Chapter 22

Christopher

By the time Steve showed up for work, I was already halfway through my preparations for his lynching. I could tell by his distancing himself from me that he knew something was up. He’d probably not even have come in if he hadn’t had to get to his office, and to the computer with the two-faced bookkeeping.

I let him have his space, at least for the time being. I was working with the accountant, putting together the numbers for the Carolina’s Emporium and Tea Room franchise. I’d made my decision. That business no longer held any appeal to me. It was tainted by Steve, by Corey’s betrayal and now by the longing I felt for Lillie while knowing that I couldn’t continue with the previous plans while she was planning her own resurrection. She was too important to me.

I was selling it, and I already had buyers bidding to get it. It was still very hush-hush; I had to keep Steve out of it until I was in the right position. He didn’t suspect anything was up since the accountant being in my office at the beginning of the new year was a totally expected sight. No one knew, except Willard, Sean and myself. Even my accountant thought it was business as usual.

I watched the clock. At just after eleven-thirty, I casually strolled down the hallway toward Steve’s office. His back was to the door and he was in a heated discussion with someone. He didn’t hear my tap.

“I don’t care, I want him out of town, you hear me? It’s too hot right now. In fact, that’s a good idea. Send him down to the Keys, to Mickey. Tell Mickey I sent him and to keep him busy until things cool down around here. You got that?” He slapped his phone down onto his desk as he swiveled in the chair, his head snapping up as he caught sight of me. His face morphed instantly. Damn, but he was good.

“Well, look who’s here. How was Paris, Chris?” He got up and came around his desk, holding his hand out to shake. I shook it, acting as though nothing was wrong. Two could play that game.

“Fine, fine… beautiful, really. Always enjoy the holidays in the old country. Listen, Steve, I’m onto a deal and I need you to join me at lunch with a guy. It’s something I ran across while you were in the islands.” I pretended he’d been out of town and I could see in his eyes that he was on alert. He had spies everywhere and I had no idea what he’d heard. “In fact, we’ll be late if we don’t get going. Grab your coat, I’ll drive.”

I could tell he wanted to beg off. He was searching for some last-minute excuse but I didn’t give him a chance. I’d already started down the hallway to the exit. He had no choice but to follow me.

As soon as he climbed into my car, I started with the small talk. Described the hotel in Paris and the food. I talked about Marga’s first flight and how she’d lit up at the cart full of pastries. “Came back with lots of good ideas,” I rambled on. “Let me tell you about this chocolate cake I had. I got the recipe by bribing the chef. It has turmeric in it, can you imagine? You can’t taste it, at least not enough to identify, but it adds a quality that’s hard to describe. I’ve already sent it down to the test kitchen and they should be bringing up some samples this afternoon. I can’t wait for you to try it.”

I knew I was boring him to death. He was fidgety, wanting the conversation to end and to have a cigarette. I was enjoying the torture and didn’t let up. I kept talking all the way into Danny’s Pub, where I lead him to the back booth where our lunch date was already waiting.

Corey was sullenly leaning back in the booth corner, but straightened immediately when he saw who I’d brought. The tension was thick as the waitress came and I ordered steak salads and iced tea all the way around. I was enjoying the torture more and more. Steve was strictly a corned beef on rye with a whiskey kind of guy.

Corey’s eyes were on me, looking for some clue as to how to react. Steve was stiff and chose not to even remove his coat. I gestured for him to slide into the booth ahead of me, essentially cutting off his escape route. I continued with the inane small talk until our meals were delivered.

“Well!” I began, biting some salad from my fork. “I guess I should have introduced you two again, but I seem to remember you’ve already met.”

“What’s going on, Chris?” Corey wanted to know.

I looked at him with a particular expression he knew well—it told him to shut up and pay attention; I was running the show.

“So, I hear you two have become quite chummy lately.” I picked up the reins and led the horses to my water.

“Now, Chris, you’re getting ahead of yourself,” Steve started out defensively. I knew I had him dead to rights.

“No, now Steve, I don’t think I am. Let me recount. Let’s start with the matter of the Lemming’s Bakery burning down. There’s a lot of suspicion about that and I’m starting to get some heat. Steve, please tell me you didn’t burn that personally?”

“What? Hell, no, you think I’m an idiot? Listen, Tollier,” he said, putting on his tough guy routine. “You said you wanted that building and to do what it took to get it.”

“Yes, I did, but I meant to offer them whatever price they were asking and you knew that, right?” I casually munched my salad as though nothing was wrong.

“Yeah, but you’re a piker, always have been. Hell, we wouldn’t be where we are today without me.”

“No, I suppose that’s true,” I put in, but the irony slid past him. “So, who did you use?”

“I’ve got connections, and don’t you forget that. Anyway, the guy’s going out of town. I took care of it this morning. In fact, that’s the conversation you walked in on.”

“So, why didn’t you just offer to buy the bakery? Why torch it?”

“You really are stupid, aren’t you? You have any idea how much they might’ve held out for? Old crazies like them two? They might’ve wanted two or three mil. Shit! I saved you a bundle and you know it. Also got rid of your competition at the same time. Hell!” he pounded the table for emphasis. “You don’t appreciate me—never have.”

I stole a quick glance at Corey who was wide-eyed but silent. I prodded Steve a little more.

