The Concrete Pearl (15 page)

“Trailer’s been lock-boxed by the cops,” I said. “How’m I gonna get in?”

“I’ll make the necessary calls soon as we leave here.”

I felt my body go from defeated to outright angry. Joel was changing his mind like some women change clothes. First he wanted me to make a presence at the school, then he wanted me to stay away. Now he wanted me at the school in order to empty out my files, present them to Santiago along with a dozen long stem roses. I hadn’t even been offered the chance to explain myself and my lawyer was all set to surrender.

“Shouldn’t it be Farrell striking up that deal, Joel?”

He sat up.

“Farrell’s gone. This is the real world and someone has got to answer and that someone is the general contractor in charge of Farrell.” Leaning into me, he continued. “Jesus Spike, read your goddamned contracts. That’s your Jane Hancock on those daily Indoor Air Quality worksheets. Farrell might not seem like a genius, but he knew what he was doing when he got you to sign off on them.”

Joel sat back hard.

I exhaled, said, “What do you think will result from your closed-door meeting with Santiago?”

“He assures me that if you cooperate fully with his office and with the discovery of all documentation, it’s possible you’ll face only fines…At the discretion of the court of course.”

“And if it’s proven the child is sick because of the PS 20 asbestos contamination?”

“That’s an entirely different ball of bees wax. It would also be out of my jurisdiction as a construction lawyer. It would mean hiring a criminal defense attorney.”

I had nothing to say. Even if I opened my mouth and tried to speak, I knew nothing would come out.

Joel leaned forward again.

“Listen Spike,” he said, “don’t think about that right now. Just concentrate on the negligent asbestos removal problem. Large fines on top of the ones you’ve already been nailed with could mean Harrison Construction will finally go under. But at least you just might avoid a criminal prosecution.”

“Jeeze, now I feel warm and cozy.”

“You’ve made some bad decisions and now you have to pay for them. At least Santiago is willing to work with you.”

I felt like crying. The tears actually built up behind my eyeballs. But somehow, I would not give Joel the satisfaction of big tears falling.

I inhaled deeply, exhaled a calming breath.

“When is Santiago going to announce his indictments?” I said.

“Like I said, I meet with him and the project principals this afternoon at the jobsite. Grand jury will meet first thing in morning. They’ll present the specific indictments to the court. They may summon you to be present at the hearing.”

I nodded and took one last sip of the coffee. It was cold now, like the fluid that filled my spine.

I slid out of the booth.

Joel stayed put, his thick hands still wrapped around the coffee mug.

“I’m really sorry about all this, Spike. I really am. And I know how your dad would feel about the whole thing. But the circumstances of the matter are not in your favor.”

“Just answer me one more question,” I said. “Who did the Albany School Board approach to takeover PS 20?”

“Marino Construction,” Joel said. “Why?”

The muscles in my neck tensed up.

“Farrell’s father-in-law,” I said. “Nice touch. Christ, Joel, Marino Construction and A-1 Environmental Solutions are located right next door to one another.”

“I know how it looks, Spike. But the school board’s decision is out of my hands.”

Joel smiled. Why, I had no idea.

“I trust I’ll see you this afternoon with the paperwork?” he posed. “And don’t forget to bring me that stuff you collected up at that stream…the shell casing.”

I recalled the physical evidence hidden inside my desk drawer—physical evidence that could very well be tied to Farrell’s disappearance. Joel wanted to get his hands on it. Suddenly, that was the last thing I wanted.

“I’m glad you’re finally making the right decisions,” he went on. “I thought you might choose to fight the indictments; not cooperate…You and that hard head of yours.”

He was still smiling.

The pigheaded lady wasn’t.

“Who said I was giving in?” I said.

“What’s that mean?” he said.

“Tough girls don’t go down easy,” I winked before turning my back on him, and walked out of the diner.

Chapter 32

Outside I punched in the number for Marino on my mobile.

He answered.

“Marino Construction.”

“I’d appreciate an explanation, Mr. Marino,” I barked. “Farrell’s disappearance; his whereabouts; your ignoring me; your involvement in all this. And since when is a workaholic contractor so interested in fly fishing?”

