Coming to Rosemont (9 page)

“We didn’t create this Recession. We’re not the
only ones got hit. Everybody in the market got hit. If it hadn’t ...” Delgado
broke off at the sound of a sharp series of knocks on the door downstairs.

“He’s here. Just shut up and let me do the
talking,” Delgado hissed as he buzzed Haynes in.

Haynes sprinted up the stairs without a trace of
fatigue. Both men stood as he entered the room. Delgado began. “We’re getting
this all worked out, Frank. Ron’s got a plan. It’ll just take some time.”

Haynes cut him off. “Time is what I’m afraid we
don’t have. You know that bitch Holmes held a meeting at the library and formed
a committee to investigate.”

“Bunch of brainless do-gooders, Frank,” Delgado
interrupted. “They won’t be able to trace this. Probably spend most of their
time talking about their kids and swapping recipes. Like my wife’s book club.
Women don’t focus on stuff like this.”

“You’re a moron—you’re both morons. They’ve
got that new woman in town on their committee. She’s a forensic accountant. And
they’ve got Alex Scanlon, too.”

“That prick?” Delgado exploded. I thought we were
done with him when he left the prosecutor’s office and set up his law firm.”

“Nope. He’s back,” Haynes assured them.

“No matter who’s on their committee,” Isaac
interjected, “they’ll have a hell of a time unraveling all of this. We’ll have
the money back in there shortly. And they won’t be able to trace it.”

“Yeah, Frank, relax. Leave this to us,” Delgado
added.

“I don’t think so, boys. Not this time,” Haynes
deliberately drew out what he came to tell them. “I went for a drive this
afternoon.” He paused to let their discomfort intensify.

“It’s the middle of the night here, Frank. What
did you see?”

“That janitor from the school was driving around this
afternoon, canvasing the centers. Watched a drug deal in front of the clothing
exchange. I’m sure he knew what he was looking at.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Frank. Is that all? Some
handyman driving around? He must’ve been looking for work.”

“Sitting in his truck watching the kids in front
of the exchange?”

“Probably talking on his cell phone.”

“He wasn’t on the phone. I followed him to two of
our other centers before I turned away. I didn’t want him to suspect he was
being followed.”

Isaac glanced nervously at Delgado. “Frank’s
right, Chuck. This can’t be a coincidence. They’re a lot closer to us than we
thought. You and Ron need to accelerate your plan to get us out of this.”

Delgado sat heavily into his desk chair. “All
right. We’ll do what needs to be done here. You don’t need to worry. I’m on
it.”

“Don’t screw this up any further, Chuck,” Haynes
replied. “We don’t want you doing anything stupid. We just need this to quietly
blow over.” Haynes nodded to Isaac and turned toward the stairs.

“Frank’s right,” Isaac said to Delgado before
snatching his jacket from the back of a chair. “This is bad.”

Delgado dismissed Isaac with a crude gesture and
picked up his cell phone. He scrolled to his brother’s number and texted,
Cousin
in hospital
—their code that they needed to meet immediately. He knew
that Ron was an early riser and would get the message as soon as he got up. No
sense going home for only a few hours. Besides, his wife was used to his
staying out all night.
Probably preferred it, the ungrateful broad.

He dozed fitfully on the familiar leather sofa in
his office and was startled awake when his office door creaked open and his
brother stepped across the threshold. He sat up groggily and rubbed a hand over
his balding scalp. “It’s still dark out. What time do you get up?”

“It’s five fifteen. I’m on my way to the gym. This
is my normal time. Lots of people are up and out this early. Maybe you’d like
to come with me sometime? Give it a try?” he said, staring pointedly at his
brother’s protruding paunch.

“I didn’t call you here for you to give me grief
because I’m fat,” Chuck retorted. “Haynes came to see me last night. That
committee formed by Tonya Holmes may be on to us.”

“What? No way. This is too complicated. The feds
would have trouble putting it together. How in the hell could a bunch of
witless citizens figure it out? He must be wrong.”

“Haynes tailed one of them, investigating our
centers. I think we take care of him. Send a message to the rest of them.”

“Hold on. If we need to send a message, we want to
make sure we have the right target. Who did Haynes follow?”

“Some school janitor who does handyman work on the
side.”

