A Grand Plan Page 16
Her gaze shifted from Ari to Molly and she said, “Okay, I’ve heard stories. He overspent and he didn’t listen to us.”
“To you?” Molly asked.
“I was part of an original group of students he brought in before the property was built to give him advice about what students wanted and needed and how much they’d pay. He took us out for this fancy brunch at the Clarendon Hotel and took notes and seemed to really value our opinion. But if you look around you can tell he didn’t listen to us. College students don’t care if the counters are granite or if the beds are Tempur-Pedic, at least not most college students. What we want is a deal.”
“So why didn’t he follow your advice?” Molly asked.
“Because he doesn’t really want college students living here. They’re just an unpleasant byproduct of the area. What he wants are single people with great incomes, but they aren’t interested. Now he’s got a building that’s only half full and rentals have completely stalled.” She looked at Ari and said, “You asked about LGA. He blames LGA for the stall. I heard him talking on his cell phone a few weeks ago. I think it might’ve been with that Allen guy. He said Lower Grand was sucking away his profit margin. He’s worried about all the attention to LGA. Did you know there’s talk of an apartment building on LGA?”
“Really?” Ari asked, completely surprised. “I hadn’t heard that.”
“It’s true,” Lupe said, returning to sales mode. “Now, shall we go downstairs and sign a contract?”
Ari and Molly laughed.
Chapter Fifteen
When Ari’s cell phone chimed at seven thirty on Friday morning, she knew it was her father and let it go to voice mail. She could almost predict the message he would leave on the anniversary of her brother’s death. He was thinking of her. If she needed to talk, she could call any time.
She didn’t want to talk to her father, but she needed to talk with Lorraine regarding her conflicted feelings about Grand Avenue, which was why they were meeting for breakfast. Ari had chosen the Clarendon Hotel based on something Lupe the leasing agent at the Roosevelt Apartments had said. Sebastian King took us to the Clarendon for brunch. She’d learned that businessmen were often creatures of habit.
“Has Mr. King come in yet today?” she asked the hostess who was seating her.
“Not yet,” she said. She suddenly looked flustered as she realized she’d divulged too much. She seated her in the middle of the room and quickly disappeared.
Ari checked her watch. She was deliberately thirty minutes early for her breakfast with Lorraine. Maybe he would show up while she was there.
“Hola, chica,” her boss said a few minutes later. Like Ari, she was typically early. She sashayed across the dining room, her hips swinging to a distracting degree. Jane had pleaded with her to give lesbianism a try and she always laughed and kissed her on the cheek, which only made Jane try harder.
Lorraine looked around and said, “This is nice. I’ve never been here.” She slid onto the plush chair and perched her chin on her folded hands. “I’m surprised you wanted to come here today. May I just say that I’m sorry about your brother, and I won’t say anything more.”
“Thank you,” Ari said. “That’s actually part of why I wanted to talk with you. Richie was murdered on Grand Avenue.”
Lorraine’s jaw dropped and she nearly spilled the coffee that had just arrived. “Oh, my. Ari, I had no idea. No wonder you didn’t seem thrilled about moving to LGA.”
Ari noticed she didn’t offer to cancel the deal, and maybe that was for the best. Maybe I’m the one who needs to move on. “I think the building’s great. Still I have to ask. Do you really think LGA is going to make it?”
“Yes,” she said with a convincing look of determination. “Phoenix is ready for two art communities and RoRo will learn to share whether they like it or not. By positioning our company in LGA we’ll greatly increase the amount of commercial business we do, and I predict the neighborhood west of LGA will be the next residential hot spot.”
She remembered Lupe’s comment from the day before. “Do you think someone’s going to build apartments on LGA?”
Lorraine adopted a mysterious smile. “It’s in the wind.”
She stirred her coffee and asked, “What do you think of the Scrabble property? Not for Southwest Realty, but just in general, as an investment.”
When she looked up, she knew Lorraine’s mind was churning. Her eyes had turned to slits and she’d pursed her lips. “I see it. It’s unique and we’d need a hook, a really good one.”
“We? I didn’t think you’d be interested in Scrabble.”
Her lips turned upward. “I could be convinced, chica. We’re partners, right?”
She relaxed and her insides unknotted. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been dreading this conversation. “Then I say, let’s do it.”
Lorraine let out a little squeal and clapped her hands. For the next half hour they enjoyed their omelets, catching up on current business and strategizing about potential clients. After the plates had been taken away, Lorraine asked, “You’re really okay with pressing forward on the new location? I don’t want to ask you to do something you can’t do.”
“I am,” she said with confidence. Perhaps she didn’t feel quite as assured as she led her to believe, but she’d get there.
“Okay, I’m off to a meeting. Do you want to walk out together?”
She gestured to her half-filled coffee cup. “I’m going to finish my coffee and check some emails.”