“Meet me at the port in ten minutes and I tell you what I know.”

“Why should I meet with you just because now you’re good and ready?”

“Because you don’t have much of a choice, young lady.”

“I’m not so young anymore, Marino.”

“We’re starting the demo on the old port warehouses, make way for the convention center.”

“Thought the common council was still stalling on their approval?”

“Let’s just say I’m burning with optimism’s flame…Ten minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll play it your way. But I need answers.”

“There’s a big tanker getting loaded up…Big old rusty thing with river water streaming out the bilge pumps. Just like you see in the old Bogie movies. I’ll meet you at the stern…That’s her ass end.”

“I’m pretty familiar with one of those.”

“I’ll look out for you.”

Chapter 33

Marino was in his mid-sixties. One of those construction lifers like my dad who lived the business twenty-four-seven, wished it was physically possible to do everything by himself (from project layout to project closeout), and who would retire only when his casket was nailed shut, the grave filled in and compacted with two yards of raw earth. 

According to project specs of course.

Dressed way-too-casual in alligator loafers, loose slacks and a purple oxford, he stood a couple of inches taller than me. He was heavy in the middle and out of shape, his face clean shaven but pale, pug nose mapped with red and purple veins. In his hand he held the chain and leather leash that attached itself to the meaty neck of his pride and joy—a white and black-eyed pit bull he’d christened, Sonny, in honor of the character in the
Godfather
. Or so legend had it. Sonny was looking up at me, showing me his fangs, making little half-hearted lunges against the chain leash. I got the feeling the little monster was praying for a chance to wrap his jaws around my neck. 

As promised, the dark haired, unibrowed Marino stood along with his killer pooch at the stern end of a docked cargo merchant ship. Behind us, a crew of leather-skinned construction workers were busy tearing down one corner of a long, metal-sided warehouse. In the air was the fishy-gamey smell of the river combined with the oil and gas vapors that escaped the ship’s idling engines.

He held out his free hand.

I wasn’t sure what to do with it. But I knew that to refuse it would not be a good idea. I took the big callused hand in mine. He squeezed it gently and held onto it. It was like touching the claw of a giant lizard.

“I want to apologize for way I spoke with you over the phone last evening,” he said in a deep staccato voice, his hand still holding, if not caressing mine. “As you can only imagine, my daughter has been under considerable stress lately. Naturally, when she’s stressed, so am I.” Finally letting my hand slide away from his, he continued, “I can bet your dad…God rest his soul…knew the feeling all too well.”

Marino was a master at speaking part savvy businessman and part tough-guy contractor. Not a bad attribute in this business. When he smiled he revealed a mouthful of newly bleached teeth.

“I knew your dad well,” he said. “He taught me many things about our business. Many things that I shall never forget.” Raising his right hand, he pressed his sausage-thick index finger to his lips, as if it helped him to think. “Despite those things, there is one rule he insisted upon above all others…Do you know what that rule might be, Spike?”

I shook my head hoping the sermon wouldn’t take long.

He said, “Trust no one, but make damn certain everybody trusts you.”

“Dad’s version of ‘Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.’”

“Precisely,” Marino laughed.

Sonny snarled and barked.

I took a step back.

Over Marino’s shoulder, a large piece of metal siding came crashing down to the dock. The noise startled me.

“Farrell,” I said, growing impatient. “Where is he? Where’s my money? The school’s money?”

The contractor raised up both hands, his big palms facing me like he was trying to tell me to hold my horses.

“This business with my son-in-law has not been easy on my family,” he said. “At first I placed my trust in James. I trusted him because my daughter was in love with him and he seemed like such a clever, successful young environmental solutions executive.”

That was a first. Someone referring to Farrell as clever.

