The Deal (40 page)

He returned his stare to me.

“You don’t know about a tool chest?”

“No, I mean...yes...that’s not what I meant. Of course I know about the tool chest. It’s been down there my whole life.”

“You use it lately?”

“No.”

“Did your father?”

“I have no idea.”

“Interesting. Because like the weight set it is of top quality, and also missing a couple of vital elements. Such as a pair of pliers and a saw.”

My thoughts spun to Mattheau. His desire to dispose of the body and his hidden yet savage past. The more I wanted to now understand what he had done, the more afraid I knew I’d ever be to ask him.

“Detective, what does any of this have to do with my father being shot?”

“Probably nothing. Like I said, a complete understanding of the crime scene is standard procedure. It’s just that, judging from your father’s lifestyle, he doesn’t exactly strike me as the handyman type.”

I was nervous from the direction the conversation had taken. An inquiry of my own was all I could do to regain my footing and show the good detective he hadn’t rattled me.

“Detective, while I have you here, I actually have a question of my own.”

“Oh yeah,” he shot back, humoring me, “what’s that?”

“The cigar ash. The one that’s been discussed in the papers.”

“What about it?”

“Are you sure it was from Saturday morning?”

“We’re running tests to determine that.”

“Wouldn’t it have blown away? Or couldn’t it have come from somewhere else on that street?”

“At first you would assume either of those scenarios to be true, but that morning was so still our CSI team decided to check out the rest of the blacktop in front of the townhouse. Sure enough, not six feet from where the ash was found and your father’s chauffeur said the car sped off, was a small patch of the same ash embedded more firmly in the tar, probably at the point of contact where it originally fell from someone’s cigar.”

I was confused by Morante being so forthright, then figured he was trying to freak me with the department’s prowess in the area of scientific fact-finding.

“I see,” I said, trying to remain calm.

Fucking Murdoch. I knew it.

“Jonah, did your father ever smoke a cigar?”

I quickly saw my opening.

“He did.”

Here was my chance to lead the detective away from Murdoch so I could have him all to myself.

“In fact often, on summer weekends after returning from dinner, he would light one up and take a walk around the neighborhood. Maybe your crime lab could see if the ash found was from the kind of cigar he smoked.”

“What kind of cigar was that?”

“Monte Cristo #2.”

“How about you Jonah?”

“How about me what?”

“You ever smoke cigars?”

It felt as if someone had jammed a racquetball down my throat. I couldn’t lie. All he needed to do was ask one person familiar with me and I was screwed.

“I do.”

“Ever smoke Monte Cristo #2s?”

“Sometimes.”

We parted ways, me heading uptown and Morante looking to cross the street. Before I was twenty feet away the detective yelled to me.

“By the way, Jonah, I forgot.”

“What’s that?”

“I think you know a friend of mine. Spencer Simon.”

Just his name was enough to make me feel like a heavy-duty strap, the kind for securing an unruly mental patient to a gurney, was tightening around my chest. I didn’t respond.

“He told me to mention you’re in his thoughts. As are his hopes of a speedy resolution to all of this.”

Chapter 41

I stepped out of the elevator onto PCBL’s main floor in the Chrysler Center, a complete bat out of hell, albeit in mind more than body. Physically I was doing my best to remain alert, motivated, but not overly high-strung. My demeanor, my energy, was the opposite of what anyone I was going to encounter would expect. It was important I didn’t blow my cover. It was essential I didn’t appear hysterical by overcompensating. Inside, I was fucking bursting with anticipation. It was time to lift those up who deserved to be lifted. And it was time to swat those down who deserved to be crushed.

Cautious of being tracked, I felt I needed to pick my spots and keep moving. Everything that was about to occur had to happen expeditiously. I pushed my Bruno Maglis down the sophisticated hallway, the past two weeks chasing me, nipping at my heels. Poised, posture intact, I never looked over my shoulder. I simply moved forward wearing the mask of a strong man struggling to hold my chin up like a professional and return to my responsibilities. Truth be told, my grieving had happened in my apartment and en route to and from Baltimore. By this point I was insensate. I was nothing more than a thick, sharp, lethally pointed machine ready to bore into the eyes of those who had screwed me.