She’d planned to wait thirty more minutes but it only took fifteen before Sebastian King rushed through the door, bypassing the hostess who was talking to a pair of tourists. He headed to a table near the window and pulled out his phone. The busboy immediately brought him black coffee and ice water but not a menu. She’d already decided how she would play this, and before she approached his table she unbuttoned the button just above her cleavage.
“Excuse me, but are you Sebastian King?” she asked in her best star-struck voice. She offered a broad smile and let her hip graze the side of the table, offering him an eye-level view of her ass.
He looked up and set his phone on the table. “I am, and who are you?” He had a chiseled face that she imagined looked good on his signs and a body that suggested he’d played football.
“I’m Renee Montgomery. I work for Arizona Home Realty.” She stuck out her hand but he didn’t take it.
“Where’s your card?”
She looked panic-stricken and bit her lip. “I left them in the car. Shoot. I keep forgetting to put them in my purse. That’s bad, isn’t it?” She hoped she sounded naïve but not stupid.
“Please, sit down.” She did and the busboy instantly appeared and he waved him away, asserting his power. If she had any desire for water or coffee, it would only be fulfilled when he said so. He tented his fingers on the table, displaying his manicure and wedding ring prominently. “Now, Renee, you should always keep your card at the ready. It defines you. Do you have your picture on your card?”
“Um, no, that was really expensive. I just got the basic style the company offered.”
“That’s a mistake you should correct today while you’re wearing that stunning silk blouse. You should leave this restaurant and go directly to this photographer. His name is Dirk.” He withdrew a pen and one of his own cards from inside his jacket and wrote down Dirk’s name and phone number from memory on the back.
When he slid the card across the table, her eyes widened as if she’d just received the lottery numbers. “Thank you so much for the advice, Mr. King.” She turned it over and scanned his contact information. In addition to King Investments he’d also listed the TRIO group. “What’s TRIO? Is that a new company?”
His phone buzzed and he read the text message. “Just a side company,” he said absently. “A few friends and I trying to save the world.”
“So it’s like for nonprofit deals?”
He offered a condescending smile.
“You could say that. There’s a lot of opportunity in the downtown area.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about the downtown. I work exclusively in upscale Chandler properties. But I saw pictures of the Roosevelt Apartments. That looks like a great place.”
“It is. It’s the final phase in the revitalization of Roosevelt Row.” He dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin and cut into the waffle that had appeared in front of him. “Are you familiar with the area?”
She shrugged and said, “Only a little. I’ve read more about LGA.”
“Oh, don’t bother,” he scoffed. “That place is on the way out. Just because the mayors are revitalizing all of Grand Avenue doesn’t mean LGA will become anything.” He pointed his fork at her. “Because I care about you, Renee, I’m going to give you a tip. If you know of anyone thinking of investing in LGA, tell them it’s a bad deal. They’ll lose everything. I’m sure of it.”
She leaned forward and whispered, “How do you know that?”
“TRIO,” he replied. His phone buzzed again and he glanced at the display.
“It makes sense,” she said. “I heard there was a woman murdered down there.”
“Yes,” he said. “She was bludgeoned to death with a rock.”
“I hadn’t heard that part. Was that in the news?”
“No,” he said, spearing another piece of waffle. “I just have my ways of knowing things.” He looked up with a smile. “For example, as we sit here enjoying each other’s company, someone is being arrested for the murder.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Oh, wow.” She stood. It was clear he had no intention of divulging too much. “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you for the chat and the advice about the business card.”
He stood and took her hand. “There is a way you can repay me, Renee. After all, time is money, and in the few minutes we were together, I calculate that our little visit cost me roughly two thousand dollars.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she babbled.
“Don’t be. It was well worth the loss. But you could repay me. When you visit Dirk to get your new picture, you could take a few extra candid shots. Just for me. Clothing optional.”
She politely said goodbye, too stunned to say anything witty. When she’d reached the comfort of the sidewalk, she called Molly. “I’ve found the killer.”
“What?” she exclaimed.
“At least I’m hoping Sebastian King is the killer. Nothing would make me happier than to see his slimy self in handcuffs.”
“He’ll have to get in line,” she replied. “Andre just called me. They’ve arrested Chynna Grove.”
Chapter Sixteen
Molly knew it couldn’t be good if she was summoned to Lev Rosenthal’s office on a Friday at five p.m. The receptionist’s last duty before leaving for the weekend was to show Molly to Margaret’s desk. Of course Margaret, ever the dutiful assistant, was busy typing away on her computer with no sign of starting her weekend any time soon. Apparently she was the den mother, and before she took official notice of Molly she quizzed the receptionist about the remedies she was using for the nasty summer cold that was going around the office. She pulled some vitamins from her purse and although the much younger woman protested, she took them with her and told Margaret she was the best.
The smile on her face remained as she turned to Molly. “The younger generation just doesn’t know how to take care of themselves.” She put away her purse, obviously prepared to stay longer. “He’s on the phone with the council.” Her expression conveyed sympathy for Molly. “Can I get you some coffee or water?”
