pace, “What did you find?”
“A little red book. There are initials and numbers in it, but I don’t know what they mean.”
“Where did you find it?”
There was a pause, as if Marlowe was trying to decide what to tell Emily. “Well, I went into Vince’s office. There is an eviction notice on the space, so I went in to get my things.”
The last thing Emily wanted to do was get into a long, drawn-out conversation with Marlowe about every last item that she retrieved from their soon-to-be reclaimed office space. That kind of information was a waste of time, not to mention frustrating, “Can you get to the point, please?”
“I’m sorry. I know you’re busy,” Marlowe’s words were short and clipped. “I got mad while I was in there. I went through all of Vince’s drawers and then I pulled all of his books off the bookcase and threw them on the floor in a pile. The little notebook skittered away. I almost missed it. I don’t know if it is something, but I thought it was strange.”
Emily furrowed her brows and swallowed. A small red notebook with initials and amounts in it could be anything, but given what they knew about Vince, she wondered if it was tied to his gambling debt. Emily remembered for a moment that Anthony had said the people that were controlling Vince’s debt didn’t use online resources. If that was the case, the fact that Vince had a little book with amounts and dates in it could mean it was Vince’s win-loss record when he started playing the high-stakes poker circuit. “Where is the notebook now?”
“I have it.”
The moment she realized Marlowe had the notebook, Emily knew she needed to retrieve it. That might be just the information she needed to get the case closed. But the reality was that it was pitch black outside now. There was no way she was going to meet Marlowe at her house or even at her friend’s apartment. No, they needed a neutral location, one where Emily could leave quickly if Marlowe got hysterical again. Not to mention the fact that there was likely nothing Emily could do about the information overnight.
On the face of it, Emily knew she could defend herself. The problem was that Marlowe was overly emotional. Overly emotional people tended to do stupid things — this, Emily knew from experience. Keeping Marlowe at arm’s length while trying to solve the case was the best that she could do for her. Marlowe’s emotional issues would have to be attended to by someone who was more gifted in mercy, like Angelica, or even better, a counselor. “Remember the park we met at a couple of days ago?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Meet me there at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Bring the red book.” Emily didn’t wait for Marlowe to respond. She hung up. The reality was that if Marlowe didn’t show up, Emily would be done with the case, again. She stood, staring out the front window for a minute, realizing that unlike every other case she worked, somehow, she put Marlowe on probation. It was as if she was waiting for Marlowe to take a step before Emily would match one with her own.
As Emily walked back into the kitchen, Mike stared at her. “What was that about?”
“Marlowe thinks she’s got some sort of evidence for me to look at.”
“Are you going to take it?”
Emily nodded, “I told her to meet me at the park tomorrow morning at eight.”
Mike scowled, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. “What is it?”
“A little red book…”
The next morning dawned bright and surprisingly sunny. Emily knew that the reality of a bank of clouds obscuring the sky in the next few hours was likely. Chicago weather in the fall was fickle, ranging from bright sunshine that could leave someone feeling optimistic about their day to gloomy clouds that clustered over the sky just a few minutes later. Emily rolled out of bed, took a quick shower, pulling on a pair of jeans, a DePaul University T-shirt, and a Chicago Bears hoodie over top. As she let Miner out the back door, she started a pot of coffee, pulling a travel mug out of the cabinet. It was not that she planned on being gone for very long but having coffee with her made the entire excursion seem more human, especially if Marlowe decided to get hysterical again. Emily sighed. At this point, she didn’t even know if there was a red book. Marlowe could have made up the entire story just to get Emily back in a position where she could scream at her again. Emily closed her eyes for a second, shaking off the thought.
“Morning.” Still groggy, Mike, his hair sticking up in every direction wandered into the kitchen, the wood floor creaking underneath his bare feet. “Off to see Marlowe?”
Emily raised her eyebrows, “After you wake up a little, can you take Miner for a walk?”
“Of course.”
