Foreclosure: A Novel (24 page)

David remembered his meeting with Glades. “I know just where to begin.”

Glades met David and Frank in a lobby bustling with ringing phones and frenzied chatter. “Thanks again for coming down,” he said to David. “And thank you, Mr. O’Reilly.”

David placed his hand on Frank’s shoulder while Frank shook Glades’s hand. “My client’s a little shaken up, but he wants to do whatever he can to help.”

Glades kept his eyes on Frank, watching his every move. “Let’s go,” he said. Glades led them through a solitary hallway. He stopped and knocked on the glass window before opening the door to a conference room where half-a-dozen guys were already seated.

“What the hell’s with the press conference?” David said. He reluctantly let Frank into the room.

“This is routine,” Glades said. He introduced his team, mainly a few assistants from his office and the Gaspar County Sheriff’s Office. But Ashcroft was there too.

“Just so you know, Mr. O’Reilly, a few of us will be recording this conversation.” Glades hit play on a tape recorder. “And they’re running a video recorder in the back.” He pointed to a mirrored wall behind him.

“That’s fine.” Frank folded his hands together and looked at the table in front of him. David tried to lean in close and offer support, but Frank ignored him.

Glades peered at Frank. “Mr. O’Reilly, everyone in this room has one thing in common—we all want to know what caused the fire that erupted in the Gaspar Towers last night at approximately eight o’clock.”

Frank nodded emphatically. “As would I.”

Glades continued. “Well, why don’t we begin there—do you have any thoughts on what might have started this fire?”

Frank kept his eyes on the table. “I could only speculate. I haven’t even seen the accident scene.”

“No need to speculate,” David instructed him.

“Where were you last night?” Glades asked.

“I was fishing ten miles offshore.”

“With who?”

“I went alone. Guy I usually fish with had a date.”

Glades glanced at one of his associates. “And who would that be?”

“Robbie Andersson, two s’s.”

Glades nodded for someone to write that name down. “How did you learn about the fire?”

“I had quite a few telephone calls when I got back within cell range this morning, including one from my attorney here and one from Mr. Andersson.”

Glades turned to David. “Mr. Friedman, I understand you were within the vicinity of the fire last night?”

“I was dining at Gulfview Grill down the highway.”

“At the time the fire began?”

David nodded. “Yes.”

All eyes were on David now. “How did you find out about the fire?” Glades continued. “Did you hear an explosion or see anything?”

“I did not have a direct view of the fire. I heard what sounded like an explosion. At first I thought it was thunder. Then I noticed a bright light down the beach.”

“Do you dine there often?” Glades asked.

“Mainly special occasions.”

“And what was the occasion last night?”

David attempted a smile. “You’re better at this than many attorneys I come across.” He saw that Glades wasn’t smiling. “It was my birthday. Actually, today is.”

“Happy Birthday,” Glades said as he read a note set in front of him. Then he looked up at Frank. “This Robbie Andersson—where is he right now?”

“I believe he’s at the accident scene assessing the damage.”

“How were sales at Gaspar Towers?” Glades asked.

“I’d say about what you’d expect in this market.”

“Slow?”

Frank nodded. “Yes.”

“You finished construction over a year ago, but the entire south tower remained vacant?”

“With the exception of my penthouse.”

Glades set down his pen. “In fact, weren’t the Towers in foreclosure?”

David leaned forward for this one. “We filed a lawsuit against the lender for breach of contract. It then counterclaimed for foreclosure.”

Glades looked right at Frank. “So that’s a yes?”

Frank nodded again. “That’s right.”

“Look,” David said, “we’re going well beyond the cause of this fire.”

Glades smiled politely. “I’m just trying to get a sense of all the circumstances surrounding this loss.”

“I don’t have anything to hide,” Frank said to David, loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room.

Just then, a woman in uniform stormed through the door closest to David and threw Ashcroft and Glades an urgent glare. They followed her outside.

“That can’t be good,” Frank mumbled as the door behind them rattled shut.

The room was eerily silent for a while. The only thing David could hear was Frank taking deep breaths. He sounded winded, if not panicked. A few moments later, Ashcroft and Glades returned. Ashcroft took an uneasy turn toward Frank and glanced back at Glades before speaking. “Mr. O’Reilly. A body has been found in the ground floor of the south tower.”