She said no and sat on the edge of the couch, her hands clasped together as if praying. She wasn’t sure what to think. Ari was adamant that Chynna wasn’t the killer but Molly wasn’t sure. Chynna had been at the murder site, which meant she had opportunity, and she could’ve easily disguised her shoe size with enough preparation. Molly had managed to have a brief conversation with Andre, who’d summarized the arrest warrant and report.
“I can’t tell you much, Mol,” he said, “except they found the murder weapon on the Scrabble property. It was part of a cairn in front of the red cottage. Each cottage had a cairn painted the same color.”
“Let me guess,” she’d said. “An anonymous tip led the police to her?”
“You got it. They found traces of blood on one of the painted rocks. The blood and the paint match the samples taken from Ms. Wonders’s skull. They went to the auto parts store where Chynna works and picked her up. As they were taking her to the car she admitted to throwing the rock into Brown’s Diner but denied killing anyone. Apparently she’s sticking to that story.”
“Andre, I’m not sure she did it, and Ari is completely convinced she’s innocent. We think this is much bigger than one failed business. The rock part makes sense to me but I’m not sure she’s capable of murder.”
“I get that, Mol, but Ari saw her across the street, watching. She certainly had the opportunity. She says she’d just arrived when Ari saw her and was curious about the cop car out front. They’re checking that part out.”
He’d promised to keep her updated and thirty minutes later she’d been summoned to meet with Rosenthal.
She exhaled deeply and leaned back on the couch. Chynna Grove was in serious trouble.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything, dear?” Margaret peered over her spectacles, a kind smile on her face. “I might have something a little stronger,” she whispered.
“No, but thank you.” A thought occurred to her. “Margaret, may I ask you a few questions? You seem to know so much about everything that happens around here.”
She sat up straighter and lowered her pencil. “Of course, dear, how can I help?”
She joined Margaret at her desk. “I know you take the council’s meeting minutes. So what do you make of everything that’s happening between RoRo and LGA?”
“Actually, I take the minutes but I also transcribe the audio recordings.”
“The meetings are recorded?”
“They are,” she said, nodding. “Mr. Rosenthal is extremely conscientious and insists all meetings have notes and action steps. It’s my job to create the notes and ensure that the council members are following up with the tasks they’re assigned.”
“Do they always follow up with what they’re supposed to do?”
She offered a knowing smile. “That’s confidential. But in answer to your question, I think what we’re seeing between RoRo and LGA are growing pains. The people who support the Row are concerned about change. LGA is worried it won’t be successful. People are passionate about their opinions.”
Molly asked baldly, “Do you think anyone on the council is capable of murder?”
“Absolutely not.” She paused and said, “Well, perhaps I shouldn’t say that. I suppose anybody who feels caged would lash out, so under the right set of circumstances I imagine anyone is capable of anything.”
As a cop she’d heard this logic before so she asked the obvious next question. “Do you think anyone on the council was facing such a set of circumstances where he or she might feel like a caged animal?”
She glanced at Lev’s closed door and leaned forward. “I know Sebastian is going through a terrible time right now because the Roosevelt Apartments are not doing well, but I doubt that would ever lead to murder.” She opened her mouth to say something else, but then thought better of it.
Molly said with a smile, “I’ll let you get back to work.”
She returned to the couch. She noticed copies of the quarterly report for the Rosenthal Group on the coffee table. She thumbed through the first few pages of graphs depicting the profitability of the company. She wasn’t an analyst and would never bother to pore over the fine print, but the company had clearly endured some difficult times and was still recovering. The report turned more personal as different executives and events were spotlighted, and at the back of the report was a gallery of pictures from the spring picnic.
Yet it made sense. He’d worked in the mailroom, so he probably saw Lev on his rounds. She imagined someone like Lev would want to mentor someone like Drew.
“Margaret, do you know Drew Sachs?”
She looked up from her report. “Who, dear?”
“Drew Sachs. He used to work in your mailroom?” She pointed to the picture of him in the report.
She squinted, and when she couldn’t see the picture across the room, she withdrew a copy of her own report from a cherry wood cubby and turned to the last page. “Ah, yes. Left us a few months ago. A nice boy. He’d been in the military and was actually discharged to take care of his mother.”
“I didn’t know they let people out for those kind of reasons.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Mr. Rosenthal took a shine to him. As I recall, it was your associate who recommended him, wasn’t it?” she asked, referring to Yoli.
“Yes, I’d forgotten that.”
She and Yoli had only talked once about it, but somehow Drew had discovered the mailroom job at the Rosenthal Group, so Molly mentioned him to Lorraine who in turn told Lev.
Margaret’s phone buzzed and she looked at Molly. “You can go in now.”
Rosenthal’s office afforded him a view of the entire southeast valley. His desk faced the mountains but he motioned for Molly to sit at the small racetrack conference table next to his desk. Today his hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he wore an open-collared shirt and khakis.