Emily heard scratching at the back door. As she opened it, Miner trotted in, sniffing Emily and then Mike. Emily walked to the back door, pulling on her work boots and a jacket over top of her sweatshirt. From her wrist, she pulled an elastic band, tying her dark hair back behind her head. As she glanced back into the kitchen, she saw her pistol laying on the counter. Without saying anything, she walked over and clipped it to the back of her belt. Marlowe seemed reasonable and logical when Emily spoke to her the night before, but it was always better to be safe than sorry.
When she looked up from pulling her sweatshirt over the butt end of the pistol, Mike raised his eyebrows. “Have fun!” he said, with a smirk.
Emily didn’t say any more, just shook her head and walked out the back door, her keys jingling in her hand.
In her truck, Emily ran through the possible outcomes of her meeting with Marlowe. It could be nothing. There could be no red book. It might not exist. If that was the case, then it didn’t matter what else Marlowe said. Emily wouldn’t finish the case. Marlowe would have to settle her scores on her own. The other option was that there was a red book, but Marlowe had fabricated the entire thing -- finding it, the writing in it, the location of it. In that case, Emily would probably chase her tail for a couple of days, figuring it out. She felt a wave of frustration crawl up her arms.
If it hadn’t been for Angelica, she thought…
The other option was that the red book was real and that Marlowe was telling the truth about where she had found it. Even if that were the case, there was no guarantee that the information would be helpful. But Emily wouldn’t know that until she had her hands on it.
The last option was one that was the most interesting to Emily. Maybe, just maybe, the information in the red notebook would be enough to leverage Vince and get justice for Marlowe, giving Emily an actual case to solve. If she had a choice, Emily would have disqualified Marlowe from getting her help just based on how emotional she was, but the reality was that Emily was in the thick of it. She was in the middle of the case, with no end in sight, whether she liked it or not.
As predicted, by the ti
me Emily got to the park and found a spot to leave the truck, the clouds that haunted Chicago in the fall had covered the sky again. Emily got out, this time not taking two or three laps around the park to scope it out. She went directly to the center of the park, the same place they’d met before. It was ten minutes before eight and she could see Marlowe already standing at the benches where they had met before. At least she was on time. Marlowe’s arms were crossed in front of her chest as if she was cold, her curls blowing this way and that in the morning breeze. As Emily approached her, she decided to say a step or two farther back than she normally would have. Looking at Marlowe, the last few days hadn’t been kind to her. She was even paler than before, her skin nearly translucent, as if she had no blood flow. Emily had seen that look before on dead bodies. What was going on with Marlowe, she just wasn’t sure, but she didn’t have time to figure it out. “Morning.”
Marlowe nodded, “Thanks for meeting me.”
“Do you have the book?”
Marlowe nodded and started fumbling inside her jacket pocket. A second later, she produced a small notebook, covered in red leather. She passed it to Emily. It was thin, not the normal thickness of a notebook you could buy from the store. The binding looked to be hand-stitched. As Emily flipped it open, she could see pencil marks, the graphite neatly lining up on the pages. Unlike traditional notebooks, this one was filled with what looked like ledger paper. It was certainly a custom job, not something you could find at a drugstore or an office supply store. “Tell me again where you found this?” Emily remembered the story. That wasn’t why she asked. She was looking for consistency in what Marlowe was offering.
“In the office. I went there yesterday to return my key. I grabbed my papers and then decided to go through Vince’s office in case there was anything in there I thought I might be able to use if I’m ever able to finish the project.” Marlowe sighed and glanced away, shoving her hands in her pockets. She closed her eyes for a second, which Emily thought was strange, but then opened them again. “Like I told you last night, I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I lost my temper. I can be a little emotional.” Marlowe’s hand drifted up to her head as if she had a headache, “Sorry, I’m just not feeling all that great this morning. I think it’s just stress.” Marlowe swallowed and then continued, “I got mad and started yanking all the books off of Vince’s shelves. I’m not even sure he read them. He probably just put them there to make himself look good in case someone came into the office. Props, you know what I mean?”