Frank closed his eyes.

“We believe it to be Katherine Anne Hawkins.”

Frank lowered his head and sobbed.

Ashcroft glanced at Glades again, and then studied Frank. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but we need to ask you to identify the remains.”

Frank barely nodded, but continued sobbing. David felt bad for him, but he was glad Frank’s reaction was being video recorded. In fact, he figured the bastards had intentionally sprung this on Frank so they’d have his reaction on tape.

 
He leaned over to console his client. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

Frank’s eyes were sealed shut now. David trusted him more than ever.

Alton peered across the table in the firm’s smallest conference room, the one usually reserved for meetings he didn’t want anyone to know were taking place. He leered at David like a father who’d just caught his son stealing the family car. “There comes a time, David, when you just have to cut your losses.”

Across the table, Terry nodded in reluctant agreement.

“What losses?” David asked. “I’ve made a lot of money for this firm.”

Alton pushed an invoice across the table. “He hasn’t paid his July bill. And with this fire, I don’t expect to get paid anytime soon.”

“I’m sure there’s an explanation for that. But I’m not going to hang the guy out to dry when things get tough. I know that’s how this firm operates, but that’s not how I want to do business.”

Alton’s cheeks were glowing red. “I say how we do business around here, and this client has turned into a severe payment risk.”

“Hear me out, Alton. I spent the morning reviewing numbers with his adjuster. It turns out he’s over-insured.”

Alton sighed.

“He was insured for the value of the units in 2006. He actually stands to make a nice profit once he’s paid.”

Alton glanced at Terry, then back at David. “And what makes you sure he’s going to be paid?”

“Why wouldn’t he? It’s a covered loss.”

Terry shook his head. “Never underestimate an insurance company’s penchant for not paying a claim. Especially when a fire’s involved.”

Alton rubbed his hands together. “Besides, have you fully considered whether he might have played a role in this fire? You said it yourself, he stood to make a nice profit once he’s paid the full proceeds—apparently better than he would if he could sell the units today. It just doesn’t look good.”

“I’m not saying it’s not a bit fortuitous. But he did not cause this fire. I saw the guy break down when he found out about his daughter. He might be a lot of things, but he’s not a murderer.”

Alton considered the facts for a moment. “So how much work do you have on this case over the next month?”

“We’ve got a receivership hearing coming up. Other than that, it all depends on what happens with the insurance claim.”

Alton stood. “Spend as little time on this guy as possible until the claim is paid.”

“I can do that,” David said.

“And don’t neglect to bring in some more work.” Alton stormed out and left David alone with Terry.

Terry reached around and closed the door behind Alton. Then he turned around and gave David a glare that scared him. “You sure you don’t have anything else to tell me, kid?”

David lowered his head. He wouldn’t know where to begin. And Terry would definitely pull the plug on the whole show if he knew the truth. Not that David believed he knew anything remotely resembling the truth at this point.

“I’m taking care of it, Terry. I just need you to trust me.”

Terry’s eyes honed in on David like they were getting ready to fire. “I’ll accept that as an answer, as long as you promise me one thing. Actually, you’ve already promised me. Just reaffirm it—you’ll let me know when you’re in over your head.”

David paused and wondered just how long now he had been there, way in over his head. “I promise.”

Terry smiled. “One more thing. You need to call Blake Hubert.”

“What about him?”

“Just call him. He’ll explain.”

Wanda Savage sat in the Alderman Room. Her eyes were red and swollen and sleep deprived. Joe McLaren’s pudgy paw rested on her clasped hands.

David took a quick breath and sighed. “Mrs. Savage, thank you for coming here.”

Wanda blew her nose and closed her eyes.

“I told your attorney we’d like to meet when you’re ready. So I presume you’re ready?”

Joe nodded. “She’s ready.”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Wanda said, her eyes still shut.

“In light of, uh, the recent events—”

She opened her eyes. “You mean my husband’s heart attack?”

