"Well, sort of. But she didn't want you to know about it at all, like you would sell it to the Russians or something."
"Then don't tell me."
"But it was her goofiness when I mentioned your name! She really hates you, you know? She backed into the corner, like you were going to attack her or something. I'm really worried about her now, Marcus."
He sighed in exasperation. "You're gonna have to tell me now. You have no choice."
Quickly I went into the kitchen and grabbed the folder. "It's stock, twenty-five percent ownership in this company Mother and Lovey own." I sat back down at the dining room table. "She grabbed it away from me, when I told her I wanted you to look at it before I accepted it. I'm not in a position where I can turn down a great deal of money, even if it comes from my mother." I slid it across the table to him. "I would just feel better if you look at it."
Marcus read down the first page, knitting his eyebrows together studiously. He turned the page and whistled softly and quietly.
"What is it?" I asked. "What's wrong?"
"Oh my God." His voice was a whisper. "Seven months I've been looking, and here it is, right under my nose."
"What? What's right under your nose?"
Marcus slapped the folder closed. "You cannot accept this stock."
"Why not?"
"Just trust me. It's evil, and it's wrong."
"So is sleeping with a married woman, but that didn't stop you."
"This is not the same thing."
"Sure it is. Tell me what's so bad about Mother's company."
"Marlov Enterprises isn't just two little old ladies getting together to manage some properties for extra bridge money. It’s the parent of another company whose business practices are less than honorable."
"So are thousands of other businesses all over this country! But if you were offered a quarter ownership in a moneymaking venture outright, wouldn't you take it? This is supposed to be a good thing, Marcus!"
"This ain't AT&T, honey."
"This is just a land-owning venture, Mother said. If I took this stock, I’d have something to call my own. I’ll own part of my house! What can be so dishonest about owning a little rental property?"
"Nothing, but you just don't want a part of this."
"And if I do?"
"Then you become eligible for a free, contempt of court citation for your failure to repair seventy-five houses on the south side of Jubilant Falls."
"What?" I felt like I had been punched in the chest. "You can't be serious, can you?"
"I can't believe it myself. Marlov Enterprises is the parent company behind Land Management Limited, which owns Aurora Development. This is what we've been searching for, Kay! Your mother and Lovey McNair, of all people, are the biggest slumlords in Jubilant Falls."
"There is no way my mother could have known about all this!"
"She had to. Now you know why you weren't supposed to show this to me."
"Marcus wait." I flipped through the papers. "See here? It says here that Mother was signed on as a ‘limited’ partner. She just provided the working capital and let Lovey run it herself."
"That's fine. She is still an owner, and according to the prosecuting attorney she's in as deep as it gets, regardless."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing from him. My mother? A slumlord? A member of my family is the reason why Elizabeth Kingston and who knows how many other people are living in squalor? "I don't believe you Marcus," was all I could say.
"Are you going to accept the stock?"
"Are you going to keep what I told you in confidence?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"What you decide to do. Whatever that decision is, it's still a story. It's just a matter now of who writes it. If you accept the stock, the paper has to do something. Because of our relationship, I can't write the story."
"Well, isn't that moralistic? But either way, running my mother down as the biggest slumlord in town is still a story, right?"
"Yes."
"Don't hand me any more of your sanctimonious crap, Marcus Henning. I don't need it. I showed you something in confidence, as a friend, Marcus, as a friend! ‘I'll take it to my grave,’ you said." I minced. "Yeah, right. "
"C'mon Kay, grow up. How would it look, if I suddenly backed off? I’d be committing professional suicide, and I know who the owners are now. I know where to find them. I know these documents exist. This isn't against you, Kay."
"Get out of here, right now."
"If that's what you want."
I stomped into the kitchen to search for a wineglass. The front door closed with a soft click.
Thank God he's out of here, I thought. Who does he think he is? Woodward and Bernstein all rolled into one? This wasn't Watergate, for Christ’s sake. This was a little old lady trying to make a little money for her retirement. There was no way she could have known about Lovey McNair—no way! That old battle-axe was about as evil as they come—snotty, convinced of her own superiority, and intent on making sure others knew it. She conned my mother. I knew it.
I found a bottle of chardonnay in the fridge and poured myself a glass.