“I even went out of my way to see that he was introduced to the right developers, architects and engineers. I personally carted him to Albany Development when they started talking about a redevelopment for the Concrete Pearl and the waterfront—when they initiated talks about the issuance of bonds. That was nine years ago, back when the project seemed like a five-hundred million dollar pipe dream. But now that it’s looking more like reality, James is nowhere to be found.” Raising up his hands, bringing them back down fast, slapping meaty sides. “I did everything a good father-in-law can do to help his daughter’s husband attain professional prosperity and still keep my head above the law.”

“No pay-offs or collusion in other words,” I interjected. But in my head I replayed the video of Farrell lovingly kissing Natalie, the father-in-law recording the moment for posterity.

“Naturally,” Marino said.

“But Jimmy betrayed your trust, didn’t he?”

He bit down on his bottom lip.

“It was worse than that, young lady. I betrayed myself. I broke my own first rule. The rule your dad went out of his way to teach me.”

“Jimmy began to fuck the dog,” I said, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up at attention.

“Let’s just say…for the sake of argument…that James cut corners to maximize profits. Because who’s ever really going to know if the asbestos in any given building has been properly removed or wrapped?”

“Authorities like OSHA and the EPA test for proper interior air quality,” I said.  “The independents like Analytical Labs test for it too.”

I thought about yesterday’s visit to the storage garage just a couple hundred yards up from the warehouse Marino was tearing down.

“But why test again and again when initial tests proved satisfactory?”

My built-in-shit detector went off in my head again. It told me Marino knew full well his son-in-law was cheating on asbestos removal projects. Maybe cheating for years.

“Where’s Jimmy’s hiding?”

He shook his head.

“Where is he, Peter? I’ve got to know!”

“My dear, Spike,” he said, “calm yourself down. Don’t you think that if I knew where he was I would be there myself, personally dragging him back to his wife and responsibilities?”

“I know for certain you two argued on Saturday…When he moved out of his offices. What were you fighting about?”

He stared into me.

“Yes, we had some words, however brief.”

“Must have been loud too.”

Sonny barked, lunged at my ankles as if he didn’t like my attitude. If it wasn’t for Peter holding him back, the little monster would have impaled his teeth into my leg.

“What did you talk about, Peter?”

“About his hasty decision to get out of the environmental solutions business.” Marino tossed his free hand in the air. “It’s bad business to leave a client hanging…Client’s whose contracts have yet to be fulfilled.”

“Yeah, it’s called extortion,” I said. “There’re only two reasons why a business owner like Jimmy will shut down in the middle of a job. The first is he’s broke. And the second is he’s running away from someone or something he’s scared of.”

Sonny growled.

Marino said, “I tried my best to talk him out of it…Tried to impress upon him the legal ramifications of what he was about to do…But you know James and his…”

He let the thought trail off while he gazed out on the river and the massive docked ship.

“His what?” I pressed.

His attention back on me.

“Well let’s just say that the handsome James is like a beautifully constructed mansion with all the lights on, but there’s no one home…Ever.”

“Yeah, the golden boy is a dud…I get that. So if he willingly left by his own accord, where the hell did he go and why did he do it?”

“If only I knew.”

“Who’s Natalie?” I said.

He tossed me this wide-eyed look of shock and awe, followed by a grin.

“A common…bar…whore,” he said.

“Why’d you videotape Jimmy kissing her? I’m sure Tina wouldn’t like it.”

He slowly nodded, looked into me instead of at me, like he couldn’t imagine how it was possible that I’d gotten my callused hands on that video.

“Last year’s Christmas party…We were innocently drunk…Father and son-in-law bonding kind of thing…Better times for us and our businesses back then.”

“That what you call cheating on your daughter?”

“I wasn’t aware of anything more than a kiss,” he said.

“What about employees?” I said, deciding then and there to drop it. “Maybe they’d know what rock Jimmy slithered under.”

Another shake of the head.

“The three or four employees he required at any one time would be set up in another town by now, working on another job.”

“What’d you do, Peter? Pay them off to keep quiet, leave town?”

Sonny lunged again.

“Sonny heel!” Peter shouted. Then smiling at me, he said. “I’ll let that little comment slide. Temporary help was the best policy for my son-in-law in terms of maintaining a profitable business. It was my idea to begin with.”