by KJ Kalis
The building looked even more desolate as she walked towards it in the darkness. The wind started to blow off the lake, followed by rain. Emily pulled the hood on her jacket up over her head and stuffed her hands in her pockets, the damp eating its way through the layers she’d put on.
As the rain ran in droplets down her jacket, Emily squinted into the darkness, looking for a gap where she could get into the building before Vince. Passing the main construction gate, Emily saw the stop-work order had been replaced by a large green placard that read, “City of Chicago Work Permit.”
“Well, you didn’t waste any time, did you?” Emily whispered, seeing that construction had been approved by the city. The main gate was locked. It looked like a different padlock set than when she’d visited the property with Marlowe. That probably made sense given the fact that someone else now owned the building — Vince’s benefactor. Emily squinted in the rain and walked back toward the truck. She considered her options. She could wait for Vince to get there and then tail him into the building, but that would leave him with more opportunities to hear her if she wasn’t ahead of him. Emily needed to get into the building before him. She felt her stomach tighten. The thought that she might step on a loose screw or trip over a piece of construction debris and alert Vince to her presence wasn’t the way she wanted to start the confrontation.
Walking back around the building, Emily saw a small hole in the construction fence bathed in a shadow. She used her fingers to wipe the water off her face, the cold rain fogging her vision. Practically invisible in the darkness, Emily guessed kids had cut the fence away from the post, giving them just enough room to go inside to hang out in the empty building. Kneeling down, Emily felt the wet ground soak through the knees of her jeans, but she managed to wriggle her way through the hole. Stopping for a moment just inside the fence, she got a sense of where the break in the chain-link was compared to where her truck was parked. That would be helpful knowledge if she needed to get away after she saw Vince.
Walking towards the back of the building, Emily kept her head down, her hands jammed in her pockets, walking carefully, trying not to trip on the uneven ground that was covered with gravel and dirt. Almost into the back of the building, she slipped, catching herself before she fell. “Careful,” she hissed to herself. She’d be no good to anyone if she twisted her ankle before she got inside of the building. No good to herself and definitely no good to Marlowe.
The back doors of the building were open. As she stepped inside, Emily noticed a sign that said, “Parking Garage.” Most of the buildings in Chicago had some sort of attached parking. Emily hadn’t noticed it when she’d met Marlowe. That was good to know.
Wiping the water off her jacket, Emily felt her phone buzz in her pocket. “Third floor,” was the only information in the text. It was from Anthony, confirming the final location of the meeting. “Just in time,” she whispered.
In the darkness, Emily found her way to the stairwell. Checking the time on her phone, she realized there were still twenty-five minutes before Vince was due at the building. As she got to the second floor, her phone buzzed again. It was Mike. “Vince is on the move.”
Emily picked up the pace, wanting to beat Vince up to the third floor. As she exited the stairwell, she saw another sign for the parking garage. How she hadn’t noticed it before, she wasn’t sure. Turning the other direction, she pushed the door open to the third-floor lobby area. The rain, coming in off the lake, was dripping into the building near the open windows, leaving a dark stain on the concrete floors where the water was puddling. Emily scanned the area, realizing she needed to find a spot in the darkness. Though she expected the building to be completely black, the glow from the adjacent buildings lit up the area near the windows. Emily chose the opposite side, where she’d have a good view of Vince coming out of the stairwell as well as the tactical advantage of surprising him.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed a few things had changed since she’d been there last. New piles of construction supplies had been delivered, likely lifted through the open windows. Pallets of two-by-fours and coils of electrical cable were stationed near the center of the room. The smell of dust and drywall filled the air, kicked up by the moisture from the rain. Emily scanned the room, realizing she could take up a position on the left side of the doorway where a stack of large trash receptacles had been left. She pulled them closer to the wall, building up a makeshift barricade she could hide behind. Squatting down, she leaned against the wall.
It was time to wait.
37
The meeting with the Rossiter’s and the architects had gone better than Vince expected. The first hour was spent milling around, the new blueprints not only on a glass table but also projected up on the wall, different views changing every few minutes. Vince circulated, trying to talk to everyone, feeling a trickle of sweat run down the back of his shirt. These people were different, very different, than dealing with Marlowe.
Two hours later, filled with filet mignon and red wine, Vince checked the time on his watch. He leaned over to Adam, who had just drained the rest of his glass. “Listen, bro. I gotta run over to the building. We’ve got an inspector who wants a little grease in his palm to get things moving.”
“No problem. Let me help you out with that.” Adam got up from where he was sitting, wiped his mouth, and tossed his napkin on the chair. Vince followed him down the hallway where Adam opened his office door. The lights flicked on automatically, lighting up the plush space, filled with burgundy-covered furniture and custom woodwork. From behind a picture on a wall that was on a hinge, Adam revealed a safe door. Keying in the combination, the door popped open with a quiet beep, “How much do you think it’ll take?”
Vince shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know the guy. I’ll try to get them to move things forward with five, but how about if you give me ten just in case?”
As Adam retrieved the stacks of cash from the safe, he glanced back at Vince, “Who is this guy, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Some electrical inspector. I know those inspections are coming up in the next couple of weeks.”