“So, is that the Dillon I saw on the books? Was that where the twenty grand went?”

“Hey, those guys don’t come cheap,” Steve blustered. “I saved you a bundle there, too.”

“Well, I appreciate that, I truly do, Steve, but the funny thing is, Dillon’s payment only showed up in one place. Yes, it fact it was brought to my attention again just this morning that we’ve somehow managed to duplicate our bookkeeping files. They don’t match, Steve. How did that happen?”

Anyone could see he was scrambling. He said nothing.

“Yeah, in fact, I brought a print-out with me. Here. Take a look.” I pulled out a handful of pages that were rolled up and stuck inside my jacket pocket. “Look at these payments, for example, to…” I pretended to run my finger down the page to locate the example. “Yes, here it is. To M.P. Enterprises, Inc. Looks like just this last year we paid out about twelve million and the weird thing is, it says I authorized it. But, oddly enough, I have no clue who M.P. Enterprises, Inc. is. Do you know, Steve?”

His face was flushed. “What is this, anyway? Some kind of shakedown in front of the kid here? You sure as hell didn’t think I was going to sit like a good little boy in my corner office and let you make off with the money that was only there because I brought it in, did you? Hell, everyone does that. I just paid myself a little, well-earned bonus, you can call it.”

“Well, I can understand maybe buying a new company car, Steve, but twelve million this last year alone? How did you do that?”

“Oh, hell, Chris. That’s nothing. It’s at least twice that, if you want to know. It’s okay. You want some? I’ll fix the books and you can have the same thing under the table. No records, no taxes is what I say.”

In Steve’s mind, as long as he could get away with it, and spread it around, it was okay. That was typical of the way mob bosses worked. I had no idea how deep Steve was in. “Is that how it’s done with your friends, Steve? I always wondered how they got away with it.”

He chuckled. “You really don’t get it, do you, shithead? The thirty million or so I pulled out was just my part. The real money went out to the phony businesses. Let me spell it out for you, dummy. The mob. The bosses. They run this city…Doc Verengetti, Tommy Manatilla, Joey Bonetti… the real power downtown. You’re lucky I knew them. I kept you safe, asshole. Without me, doling out a taste to each one of them, your buildings would be charcoal right now, too – just like that Lemming broad’s.”

I fought for self-control. “Steve, why did you keep this from me? The mob payouts, the money you skimmed, the arson…why?”

“Because you couldn’t handle it, asshole! You and your damned integrity,” he said in a mocking voice. “I had to wear the pants in this relationship and you’d better be damned happy it was me and not one of the other guys. They’d have smashed you like the ant you are!” Steve was fuming, restless and I knew he wanted to go, wanted a cigarette. Most of all, though, he wanted to brag.

“For the record, Steve, you got me on this one. I didn’t have a clue what you were doing. I had no part in it and what happens from here on out will be above board because you’re no longer involved. Got that?”

“What do you mean…” he grabbed me by the collar, forgetting where he was. “You tryin’ to threaten me, you pipsqueak? You think I can’t have your lights put out before it gets dark? Who the hell do you think you are?” He was so angry, spittle was spraying over my chest. “Let me the hell out of this booth. I’m grabbing a cab. I’m outta here.”

I calmly laid down my fork, wiped my mouth with my napkin and slid out of the booth. I made a sweeping gesture with my hand and said, “Be my guest. We’ve got enough.”

He was already sliding out of the booth, throwing his napkin into my salad bowl and spat on it for good measure. “You’ll be hearing from me and my friends,” he threatened as he stood.

“As you will from mine,” I responded. “Gentlemen?”

Steve’s face drained as four men from the booth directly behind us stood and blocked his path. Three of them tilted their lapels to show their badges and flipped open their coats to reveal his revolver. The fourth man, Willard, winked at me and gave me one of his rare smiles.

“Mr. Perkins, you’re under arrest,” Detective Delanty of the Chicago Police Department stated. He went on to read Steve his rights as another officer cuffed him and he was led from the restaurant. Delanty stayed behind a moment.

“We’ve heard enough to put him away, Mr. Tolliver. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a finer piece of detective work. No, sir. You know, my partner and I were there the night of that fire. We always hung around Lemming’s. Good people. Shame that happened. My partner got hurt there, as a matter of fact. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of this guy and his friends.” He shifted his coat and held out his hand. “The evidence?”

I reached for the papers I’d brought. “Sorry, forgot all about them. You can send your men by my office. My accountant will give you access to whatever you need. My books are open, Detective.”

Delanty touched his forehead in a respectful salute as he took the papers, turned and followed the others.

I sat back down and pushed the fouled salad away. Truth be told, my hands were shaking. I knew that Steve carried a gun, and when he didn’t remove his coat, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was glad he’d left it behind. They hadn’t found anything as they frisked him.

I looked over at Corey whose face was bleach white. He was slack-jawed, waiting. “Enough said?” I asked him. He nodded. “Then get out of here and go home. Beg that woman not to divorce your sorry ass, but to give you another chance. And if you screw this one up, brother, you can bet every penny I’ve got will see you in the poor house. Go on. Get out of here!” I was brusque and intentionally so. Corey needed to be taught a lesson.

Now, who was going to teach me mine?