Maxine (33 page)

Cara walked in the door. “Ready to go?”

She wore navy slacks with a pale pink polo shirt, and she looked so good Nick wanted to kiss her right that minute. Instead, he said, “I’m ready.”

“I thought we’d drive ourselves this time,” she said. “Gerry brought my car down.”

“No,” said Nick. “We’ll take whatever car you want, but we’re taking a guard along. Lance is still out there somewhere and we’re not taking any chances with your life.”

She sighed. “Okay. Gerry, isn’t the court date for the divorce coming up soon?”

“Two weeks,” said Gerry. “It would have been over by now if Lance’s attorney hadn’t asked for a postponement.”

“Okay, guards for two more weeks,” said Cara.

“Like hell,” said Nick. “You’ll have a guard until they catch that bastard.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “Who says?”

“I do, that’s who. Call for your car and a guard and we’ll go.”

Cara glared at Nick, but she did as he asked. He knew how she felt about freedom, knew she didn’t like having guards hovering around her all the time, but for now, it was a necessity.

They took the Bentley, with the driver and a guard. First on the list was the hotel, a rundown four-story building. Nick looked it over from the car before he got out. “Why would Solomon buy this piece of shit?”

The guard said, “I read a newspaper article several months ago about this street. Some big developer was thinking of buying all the property along here and ripping everything out to build a convention center.”

“Oh, yeah? What happened?”

“Nothing. I guess he changed his mind.”

“Great,” muttered Nick. “Solomon paid more than twice what it’s worth. Nobody in their right mind would buy this place, not in this neighborhood.”

Cara nudged Nick. “Let’s look inside.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The desk clerk, a greasy man with a cigarette glued to his lower lip, eyed them with a look of contempt. Nick stared him down. “Do you have empty rooms?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Nick Donatelli and this is Cara Andrews, the owner. We want to look at some of the vacant rooms.”

“I thought Jasper Solomon owned the building.”

“The RASH Corporation owns the building. Cara owns the corporation, and I run it.” Nick slapped the counter. “Now hand over the damn keys.”

Without another word, the man put four keys on the counter.

Cara asked, “How many rooms?”

“Twenty-four, eight on each of the upper floors. There’s a couple offices on this floor.”

“What kind of offices?” asked Nick.

“Loans and such.”

“Yeah, right.” Probably illegal. “Do they pay rent?” The clerk shrugged, and Nick knew they didn’t.

“Tell them to close up shop and move on,” Cara told the clerk. “Today.”

“Any regulars, or does everybody rent by the day?” asked Nick.

“Six regulars, all working girls. Sometimes the mission rents a few rooms during the cold weather.”

Nick took the keys and turned to Cara. “Why don’t you wait in the car?”

“No way.”

“The elevator is out,” said the clerk. “You’ll have to use the stairs.”

“Figures,” Nick muttered as he pushed the stairwell door open.

The rooms looked worse than the lobby, and they smelled of mold and smoke and sex.

Cara said, “We could fix it up a little and use it for a homeless shelter, couldn’t we?”

“For adults, maybe. I sure as hell wouldn’t send families to this part of town, not with the porn shops and strip joints on this street. I suppose you could donate it to the mission down the street, but whatever you do, you’re going to lose a lot of money. Solomon was betting on the developer, and he lost the bet.”

“Can we sell it?”

“Not for half what you paid for it.” His eyebrows raised and his eyes twinkled. “We could turn it into a brothel. Put in red flocked wallpaper and—”

“Nick!” She punched his arm and laughed.

Nick looked up at the smoke alarm in the hallway. It hung open, the battery gone. “This place is a fire trap and the room rents aren’t enough to pay the upkeep. I say shut it down.”

“Okay. Can you send a crew in to repair the elevator and fix it up a little, so we can use it for a shelter?”

“Yeah, sure, but you don’t want to run it yourself. If you donate it to the Salvation Army or the mission, you could take it as a tax write-off.”

“Yes, we’ll do that, but I want it fixed up a little first. Replace the furniture, new flooring, paint, and whatever. It doesn’t have to be fancy, but this...” She kicked at the worn, filthy brown carpet. “This has to go.”

Nick always knew Cara had a big heart. Here she was, losing money already, but she wanted to make it nicer for the people who would stay here. It wasn’t much money to her, but he didn’t know anybody else, rich or not, who would go to this much trouble for a bunch of people she’d never met.

RASH would break even or gain a little on the apartments and on the office buildings, but not on this. And not on those white elephant condos.

“Nick, on the apartment complex, why don’t we save two or three of those apartments for temporary homeless shelters for families?”

“You’re not going to sell the apartments?”

“I think both of us have too much invested in those apartments to sell them.”

He gazed into her eyes and knew what she meant. It was an emotional investment, a project that meant something to them both, an experiment in helping people rise above the poverty level. Mary Margaret was already planning classes in parenting and basic adult education and job skills, and Cara planned to furnish the community rooms with toys and books. Nick gave her a hug and kiss before they walked down to the lobby. He loved her generous, compassionate spirit.

Nick tossed the room keys to the clerk. “This place is closed as of the end of next week. Everybody is to be out by next Friday.”

“All rooms are free until the hotel is closed,” said Cara. “And would you please replace the batteries in those smoke alarms upstairs?”

“The drunks and their cigarettes keep setting them off.”