Adam shrugged as he handed Vince the cash. “Probably some new guy. Get his name for me, will you? We need to keep track of how much we’ve given him.”
“Will do.”
Vince stuffed the cash on the inside of his sport coat and walked down the hallway to the elevators. He had just enough time to get to the building by nine o’clock. Darting into the parking garage, he jumped into the Land Rover, starting the engine up and pulling out of the building with a squeal of the tires. He would’ve liked to stay and have another couple of glasses of wine with Adam and his family. They seemed like nice people, he thought, turning on the music in the car. He realized it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting the Lakeview project up and running again and rented. If he had any hopes of living the same way that Adam and his family did, that was the only way to accomplish it.
As he pulled into the parking lot for the Lakeview, he noticed there was no one else there. He probably rushed for nothing, he realized. The inspector was late. Sighing, he pulled the collar up on his trench coat, sheets of rain driving down at him as he unlocked the gate and pushed it open. If the weather had been better, he would have just waited by the gate for the inspector, but the normally nice fall weather had turned horrendous with sheets of cold, damp rain coming at him.
As quickly as he could, he darted into the building, taking cover just inside the lobby. The text he got that morning said they needed to meet. When Vince texted back a couple of hours ago, the inspector told him the third floor. At least if he had to wait for the guy, he could enjoy the view.
“Things are already happening,” he said out loud, noticing the piles of construction materials that were already assembled in the main lobby. It was amazing to him how quickly Adam’s family moved. “You guys don’t waste any time, do you?” he said, to no one in particular.
Using the flas
hlight on his phone, Vince walked over to the stairwell. Although there were work lights up in some areas of the building, they weren’t on everywhere. The general contractor had strung a few on every single floor while they were waiting on the wiring, but there were none in the stairwell.
As Vince climbed up to the third floor, he felt a surge of frustration. He’d much rather be at the bar with his friends or drinking another bottle of expensive wine with Adam. Who was this guy that wanted to meet with him anyway? Vince brushed some of the rain off his coat. Probably some young new inspector who had no idea how to play the game. Maybe he could get away with giving him only five hundred dollars, Vince thought. Dealing with the city was a lot like gambling, he decided, opening the door to the third floor.
It was eerily quiet as Vince stepped towards the windows. A switch on the wall illuminated three bulbs that had been hung over a pile of newly delivered lumber and wiring supplies to be installed the next week. Vince looked around, thinking that somehow maybe he’d missed seeing the inspector, but then he realized the gate had been locked, so there was no way for the guy to get up into the building without breaking in.
Stopping at the pile of lumber, Vince pulled out his phone. It was just a little after nine. “You’d think somebody who wanted a payoff would be on time,” he muttered.
38
About two minutes after Emily hunkered down behind the trash cans, she got a text from Mike. “He’s at the building.”
Emily’s throat tightened. At least Mike was keeping tabs on what was going on. That was good news. Emily lifted her coat and hoodie over the butt of her gun, exposing it, staying squatted down behind the trash cans. Her legs were cramping, but knowing that Vince had arrived, she knew it would be time to move soon.
Emily didn’t think Vince had any idea that he was at the building to do anything other than meet a city inspector. Anthony’s crew ran a tight ship, so the information wouldn’t have come from Anthony. Shifting her weight between her legs, trying to keep the circulation moving, Emily checked the time on her cell phone again, just as she heard the slightest noise from the stairwell, as if someone on a floor below had opened the door. She stood up for a second, shaking her legs out and then squatted back down behind the trash cans, resuming her position, her hand on the butt of her gun. In reality, she had no idea who was coming up the steps. It should be Vince, but there was no way to know until he emerged.
The door to the stairwell pushed open, making a grating sound on the floor as the metal passed over the exposed concrete floor. Emily curled back into her position even farther. From between the trash cans, she could see Vince. The outline of him turned left and right and then three bulbs flickered on above the lumber pile in the middle of the room. Emily’s stomach tightened. The last time she’d been in the building there was no electrical service. These people move fast, she thought.
Watching for a moment, Emily saw Vince sit down on the lumber pile in the middle of the room. With all the interior walls taken out and the holes for the windows empty. It was cavernous, the echo of the rain from outside bouncing off the walls.
Emily swallowed. It was time to move.
As she stood up, Vince had his back to her, the slope of his shoulders covered by a trench coat. “Vince,” she said.
Vince stood up, clearly startled by the sound of someone’s voice coming from behind the trash cans. He whirled around and stared at Emily, “Who are you?”
“That’s not important. What is important is who I know.”
Vince started toward her, “What does that mean?”
“You put your former business partner in a bad position, didn’t you?”
Even in the dim light, Emily could see the blood running out of Vince’s face. The normally tan skin she’d seen in pictures had turned pallid, the corners of his mouth drooping. “What are you talking about?”
“Marlowe. Wasn’t it somewhere on this floor where you raped her?”
Vince’s cheeks reddened, his body stiffening, “I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about, but you’ve got it all wrong.”
Emily slid her right foot back a little bit, resting her hand on the butt of her gun. “Do I? Sounds to me like you took all the money she had, her reputation, forced yourself on her and then you tried to kill her. Doesn’t sound like the kind of guy I’d want to do business with...”
