by Stone, Piper
“Anything. What’s going on?”
“Is there any way that you can watch out for the store? Just for a few days. The party can wait. The employees know what to do. I just need someone there I can trust.”
Emily jumped to her feet, crowding closer. “Absolutely. What is happening?”
“It’s my father.” I lifted my head, my heart aching. “He’s dead.”
* * *
The plane ride took longer that I’d expected given the ferocious spring storms. The layover in St. Louis had taken several hours. By the time the flight landed at O’Hare, it was almost three in the morning. I’d read as much of the email that my father’s attorney had sent, the same one who’d called several times, finally texting in an effort to reach me. There was little to say about my father’s death. He’d been at a gala event and simply dropped dead, suspected of having a heart attack.
His attorney had felt it was imperative that I come to Chicago with haste, even though he refused to tell me why over the phone or in writing. I was lucky enough to find a cab that would take me as far to my selected hotel. I certainly didn’t want to stay in my father’s... in my old house. I just couldn’t. But I did want to remain close, especially to his office. I’d already instructed the attorney to begin looking for a buyer for the corporation. The way the man had laughed left me ill at ease, my instinct screaming there was a significant story yet to be told.
I was the only one in my father’s will, so I’d have to spend time going through his things, selling or dumping furniture in an effort to get the house ready to sell. I certainly didn’t want to liquidate the business, but I would if I had to. There was no way I was going to run a real estate development operation. The concept wasn’t in my blood in any manner. Maybe the employees would consider purchasing, or at least one of them could run it in the interim.
I was exhausted after checking in but was unable to sleep. So, I sat in the comfy armchair, a bourbon over ice from the mini-bar in my hand, staring out at the bright and beautiful lights of the city. They were even more mesmerizing at night when the majority of the world was asleep. I was on the twentieth floor, which allowed me a wonderful voyeuristic view of the buildings and the festive lights.
I remember as a kid that I loved the city, never planning on leaving. Everything was so exciting, alive no matter the time of day or night. Now? I couldn’t care less. I laughed as I pulled the blanket from the bed around my shoulders, sipping on the liquor, enjoying the slight burn as it slid down the back of my throat. I hadn’t seen Mr. Rutherford since I was around fifteen. He’d been my father’s attorney since I could remember, yet he was certainly not considered a friend of my father’s. I’m not even certain if my father had many friends.
He called my mother his best friend, the only woman he ever loved. I knew he was devastated when she died, but the event destroyed our closeness. Finding out what my father was into hammered the nails into the coffin. I turned off the light, preferring the darkness, trying to make sense of everything, including the very reason I’d shut my father out of my life. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t fix anything. I couldn’t...
As the tears finally began to fall, streaming down my face, I leaned my head against the chair, clawing the upholstery, wanting so much to talk to my father. Just like we used to. I wanted to be able to see his face, to tell him how sorry I was. I wanted to forgive him for what I thought was so horrible. Now, I’d never have the chance.
And for that, I’d never forgive myself.
I closed my eyes, reliving every moment like a beautiful slow-motion video, the pictures and images, even laughter and tears creating such a vacuum of emotion that I sobbed openly, allowing the tears to flow. I’d lost my whole world. When I was finally able to close my eyes, I could see his face, but instead of the gentle smile he’d always given me, I witnessed what could only be described as terror. He was warning me.
What in the hell was going on?
The morning dawned overcast, the dark clouds indicating a stormy day. That was just fine with me. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with any bullshit or lies. I wanted to know the truth about my father’s company, including seeing the financials. I hadn’t earned a Master’s in business administration during my time in Virginia without learning a hell of a lot about running a business, including various stock options and tax benefits. At least that would prevent some lowball asshole from trying to get one up on me.
Fucking no way. I would secure the best possible sale, hopefully to someone who would allow the employees to maintain their jobs. The car was waiting for me just as Mr. Rutherford had said, the driver pointing out different sights as if I’d never been to the city before. I didn’t bother to correct him. I was far too nervous, and his bantering was actually helping.
When he passed the street where I knew my father’s office building was located, hackles raised on the back of my neck. “This isn’t the way to Markum & Associates.”
“Why, yes, ma’am, it is.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Oh, you weren’t aware of the move about a year ago.”
“Move? No.” I guess there was a significant portion of my father’s life that I didn’t know about, including his successes or failures. We’d talked twice on the phone since my move, although he’d left a few additional messages. I kept my face near the glass as the driver headed for the more upscale part of the city. The high-rent district. I couldn’t have been more shocked when he pulled the car in front of what had been my favorite building to visit as a child.
The entire street was always decorated to the nines for Christmas, this building in particular holding all the glorious reindeer and Santa’s sleigh. Every year my father took me here. The fact he had an office in the building was cathartic, filling me with additional regret. “Thank you.”
“Here’s my card. Just call me twenty minutes before you’re ready to leave. I’m at your disposal for the entire trip.”
He had such a twinkle in his eyes as he handed me his card. “Thank you, Bernard. You are a godsend.” Renting a car might be in order.