No, Marcus was right, I admitted to myself. It was more than that. Aurora Development had enormous holdings throughout the city, and I knew full well what they had left undone in Elizabeth's apartment. But it was such a massive organization! There had to be people up and down the chain of command who were responsible for this kind of thing. What about that awful man who gave Marcus that awful black eye and busted lip? Mother certainly didn't know anything about that, did she? Of course not—she was too wrapped up in her bridge and her hospital charity board functions to know how some monkey in the organizational tree behaved. She couldn't have. I just know it.
The thought of that brick sailing through my window so many months ago circled at the edges of my memory. Was that event and the assault on Marcus connected? It couldn't be.
I swirled the wine in my glass and looked back into the dining room.
That son of a bitch.
The folder was gone.
Chapter 8 Marcus
My heart was pounding in my ears as I ran up the granite steps to the front door of the newspaper. The Land Management Limited documents were rolled tightly in my fist. The old yellowed walls of the
Journal-Gazette
building looked eerie at night, the naked light bulbs suspended from the hallway ceiling like corpses at a hanging.
I found myself praying for a security guard, although the only person I really had to fear was Kay. The newspaper's management liked the idea of having their editorial staff on display at street level, as if we were some discount dog-and-pony show for passing pedestrians. Jess had often requested that we either move upstairs, where classified advertising was, or get a guard, but no dice.
At the top of the stairs, I slipped my key into the front door lock and pushed it open with my shoulder, quickly snapping the lock closed behind me. Exhausted, I dropped everything onto the top of the city desk's computer terminal and flopped into Jess's chair.
My God, I thought, pulling the papers down in front of me and flipping through the pages, I can't believe its Marian James and that pouter pigeon McNair who are behind all this. What am I going to do now? Call Jess. Jess has got to know about this.
I picked up the receiver and punched the auto dialer for Jess's home number.
Jess picked up after the first ring.
"It's me, Marcus. Can you come down here to the newsroom? Right away?"
"Can it wait until tomorrow? Rebecca's got another earache, and we're waiting for the pediatrician to call us back." Jess sounded peeved; I heard his little daughter crying in the background.
"How ‘bout this. I just found out who’s behind Aurora Development."
Jess whistled long and low. "No shit?"
"Such command of the language. You ought to be an editor."
"And you ought to be a reporter. I'll be right down." Jess hung up sharply.
The phone rang again.
"Yeah, Jess?"
"You son of a bitch!" It was Kay. "You lying, dirty thief! If you don't bring those papers right back here, I'm coming down there and getting them myself!"
"You'll get them back, I promise."
"After you've slapped it all over the front page!"
"What do you want me to do? Apologize? This is what we've been working toward for almost a year now, Kay! This is the story that will expose all the wrongdoing for all those people living in those firetraps all over Jubilant's south side."
"This is also my mother! You can't do this, Marcus."
"And you can't deny that you don't want this settled for Elizabeth's sake and for everybody else who has come forward on this. This is wrong, Kay, whether your mother knew it or not doesn't matter. Her name is on the papers, along with Lovey McNair's. She had the responsibility to know what was going on, to know how her tenants were living."
"I want those papers back."
"You'll get them first thing in the morning."
"Now, Marcus."
"Then come and get them." I slammed the phone down and ran to the Xerox machine in the morgue, a room a little larger than a closet, but smaller than the men’s room down the hall, where past issues of the
Journal-Gazette
—and therefore ‘dead’ in journalistic terms—were stored in tall, black-bound books. There was enough time for me to copy everything, before she arrived.
The phone rang again. I set the copier on automatic feed and dashed back into the newsroom.
It was Jess.
"I'm ready to walk out the door. Give me ten minutes. But tell me who it is."
"Kay's mother. Marian James."
Jess was silent for a moment. "Okay. Be right there." The phone clicked again in my ear. Kay would be here any minute. I ran back into the morgue.
Damn it! Who set the copier on letter size and not legal size paper?
Every page was too short, cutting off Marian's and McNair's signatures. I pushed another button and began feeding the documents through again.
Come on, come on, COME ON!
Why can't this thing work any faster?
I heard footsteps on the stairs, and the doorknob to the newspaper rattled.