He nodded. “Yes, in light of these circumstances, my client wishes to extend an offer to you. The bank’s willing to refinance the loan on your house for the current market value of the home at an interest rate of five percent. So, instead of having a mortgage of 1.2 million dollars and 7.9 percent interest, your mortgage would be for seven hundred grand and five percent interest. The bank will write off the remaining principal and cover the closing costs. We’ll characterize the write-off as a settlement, so you won’t have to pay taxes on it.”

Wanda sat in solemn silence.

But Joe couldn’t bite his tongue. “You lying sons of bitches. This is what you should have done from the beginning.”

David couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Here the bank was extending the offer of a lifetime, and Joe McLaren was muffing it up with some first-year-negotiator stunt. “Joe, please shut up.”

Joe leaned forward indignantly. “This is what you should have done before you put her husband in the hospital.”

“I didn’t put him in the hospital, Joe.”

“Yes, you did,” Joe shot back.

Wanda sighed. “Please be quiet, both of you.” She turned to David. “Mr. Friedman, I want to tell you something.” She peered into his eyes. Her face turned clear and strangely serene. “I forgive you.”

David quickly averted her gaze. “With all due respect, I’m not asking you for forgiveness. I’m asking you to accept a very gracious offer from my client, one, that to be honest with you, I did not recommend it extend.”

Wanda whispered, as though she was communicating with someone who wasn’t there. “Mr. Friedman, all I can say is that I forgive you. For every wrong, offense, or trespass you have ever committed against me or my husband—I forgive you. I only pray that Ed will be able to do the same.” She smiled at some point in space. “I forgive you, Mr. Friedman, and I pray that my Lord will do the same.”

“Well, if you forgive me,” David said, “why don’t you accept this offer and keep your house?”

Joe looked at Wanda and shook his head.

“I’m turning it over to my Lord. I just want justice to be done,” she told David.

“I’m not sure you want justice in this case. The DCA will issue its opinion within a month or so and then we’ll be free to reschedule the foreclosure sale.”

“Mr. Friedman, I said I would wait for justice to be done. I have turned it over to the Lord. Now I’ve spoken my piece.” She stood to exit, and Joe followed her.

As Wanda was leaving, David grabbed Joe on his way out of the conference room. “Come on, Joe,” he whispered. “Talk some sense into her. She can’t pass this up.”

Joe gestured that she was loony. “I don’t think she’s been all there since the heart attack. Hopefully she’ll come to.”

“Well, you sure as hell aren’t helping things.”

Joe mouthed the words but didn’t say them: “Fuck off.”

David watched Joe waddle through the lobby to catch up with his client. Wanda had kicked it into overdrive now, flying through the hallway with her dress flowing behind her like a cloud of black smoke. David thought about her statement that she’d forgiven him. If only she knew everything there was to know, he doubted she would have said that. If there was such a thing as forgiveness, he was sure it didn’t apply to guys like him.

As he watched Wanda disappear through the main door out the lobby, he felt a sense of mourning settle over the office. That reminded him that he had somewhere else to be, and he was about to be late.

He arrived at Katherine’s memorial service a few minutes after the hour, but he was still able to find a seat in the back row of a small room in a crematorium not far from the beach. Faces he recognized from Frank’s award reception filled half the room, all the local real estate players seated in rows of rickety, white fold-up chairs.

A tall woman with dark curly hair and a purple flowing gown presided over the ceremony. She spoke about things David had never heard of—some great energy flowing through the universe that had lovingly accepted Katherine back into its arms for eternity.

“And all who knew Katherine knew she was filled with life. And now, she has returned to the great creator. A tragic end to a beautiful life, but in a way her life is only now beginning.”

As David listened to the service, he spotted Frank in the front row. Frank sat still and calm with his head hung low.

“Let us now have a moment of silence to honor Katherine and wish her well on her great journey.”

David saw that most of the heads in the room were bowed forward. The minister—or whoever she was—raised her arms and closed her eyes. He tried bowing his head too, but it wouldn’t move. His eyes were stuck on the photo of Katherine at the front of the room. David wondered how he had missed it. Sure, she looked beautiful in the picture, but there was a lurking fear and sadness in her face. The picture summed Katherine up as well as a photograph could capture a human being’s essence.