“He doesn’t sound like a threat. He can’t be the
brains of their committee. Who else is on it?”

“An old teacher, the vet, that new woman at
Rosemont—Haynes says she’s a forensic accountant. She could definitely be
trouble. And Alex Scanlon.”

“He’s your target. He’s got plenty of contacts at
the prosecutor’s office, and I’ll bet he’s still got political ambitions.”

 “Plus he’s a queer,” Chuck volunteered.

“Something to distract him. Take his attention
away from all of this. Nothing more. We don’t want to shine a bright light on
this. That would be the worst possible outcome. So rein your boys in.” Ron
Delgado held up a hand to silence his brother. “I don’t want to know any more
about it. Just do what you have to do. And don’t tell me about it.”

Chuck Delgado sneered at his brother. “You’ve
always been too good to get your hands dirty. Leave it to Chuck.
And now you
try to tell me how to do it?
Get the hell out of my office. I’ll handle
this.”

“Chuck. That’s not what I meant.”

“I mean it. Get out!” he yelled, slamming his fist
on his desk.

Ron Delgado abandoned any further attempt to
placate his brother and headed back to his car. If he really hustled, he
wouldn’t be more than a few minutes late for his appointment with his trainer.

Chapter 13

Maggie woke before dawn on Saturday
morning. She tore back the covers, excited to begin unpacking and settling into
Rosemont. The movers had delivered her things the afternoon before, four days
ahead of schedule. Sam arrived shortly before seven to finish painting her
kitchen. She fed Eve, grabbed her coffee, and decided to get her closet in
order. She was feeling excited and terrified, in equal measure, over the
prospect of her date with John. She had no idea what to wear and needed to root
through her things anyway.

By the time she finished, she had tried on half a
dozen sweaters and selected a sapphire-blue cashmere that showed off her eyes.
She relegated four sweaters to the donation bag, along with various slacks and
shirts that no longer fit or that she never wore. Cleaning house, improving her
feng shui, making room for new things, she told herself.

Maggie stood back and surveyed with satisfaction
the neatly arranged clothes and shoes. The matching hangers, shoeboxes, and
bins that she bought at the organizer store made everything look neat and tidy.
Rather like a picture from the store’s catalog,
she thought proudly. She
snapped a photo on her cell phone and sent it to Susan, who was a compulsive
organizer.
She’ll be very proud of me,
Maggie thought.

She stretched and checked the time and was shocked
to see that it was almost noon. The day was gloriously sunny with a hint of
spring in the air. She and Eve could use some exercise. She was also hungry,
and the kitchen was definitely off limits, so she snapped the leash on Eve, and
they headed toward Pete’s. She decided to take the long way there so she could
explore the other side of the town square. Eve trotted happily at her heels as
she passed a nail salon, a combination tailor and shoe repair shop, a
copy/fax/printer center, and a real estate office.

Maggie crossed the street and turned the corner.
The shops on this side of the square were more upscale and retail-oriented. On
the corner was a tiny old-fashioned candy store with ropes of colorful silk
flowers (a bit faded, but still pretty) framing a small window filled with
charming fabric-covered boxes of candy tied with large satin bows. The inside
was crowded with cases full of trays of chocolates: truffles and crèmes and
candies molded into shapes of rabbits, dogs, cats, frogs, and more. The
alluring aroma of chocolate seeped out onto the sidewalk.

A jeweler was next, flanked by a gift shop called
Celebrations with an inviting spring-themed window display of porcelain
rabbits, woven pastel baskets decorated with ribbons and flowers, and colorful
china and tableware. Maggie made a mental note to come back to explore the gift
shop. Maybe she would invite a group for Easter dinner, and do her dining room
table up with those porcelain rabbits running down the center. She slowly
walked away from the window, glancing back over her shoulder and contemplating
the possibilities for her Easter table.

Her mind was running through a guest list and menu
when she arrived at Pete’s. The shops had been busy and the sidewalks crowded,
and Pete’s was packed. Eve held court, graciously accepting pats and ear rubs
from other patrons while Maggie ordered a spinach salad with chicken to go.
While her order was being prepared, Maggie went through the doorway to Laura’s
and picked up a loaf of multi-grain bread and some strawberry croissants for
breakfast. Laura was quiet and distracted behind the counter, murmuring only a
brief hello to Maggie as she bagged her purchases and handed Maggie her change.