"Marcus Henning, you dirty bastard! You let me in!" Kay's voice, ragged and hoarse, echoed through Jubilant’s empty streets.
The last copy slid out into the receiving tray, and quickly I shoved the originals back into their file folder.
"Let me in, damn it!" Kay had moved to the sidewalk and was pounding on the frosted glass. "Open this damn door!"
I turned the deadbolt. As she burst through the door, I grabbed her by the arm with one hand.
"Kay, stop it. You're turning you back on every one of those poor slobs who walk through your literacy center door every day. You can't protect your mother from what she's done. She and Lovey McNair are responsible for this, and they need to be called into account."
"Let go of me! I can't believe you would say that to me!" Kay snatched the folder from my hand and flipped through the file. "These aren't in the same order-you've made copies. Copies that you'll use to slander her all over the front page!"
"Articles of incorporation are hardly slander, Kay."
"Why, Marcus, why?" Tears began to roll down her cheeks. "I don't know what you have planned, but you can't involve my mother!" With a jerk, she twisted herself free and ran toward the copy machine.
"Kay, no!" She grabbed the pile of papers atop the copier and tore them in two, then in two again, and again. I watched helplessly, as she took each ragged piece and wrathfully covered the floor with confetti.
"There. You're not getting any further with this story. It's over, do you understand me?" She glared at me in triumphant rage.
"You're selling out on a lot of people, if you do this, Kay. Of all the things you’ve done in your life, I never, ever thought you’d sell out to anything."
"I won't sell out my family. I'm learning how valuable family can be now, Marcus, despite all their faults and all their wrongs."
"Letting little kids eat paint chips filled with lead off the walls is valuable? Letting families live with the stench of shit because they can't get their landlord to fix the john is just a fault? Kay, you're not the woman I knew."
"Maybe I'm not. Maybe I've never been, but you're not going to drag my mother through the mud with this story!"
"I can always have the legal department subpoena them from you or your mother, now that I know where they're at. The people have a right to know."
"Don't you dare spout free press platitudes to me! I want my house key back. You go through with this story, and we're through."
Sadly, I pulled my key ring from my pocket and slid her key off. Eight years I had waited for her, just like I had waited for a story like this to put my career back on track. Did I have to lose one to gain the other?
"Don't do this Kay. I love you."
"That's your problem. If you have anything left at the house, it will be on the porch tomorrow morning. I've got to get back to my kids."
Sobbing now, Kay turned and ran, pushing past Jess as he came through the newsroom door.
"What’s she doing here? What's all this?" he asked, surveying the paper-strewn floor.
"Our hard evidence." I sank against the wall in despair. "Deeds to all the houses Aurora owns through Land Management Limited, letters about how they handle tenant disputes, articles of incorporation signed by James and McNair, everything. Kay just ripped it all up."
"What's this?" Jess walked back to the morgue and pulled another stack of papers from the rack beneath the copier. "Isn't that what this is?"
"My God, she got the wrong copies! The first time I ran the originals through, they were on the wrong size paper! She destroyed the wrong copies!"
"Talk about luck!" Jess crowed, as he flipped quickly through the documents. "We're on our way, old man. We've finally got this thing licked. Those two old biddies will be in jail, before they know what hit them!"
"And all it cost me was Kay." I flopped into my chair and turned on the computer screen in front of me.
"This is the news business, Mark. I've told you that before."
"But would you do a story on your mother-in-law, if you knew she was involved in illegal activity?"
"No, I’d have to have another reporter do the story, because I’d be too close to it. But I wouldn't kill the story."
"Then maybe you ought to write this one, Jess. Suddenly this victory seems awfully hollow."
"What are you talking about, Marcus?"
"Conflict of interest. You said so yourself. Marian James is Kay's mother."
"And from what I saw here just now, the apple doesn't fall very far from the tree, does it?"
I grabbed him by the collar. Eye to bloodshot eye, I could smell the tobacco on his breath. "Listen Jess, I know you never liked her, but that's none of your affair."
"It is, when I see one of my best writers dragging his butt around here like a whipped dog because some broad has him over a barrel!" Jess shoved me away and straightened his collar. "This is the biggest story this paper has had since I've been editor, and you want me to kill it over a woman? Need I remind you that I bailed your ass out once before? And here I was, ready to talk you up to Watt, let him make you our investigative projects editor. But then some broad whines a little, cries a little, and you want to call it all off? You're not dropping this story because I won't let you. Besides, it sounds as if you and Kay are through."