It was three
p.m.
when I entered the office following a quick shower in my apartment. I came in late because I wanted to keep my schedule fresh, my whereabouts unscripted. Unable to speak, touching the corner of her eye with a well-used Kleenex, Carolyn rose from her desk and wrapped her arms around me. I anticipated condolences and hugs that afternoon, so my pistol was in my briefcase that I was holding in my right hand.

“I’m so sorry, Jonah,” she said into my ear through a sniffle.

“I know you are, Carolyn.”

“Don’t worry for a second about tomorrow. I’ve taken care of everything.”

“I knew you would.”

Still hugging me, she put her face in front of mine.

“Do they have any idea who did this?”

I shook my head “no.”

“They don’t.”

She put her head back on my shoulder and gave me another squeeze.

“If there’s anything I can do, anything, just let me know. You name it.”

The serious tone made my jaw lock.

“I’m okay, Carolyn. How about you? Any of your numbers come in?” I asked, looking to break the tension.

A brief chuckle fought through her tears.

“Scratch off over the weekend, a thousand bucks,” she replied, humoring me.

We separated.

“Actually, Carolyn, I’m going to have to take you up on that offer sooner than you think.”

Carolyn, curious, took her seat.

“Whatever you need, Jonah. What’s up?”

Action.

I looked around. I crouched down, my knees bent to the point I was looking up at her. I placed my hand up on her desk for added balance.

“I need your help, Carolyn. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I don’t have the time to explain. I don’t know who else to turn to. It is definitely the most important thing I’ve ever asked of you.”

Carolyn shifted her eyes.

“Jonah, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

“Don’t be scared,” I said quietly. “I need you to keep your voice lower. Everything will be fine if you help me.”

Carolyn looked around, as if waiting for someone to pop out from under a desk to guide her. No one ever popped out, so it was time to lay it on. Years of gifts, astronomical bonuses, extra vacation for her efforts; all of this was about to benefit me in a way I had never planned.

“If you follow my instructions you won’t be in any danger. And you could end up saving my life.”

Carolyn’s eyes turned from scared to determined as loyalty began to overrun apprehension.

“From the person who killed your father?” she whispered.

That’s the fucking spirit, I thought.

“No time for questions,” I said back to her. “All I’m asking you to do is make some phone calls.”

“Phone calls?”

“That’s right. Simple phone calls. But they need to be made from phones untraceable to you. Random pay phones.”

Carolyn was silent. I could tell the mention of her having to maintain anonymity had her insides twisting.

“It would mean the world to me, Carolyn. And I promise to make it worth your while.”

Sensing my true need, Carolyn took the bait. Jumping in line with the program, she nodded her head ever so slightly “yes.”

“Here’s what I need you to do—”

Once Carolyn had her marching orders I headed down the hall. Perry’s and Jake’s offices were empty. I figured if they were in the office at all, they were in with Tommy.

I took two steps into Tommy’s office, closed the door behind me then just stood there. I put my briefcase down at my side. The three of them stared at me in complete disbelief.

“Jonah, where have you been?” asked Tommy.

“It doesn’t matter,” I answered.

“Are you all right?” followed Jake.

It was odd to hear Jake speaking in such a caring, earnest tone. It was so unnatural. I looked him deadpan in the face.

“I’m fine.”

“Jonah,” Tommy continued, “it’s understandable to take time for—”

I turned my eyes to Tommy.

“I mean it, Tommy. I’m all right. Anyway it doesn’t matter now. I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, Jonah?” he asked.

Easy does it, I thought to myself. Stop thinking out loud.

“Ready to take care of business.”

Without a word, Perry stood up and walked over to me. Like Carolyn, she wrapped her arms around me as she fought tears. Jake and Tommy then followed. Within seconds the four of us were in a group hug like a rock band ready to take the stage. For a few moments I closed my eyes and absorbed their love as I hugged them back.