“And may I say, you are much more beautiful that the picture on your father’s desk, Ms. Markum. I’m so sorry about the loss of your father. He was a great man.”
The words were like a knife cutting into my very soul. “Thank you, Bernard.” I stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the building for at least five minutes before I was ready to venture inside. Finding my father’s office was on the top floor made me laugh. He hated heights of any kind.
“Ah, there you are.” The deep voice was kind, but certainly not what I’d call friendly.
“Mr. Rutherford?” The set of double glass doors depicted a new logo I’d never seen, but there was still only one name on the door. His name. The receptionist gave me a pleasant nod, but she was obviously having difficulty. I noticed a few open doors just off the main hallway and everyone I noticed was staring at me, their eyes drilling into me. What had they been told?
“Yes, but please call me William. We are going to be spending a good deal of time together, at least until the imminent sale goes through, so first names will be more pleasurable.”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean by imminent sale? I haven’t agreed to a single thing as of yet.” You bet I knew something was up by the flash in the man’s eyes. The instant was quick, but I’d seen the greed in his eyes.
“Let’s talk about this in the office. No need to bother the employees as they are trying to work.”
He grasped onto my elbow, trying his best to pull me in the direction he wanted me to go. I jerked away, holding out my hands. “Hold on here.” Now, the receptionist looked like she was going to pass out. “The employees aren’t going to be kept in the dark about anything.”
William took a step back. “This is simply something that we should talk about in private first, Lola. Whatever you want to do and whoever you want to talk with at a later point is entirely up to you. I’m just the man hired to keep everything in order and that’s
what I’ve done.”
If he was trying to make me feel any additional guilt, it wasn’t working, but I went along with his agenda anyway, just so I would know what I was dealing with. “The office will be fine.” I trailed behind him and into what had to be my father’s office. The room wasn’t large, not by the standards of a CEO running a company, but everything about the space was so very much him. From the dark furniture to the bookshelves lined with actual books, everything reeked of him.
Two sides of the office had floor-to-ceiling windows, another surprise and I walked toward them, peering out at the city. “Why did he move the office here?”
“Why? Because he was given an offer and additional space was needed.”
“Nothing else?” Perhaps I’d hoped that my father wanted to be close to me in some small way.
“Simply real estate, my dear. Now, here is the contract that you’re going to want to look over. The details are in the various pages. The price is very reasonable and there are certain concessions for some of the employees,” William chattered on.
I noticed his reflection in the glass, the pompous look, and remained quiet. I wanted to hear every goddamn detail.
“Then there is the matter of the will, which I have a copy of for you as well. As you might imagine, he left everything to you including his house and cars, and some jewelry I believe belonged to your mother. There are other items I am not privy to.”
“I understand.” Just saying the words created bile in my throat. I longed to have someone here to hold my hand, walk me through this. My father had been ready to sell the business before his death, but why? Because I hadn’t wanted to take this on? Because I hadn’t called him? This was all my father had ever wanted, besides his family. You bet something smelled and I was determined to find out what. “William. Thank you so much for your help. That will be all for now.”
“Lola, we need to go over the contract. The new owners are expecting for you to sign as early as tomorrow.”
I walked closer, making certain he saw the whites of my eyes. “I don’t give a damn what the possible purchaser wants. I will only sign if I feel it’s right. Now, you can go. I’ll call you if and when you’re needed.” I made certain I had a smile on my face as his turned beet red, befuddled from my direction.
“I’ll leave my card. Call me when you’re ready.”
I nodded, the smile remaining, half expecting him to argue. But he didn’t.
Then he left.
I waited, glaring down the hallway until he was no longer in the periphery of my vision before I closed the door. Then I began to shake. What in the hell was going on? My feet were heavy as I walked around my father’s desk, easing onto his chair, wondering when he’d sat here last.
I had no time to grieve at this point. That would come later. I needed to find out fast who my father had deemed acceptable to sell to and maybe even why. There had to be a reason.
I opened the file with the contract and the name of the rather determined purchaser seemed familiar, even though I couldn’t place the name at first. The contract terms were for shit. That was easy to tell from merely seeing the bottom line price. Bishop Enterprises believed they could buy my father’s company for a song.
After finding the assets page, the year’s end financials and last month’s income and expense statement, I knew the business was worth well over ten million dollars minimum and I hadn’t even seen the financials of the second site. The concept of selling for one third of that meant there was more to the story.
I spent hours looking, studying every scrap of paper, every financial report. There were no glaring red flags as to why my father would ever consider such a horrific deal. I was baffled. Groaning, I put my head into my hands, trying to abate the terrible headache. It was almost five and I was exhausted.
The single knock on the door was a reminder that everyone would be going home. “Yes?”
As the receptionist walked in, her expression and actions tentative, she tried to smile. She had a package in her hand. “This just came for you.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Martha. My name is Martha.” She still had the brown paper-wrapped package in her hands, her grip firm, even white knuckled.