I sank back into my chair. "Maybe so."
"Forget about her, Marcus. You deserve better. We've been friends forever, and I've hated to see her yank you around the way she has." He reached over and patted me on the shoulder.
"It's not that easy."
"Don't hand me that." The hard-edged editor took over again. "I'm going to call legal first thing tomorrow morning and tell them what we've got. I want you to get a quote out of Elizabeth, and I want you there when these two bitches are arrested. Now go home and get some sleep."
"Jess, I can't do this story."
"Then you better learn how, because you don't have any choice. Get out of here."
Leaving Kay's confetti on the morgue floor, I returned home to a night of fitful sleep. Jess was wrong. There was no way I could remain on this story. My involvement with Kay, even if it was now over, was too powerful a conflict of interest. But to lose her again was gut wrenching.
What would I have done in her shoes? How easy would it be to turn in my parents? Could I?
The most illegal thing my father ever did was to buy a little corn liquor every now and again from the bootleggers in those southern Ohio hills. If I wanted to turn him in to the feds, I have also had to turn in every one of the people on our grubby, little street. But this was different. This was massive wrongdoing, massive. It was a systematic endeavor to deprive human beings of decent housing simply because they were who they were.
But what about Kay?
How could she suddenly want to protect this woman? I couldn't understand that. Was it the major's death? Was it her cockamamie idea to bring that Korean kid over here? Maybe it was simply that, as her nuclear family was imploding, she was just trying to shore up everything that was left. But did the cost have to be so high? Or was it only my expectations? Either way, when this story runs in tomorrow's afternoon edition–and it will–Kay will be lost to me forever.
* * *
As the sun crept over the horizon, I left the twisted bed sheets behind and drove through Jubilant Falls' empty streets to Kay's to retrieve my stuff. My belongings, mostly a few pieces of clothing, disposable razors, and an extra toothbrush, weren't sitting on the porch. Maybe she had been bluffing. Lights were on in the kitchen. I took my chances and rang the bell.
She looked like death. Her eyes were swollen, and she was wearing the same jeans and white Oxford blouse she had worn last night. Her hair hung in her eyes, and a faint odor of wine hung on her breath.
I stepped inside and took her in my arms, brushing the copper strands from her face.
"I tr-tr-tried to call her last night and have her explain it all t-t-to me," Kay wept into my shirt. Her heaving sobs made it hard for her to talk. "She went into hys-hys-hysterics, screaming that I broke my promise, that I wasn't worth trusting, that the deal was off. "
"How much have you had to drink?"
"I don't know. What does it matter?" Dry, racking sobs convulsed her slim frame, and she held me close. "I can't lose you again, Marcus. I don't have anyone else."
"What did your mother say?"
"Oh it was awful! I was a cheap slut, a whore, I killed Paul just the same as if I shot him."
"
Ssshhh.
She's a sick woman, Kay, and she needs help." I wrapped my arms around her. "I thought I lost you forever."
"About last night," Kay whispered hesitantly. "I looked over the deeds for the property that Land Management Limited owns. Elizabeth's house was one of them."
"From what I saw, they own every house within a three-block radius of the literacy center,” I said. “Except for this one and a few others, they're all dumps."
"Mother can't know what Lovey dragged her into."
"For her sake, I hope not." I thought of Elizabeth's apartment; she was raising two children in three rooms that would fit easily into Kay's dining room. Marian had to know. How could she be that ignorant? And how could Kay be so bent on suddenly putting her mother in a good light? I’d seen enough of Marian James' insensitivity and wanton cruelty to know she had no good side.
"You're going to go after Mother, aren't you?"
"It's going to get ugly, Kay. I can't tell you much else."
"Why not?"
"Some things require a leap of faith."
Kay pulled away from my embrace and sat down on the stairs, resting her elbows on her knees and letting her hands hang limply between her legs. She leaned her wet cheek against the wallpaper. "Marcus, why has everything between us gotten so difficult lately?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's not the same anymore. There’s a wall between us now, and I can't break it down." Kay shrugged in confusion. "And it all started with P.J."