“Are you all right?” Maggie asked. She looked at
Laura closely and realized, with a bit of alarm, that she looked thinner than
before and very pale.

Laura looked from side to side and leaned in to
Maggie as she whispered, “You’re the only one who’s noticed. We weren’t going
to say anything just yet. I’m pregnant. Only seven weeks along. And sick as a
dog,” she confided.

“That’s wonderful!” Maggie cried, and then quickly
lowered her voice. “You poor thing. Hopefully, you’ll feel better at the end of
the first trimester.”

“That’s what I’m praying for. Working around food
is torture. But at least I have my morning sickness in the evening, which is a
good thing for a baker,” she added.

Maggie squeezed her hand, assured her she would
keep their secret, and went back to Pete’s to collect her lunch and head home.

***

At four o’clock on Saturday
afternoon, Alex and his partner Marc arrived at the service entrance of Pete’s
to set up for the evening’s performance. This would be Marc’s first gig since
the skiing accident when he broke his collarbone and right arm. He had worked
hard in physical therapy to regain his strength and flexibility. And he had
practiced incessantly to recover his timing and stamina.

“You’re here early,” Pete said as he hurried
across the restaurant to help them carry in the keyboard and sound equipment.
“You’re not on until eight o’clock.”

“I know,” Marc said. “I’m just nervous. Wanted to
test out the equipment before you get busy. Make sure I still know how to set
everything up.”

“He was pacing around the house and driving me
crazy,” Alex told Pete. “So I suggested we load up and come over here.”

“You’ll be fine,” Pete assured Marc. “Like riding
a bike. And everyone misses you. I’m expecting a full house. I’ve had a sign up
all week announcing that you’d be back tonight. People have been calling to confirm.
You were always one of my biggest draws,” he said as he patted Marc on the
back.

“That’s good to hear, I guess. I’m not sure if
I’ll live up to my reputation, though.”

“Of course you will. I’ve been listening to you at
home and you’re better than ever. A full house is exactly what you need,” Alex
said.

“And you should eat something because I know the
crowd is going to keep you going for a long time. Tonight’s special is good.
Let me bring it to you,” Pete said as he ushered Alex and Marc to seats at the
bar.

***

Maggie was finally ready at four
forty-five. She started at two, thinking she would have time to answer her
emails when she was dressed. Instead, she spent the entire time changing
outfits and tweaking her hair and makeup. Eve lay close at hand on the rug in
Maggie’s bedroom, head down on her outstretched paws, eyes focused intently on
her master. Maggie asked her opinion on various outfits, and Eve either raised
one eyebrow or cautiously wagged her tail.
She’s handling me like I handle
Susan,
Maggie thought.
Afraid to give an opinion in case she disapproves
of the outfit I like best. Intuitive creature.
In the end, Maggie settled
on the original sapphire-blue cashmere, a nicely cut pair of jeans, heeled
boots, and her leather jacket.

She headed downstairs and into the kitchen as Sam
was touching up a spot on the far wall. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “It looks absolutely
fabulous! Amazing what a fresh coat of paint will do. This color brings out the
warm tones of the cabinets. And you’ve done a terrific job.”

Sam carefully finished and turned to face Maggie.
“It’s my turn to say wow! You’re all dressed up and looking sharp. Are you
going out?”

Maggie blushed, then was furious with herself for
doing so. “Yes. And thank you. I’m having dinner with John Allen. But it’s not
a date or anything. Just a quick dinner. To discuss committee business.”

A smile spread across Sam’s face as she spoke.
“I’ve known John for more than forty years. He’s one of the finest men I’ve
ever met. If it was a date, I’d think that would be a really good thing for
both of you.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for all of that yet. Or
that I’ll ever be ready. I’ve got enough changes in my life right now,” she
said dismissively.

Sam held her eyes with his steady gaze. “So what’s
one more? Are you getting any younger? Why postpone something that might bring
you a lot of happiness. If God puts something good in your path, I say you
should grab it. Just stay open to the possibility, okay?”

Maggie nodded and murmured that she would, mostly
to shut him up and change the subject as she was becoming increasingly nervous
with all of this serious talk about dating. This was going to be dinner.
Period. She’d be home watching TV with Eve by nine thirty.