“I appreciate it, guys,” I said. “Thank you.”

I meant it. I knew they must have had so many questions, concerns.

“We’re here, Jonah,” Perry said, her cheek still pressed against me. “Just know that we’re here.”

After a few more seconds, as we started to break apart, Perry grabbed my hand so tight I could almost feel our palm prints interlock like zipper teeth. I turned my eyes toward her. I mentioned earlier that one way to gauge two people’s closeness is through what they’re willing to say to one another. Right there, perhaps more than ever, I was able to put my finger on what made Perry so special. Her ability to speak to me without ever having to say a word.

We took our usual spots. The sunlight, hitting Tommy’s windows just right, filled the room. I took my jacket off and folded it over my knee as I sat back.

“Let’s talk about the deals,” I said. “What’s happening?”

Nothing. Just glances.

“What?”

“A couple of issues have come up,” Tommy said. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“What kind of issues? It’s only Monday afternoon,” I said. “What could have happened since we all closed up shop Friday night?”

Again, nothing.

“Asbestos,” Jake said.

Our eyes all moved toward him. Perry’s and Tommy’s eyes were surprised, mine were appreciative.

“Where?” I asked.

He looked at Perry and Tommy who both seemed annoyed he had bothered to burden me with any of this. He sucked in a breath as he thought about answering then blew them off.

“Two of the Slevin properties.”

“Six of the seven properties were built in the forties and fifties. We talked about this. You said you asked the two old birds straight out.”

“I did.”

“And they said we could expect to find a bit.”

“Traces, Jonah. They said we might come across traces.”

“Okay, traces.”

Then I got it.

“How much was there?”

“A lot more than we were expecting to—”

“Jake—”

“To the untrained eye, one might think they constructed the entire fucking building with it.”

I was speechless. But more from the fact I was most likely responsible for the three pits in their stomachs than the information. I knew the feeling of a career-altering deal taking a potentially dreadful turn as well as anyone. On top of that, they were dealing with real-life issues that they weren’t even aware of on top of business. Again, courtesy of me.

“Wow, that bad,” I said.

“That bad. Coldwall, the environmental consulting firm, hit these two buildings over the weekend. They were numbers five and six of the seven, which means there’s even one left to go,” Jake explained. “I got the call about it around seven this morning.”

“Is there any possibility of removing all of it?”

“What’s the difference?” he continued.

I knew there wasn’t one.

“There’s no way for us to have it handled the way the government tells us we have to in the time frame we’ve been dealt, and we can’t be telling our clients to close on buildings that are rife with asbestos. It kind of—”

“I think he gets it,” Tommy interjected.

I wanted to open them up to my suspicions, but I couldn’t. Until I knew more, I needed everything to remain the same. For their sake.

“It’s all right, Tommy,” I said. “Really. The way I see it, why hit the panic button when we don’t know all the facts? It’s not our job to know if and when the asbestos can be removed, it’s theirs. So tell them before they do anything else to give us a proposal for getting rid of it all as fast as possible.”

“Jonah, you know as well as anyone how expensive it will be to tackle something like this. And either way there’s minimal chance they’ll even be—” Jake went on.

Tommy cut him off.

“We’re having them look at it right now, Jonah. I happen to agree with you.”

“You said there were issues, plural. What else?”

“A little something with Cantrol,” Perry pushed out.

“How little?”

“Let’s just say that Gerry’s team came across something of interest.”

The strategy department of PCBL was comprised of different teams that evaluated potential deals. Gerry headed up our favorite group. Perry got to use them since they had the most experience with huge, trophy buildings.

“What kind of something?” I prodded. “A lease-related something?”

“Not exactly.”

She had hoped to leave it at that.

“Perry, then what?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, Jonah. Really.”

“Perry?”

She looked at the other two. She was trying to protect me, which I didn’t deserve, from thinking my precious deal was coming apart at a time I was so vulnerable. I felt like such a dick. I swore to myself again, right then and there, that I was going to make it up to them. I promised, on my mother’s grave.