Emily watched Vince’s eyes. They dropped to her hip. He had just noticed her gun. Vince whipped his arm around, jamming his hand on the right side of his own hip, pulling out a pistol. Shots rang out, bouncing off the emptiness of the building. Emily ducked, her heart pounding in her chest, and got off two rounds which both missed. Running to get behind another pile of construction materials, Emily tripped, nearly going headfirst into a pile of drywall. Picking herself up, she heard the two magazines she put in her pocket skitter away. Her heart sank, as fear set in. In the dim light, she’d never be able to find them.
Diving behind the pile of drywall, three more shots rang out over Emily’s head. She didn’t have time to think. Taking a kneeling stance, she sent three shots Vince’s way. He spun out of the way of two of them, but the third clipped the side of his leg.
Emily watched as he charged her direction, his trench coat flying out behind him like wings. Vince was bigger and stronger than she was. Terror covered her. Time slowed. Emily had no backup. She was alone.
Vince was closing the gap between the two of them quickly. Emily raised her gun and then realized it was empty. She needed those magazines. Frantically looking around, she heard a noise coming from the corner of the room.
A man came charging out of the door, his gun raised, “Stop! Police!”
It was Lou. Emily didn’t have time to ask him how he knew she was at the building. Watching, she saw Vince turn, his eyes wide. He ran for the exit that led to the parking garage. Glancing around her on the floor, she spotted the two missing magazines, quickly loading one in her gun and holstering it.
There was no time to think. Emily’s breathing was ragged, the air getting caught in her throat. She couldn’t let Vince get away. Emily took off running behind Vince, following him to the parking garage. Lou was running behind her. The sound of the blood pumping in her chest and the rain pounded in her head, as she pushed her way out the door to the garage. Like the Lakeview building, the sides were open. Vince had backed his way up against one of the ledges. It was a three-story drop onto the concrete below him. Everything was concrete in downtown Chicago. As soon as he saw Emily, he tossed his gun, staring at her, “Go ahead! Why don’t you shoot me! You gonna kill an unarmed man?”
As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Lou came up behind Emily, his gun drawn down low in front of him, “You okay?”
Emily nodded. She followed Lou as they approached Vince. It felt surreal -- like Emily was back on a case again with her old partner. Lou held his two hands up and holstered his gun. “Now, I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but it doesn’t seem that getting shot will solve it, wouldn’t you agree?”
Emily saw Vince back up a couple of more steps, glancing over his right shoulder, staring down below. “Don’t get any closer!” he shouted. “I’ll do it!”
“Now, why would you go and do something like that? It’s a long way down from here,” Lou said.
Emily was panting, trying to catch her breath after the adrenaline rush and the running. Would Vince really jump? She didn’t know. He was an angry, desperate man, though. Angry people made bad decisions.
Vince’s eyes were wild. Pointing at Emily, he yelled, “You don’t know what’s going on here. She’s the one you should arrest. Not me.”
Emily raised her eyebrows, calm settling over her, “Here’s where things get sticky, Vince. Actually, we do know each other. We used to work together. So, would you like to tell him about Marlowe, or should I?”
Vince froze for a second, his eyes darting back and forth. It was a dangerous moment. Vince was about to do something, but what, Em
ily didn’t know. Suddenly, she saw Vince lunge for the gun that had fallen near his right foot. Emily drew her pistol, but Lou already had the shot off, hitting Vince in the lower leg as he reached for his gun. With a groan, Vince crumpled on the ground, unable to stand on the leg that had been penetrated by the metal of the round.
Emily took two steps towards Vince, not sure what to do. She couldn’t very well shoot him right in front of Lou. As she moved forward, she heard the squeal of tires approaching. She turned toward the noise, putting her hand on her gun. Lou stepped in next to her. Emily licked her lips, her heart racing.
A black SUV pulled up, its lights blazing. From out of the car, the driver and passenger got out, both of them putting their hands up as if to tell Emily and Lou they meant no harm. The driver went around to the back seat and opened the door. From inside, a well-built older man, wearing a long khaki coat and dress pants got out and walked to the front of the SUV, approaching Lou and Emily.
“Oh, thank God,” Vince moaned. “Frank, you’ve got to help me. This cop...” he pointed at Lou, “...he just shot me, for no reason.”
It didn’t take but a few seconds for Emily to put two and two together. The man that had arrived was Frank Battaglia, the one that owned Vince’s gambling debt. How did he know what was happening tonight? Emily frowned for a moment. Anthony.
Before Emily could say anything, Frank approached Lou and Emily, his hands open and up, just like his driver and the passenger. Emily realized the other men were likely his bodyguards. “I’ve been having some problems with Mr. Olivas. I see you have, too. I’m assuming you’d like to arrest him?”
Emily didn’t say a word, glancing at Lou, who replied, “That was my plan.”
Emily was surprised at the way that Lou replied. It didn’t seem definite, as though there was some question about what would happen next.
“I was wondering if I might have a word with him, even take him for a drive, before I turn him over to you. Would that be all right?”