“Tough,” said Nick. “Replace them today. This is now a no-smoking building. That includes you.” Nick started out the door and turned back. “Oh, if there’s anyone around who wants to work, have them here in the lobby at the end of next week. Friday morning. I want strong people who aren’t afraid of hard work. No drunks or junkies. Ten bucks an hour paid at the end of the day. Cash.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now all I have to do is find someone to fix the elevator and line up a couple trucks to haul the junk away,” he said to Cara on the way out the door. He’d need to buy tools and a few pairs of work gloves.

They sat in the car and Cara gave the driver the address of the blue house.

“The one we drove by before?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s the one. This time we’ll stop and go inside.... Maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Nick. “I don’t have a key to that place. The others had keys in the files, but not that one.”

As they pulled up and stopped on the steep street, Nick knew why there was no key in the file. A brief glance at the woman standing in the front window told him Cara’s guardians were living here. Holcomb probably told them they could live here until they found another place, but that was nearly eight weeks ago. What in the hell were they still doing here? Holcomb paid these people enough that they should have plenty of money put aside to support themselves.

He glanced at Cara. “Did you see her?”

“Yes, I saw. I still want to inspect the property, if they’ll let us in.”

“If they don’t, we’ll go buy an axe and break the damn door down.”

They walked up the crumbling concrete steps to the front door. As Nick raised his fist to knock, the door swung open and Ian Corinth stood there, glaring at them.

Nick said, “We’ve come to inspect our property.”

“
Your
property?”

Cara lifted her chin. “This property belongs to the RASH Corporation, and Nick runs the corporation.”

Nick propped his hands on his hips and stared at Ian. “So are you gonna let us in, or do I go buy an axe?”

Ian opened the door and walked into the house. Nick heard the back door slam and then Jane came into the room. “What do you want?”

“Why aren’t you paying rent?” asked Nick.

Ian crossed his arms. “Ron said he would supply a place for us to live, since Cara cut us off without retirement.”

Nick glanced at Cara, who was biting her lip so hard it must hurt, and turned back to Ian. “Ron doesn’t own the house and he had no right to promise you anything. I expect the prosecutor to file charges against him any day now.”

Jane’s mouth dropped open. “For
what
?”

“He and his friends set up a dummy corporation so they could steal from the estate,” said Cara. “This house is part of that corporation. If you want to buy it, I’ll sell it to you for fair market value. Otherwise, you’ll have to move so we can sell it and recoup some of the losses.”

“What do you care?” Jane said with a sneer. “You have more money than God.”

“You should have a little stash of your own,” said Nick. “Holcomb was paying you enough.”

“It’s invested,” said Ian. “We can’t touch it for another two years.”

As Nick looked around the room, he said, “I sure as hell hope you didn’t give it to Jasper Solomon. If you did, it’s long gone.”

Jane’s face turned so pale, Nick thought she’d pass out. And he knew they’d given their money to Ron’s friend. They’d lived in luxury in Cara’s house, and now they were going to experience the other side of life. The way they’d treated Cara, they didn’t deserve any better.

Without another word, Cara and Nick examined the house. Upstairs, he pointed to clothes and shaving gear in the back bedroom and bathroom. Someone else was staying here, but whoever it was, he wasn’t there at the time. Were they hiding Cara’s fugitive husband? If they were, they were even dumber than they looked.

Downstairs, Nick said, “Looks to me like the house just needs cosmetics—fresh paint, a new front door, new steps out front.” He motioned to Ian with his head. “Anything wrong here that you know of?”

“It’s disgusting,” said Jane. “The carpet is old and smelly and—”

Nick said, “I mean does the plumbing work? Furnace? Rodents or bugs?”

“Rodents?” Jane turned up her nose.

“You have two weeks to move out,” said Cara. “In two weeks, we’re sending a crew in to work on the house and then we’re putting it up for sale.” Without another word, she walked out the door.

“Leave your keys at the Andrews offices,” said Nick, as he followed Cara out the front door.

In the car, Cara said, “If those people had treated me better, I would have given them a house.”

“If they were renters, you’d have to go through the eviction process, but according to the records, they weren’t renting.”

Cara sighed. “I didn’t think of that. I’ll check with Gerry.”

<>

Lance sat in Jane’s car around the corner and angled the mirror so he could see Cara’s car. As soon as it pulled away from the curb, he ducked down where they couldn’t see him. When they were out of sight, Lance returned to the house to find Ian sputtering and Jane in tears.

“We have to move,” Jane said, sobbing. “We have no money and nowhere to go, but that rich little bitch is throwing us out again.”

He couldn’t figure out why they didn’t have money, since they’d been making a bundle while they lived at the estate. They had very little in the way of expenses when they lived with Cara, yet they claimed they didn’t have any money.
Strange.
But the only thing that mattered to Lance was that he’d have to leave. It was time to move on anyway.

While Jane was busy crying on Ian’s shoulder, Lance took a couple hundred from her purse. He needed it more than they did. According to the newspaper, the court date for the divorce was coming up soon, and he had to stop it. To do that, he had to go back to Washington and meet with his attorney. The attorney had gotten one extension and if he expected to be paid for his services, he could get another one.

Chapter Nineteen

A
l flew down to work with the new architect on the renovation plans for the apartments. It was his second trip to work on the project, and the architect was about to finalize the plans Al had given him. Crews were already at work on two of the four buildings, ripping out damaged walls and bad plumbing.

Nick hoped the apartment complex and the programs they put in place there would become a model community that other owners of low-cost apartments would want to emulate.