“Thank you, Martha. Who is the package from?”
“It’s from...” She gulped air before walking closer.
“Take your time.”
She held out the package, looking everywhere but in my direction. “It’s from Mr. Markum. I mean, your father. I just... Well, here you go.”
I was stunned, the same guilt and sorrow rushing in. “Thank you, Martha.” She couldn’t have hurried out of the office any faster, half slamming the door on her way out. I was sick to my stomach as I held the box out, almost as if a bomb was inside. I wasn’t entirely certain I wanted to see the contents. “Here goes nothing.” The package had obviously arrived by messenger, which meant he’d given direction for a particular time for it to be delivered. Did my father have a premonition regarding his death?
The box under the copious amount of paper was plain white, no markings. When I carefully removed the lid, an envelope was on top, my name in my father’s handwriting. I laid it aside before peeling away the tissue paper. There were more files of the paper variety with a single disc.
I was sick to my stomach as I opened the letter, pushing away the tears that threatened to form in my eyes. When I read what he wrote, I was stunned. I sat back then glanced at the contract, my mind reeling. I hit the space bar on my father’s computer, thankful that I was able to get to the internet easily. I typed in Bishop Enterprises and read everything I could find. A cold chill filtered into every portion of my body as I began to understand.
How could this have happened? How could I not have known? “God, Daddy. What did you do?”
A plan was in order and one that would drive out the insanity of my father’s reason. I fingered William’s card before picking up the phone, dialing his number. He answered on the third ring. I didn’t give him time to object in any manner. I simply gave him an order.
“William. You’ve made a great deal of money off my father.” I figured why not throw out the gauntlet immediately.
“I beg your pardon?” William attempted to sound offended.
“I’ve checked through several of the records and you’ve made almost a hundred thousand dollars off my father in the last nine months alone. Now, given the amount of work that is noted on the books, I did the math. I’d say almost three thousand dollars an hour is hefty, don’t you?”
When he was very quiet, except for the heavy breathing, I knew the bastard had taken advantage of my father.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ I’m also going to venture a guess that if I sorted through the other few boxes, the various notes I’ve read regarding your rather corrupt business ethics, that I’d find some glaring red flags. My honest belief is that the Illinois State Bar Association might find your creative methods very interesting.” I wasn’t entirely certain where the bitchy vixen had come from. Perhaps I still wanted to wrap a blanket around my father, protect him from himself. Maybe this was early onset guilt, but whatever the case, no one was going to take advantage of my father again.
Including me.
“You’re threatening me, Miss Markum?” William asked through clenched teeth.
“Let’s just say I’m putting all the pieces together. So, here’s how it’s going to go. I’m going to need several days to digest the information. Please make certain the purchasers are aware, but you will not tell them I’m in town. Let them know I’ll be coming in a few days. In other words, push them off. I’m certain that you can find yet another creative manner in which to do so. I’ll contact you again when I’m ready. If I hear that you ignored my request in any manner, you will be fired, and I’ll make certain you will never work in this state again. I hope I’m making myself very clear.”
“Very.”
“Good.” I hung up the phone and
swallowed hard, the little girl in me wanting to curl up in a ball. The pissed-off woman inside ready for a fight.
I was also terrified. My father didn’t simply die of a heart attack.
He was murdered.
Chapter Three
Jagger
“What in the hell are you talking about?” Goddamn it, I was furious, seething to the point there were spots dancing in front of my eyes. I heard what Mr. Rutherford was saying to me, the callousness in which he’d said the words, but I hadn’t been prepared for the basic pushback. Not even after the death of Mr. Markum. Business was business in my world. Fuck the rest. When he hadn’t been able to reach me first thing in the morning, he’d had the audacity to call Montego.
“There are certain reasons, Mr. Bishop. I assure you that Ms. Markum will be coming into town the first of next week and we’ll be able to get the ball rolling again. She needs just a few days to adjust as well as to begin making arrangements. You can certainly understand her grief.”
“Her grief.” What should I care about grief? Life moved on. The voice inside my head attempted to remind me that I wasn’t king of the world. I stormed toward the window of my office, furious that everything had gotten so far off track. And yes, I felt somewhat guilty for the man’s death, even though I had nothing to do with his heart attack. What had I gotten myself into? I’d already heard enough rumblings. More power struggles. More leaks to the New York family. Confidence was failing, and I was to blame.
“Yes, Mr. Bishop. She is his only child and she lives out of state,” William continued. “She’s reeling from the information and trying to deal with her father’s estate.”
The same shitty attitude encompassed every syllable out of the man’s mouth. I willed the increasing anger to subside and rubbed my eyes as I squinted from the late afternoon sun. I didn’t trust this man with any regard. I understood he remained loyal to Richard Markum, and the only person I should be talking to at this point is Ms. Markum. She had the power to keep the deal alive. The news had pissed off Montego as well as the entire organization, but what the hell. Things had certainly been worse. “Fine. I’ll expect a call from you early next week.”
