Chapter 13 - FORTY-EIGHT HOURS
The prosecutor needed more than a bumper.
He needed a direct connection.
The storage unit was rented through a shell company.
The shell company connected to David.
But Mason’s fingerprints were not found inside.
David claimed he had never seen the SUV.
Then investigators discovered the repairs.
A mechanic remembered the vehicle.
The owner demanded cash work.
No insurance.
No records.
But the mechanic kept one receipt because the customer refused to pay the full amount.
The name written on it was M. REED.
Mason.
Now police had a vehicle.
A witness.
Financial transfers.
Photographs.
And a dead man’s records.
What they still did not have was Mason himself.
Then Angela brought worse news.
David’s lawyers were trying to force The People’s Table out of the building.
They claimed Sterling’s Bistro still controlled the commercial lease.
If they succeeded, Mom and the other employees could lose the restaurant within forty-eight hours.
Mom stared at the court papers.
“He’s trying to starve us again.”
Angela nodded.
“This time through attorneys.”
Vincent sat across from her.
“My company owns the building.”
Angela pointed toward paragraph sixteen.
“Your company signed a master lease twelve years ago.”
“That lease gave Sterling’s Bistro renewal rights.”
Vincent read the document.
His expression hardened.
“Mason negotiated this.”
“Yes.”
The room went quiet.
Mason’s betrayal reached further every day.
Mom rubbed her eyes.
“What happens if we lose?”
“You close.”
“For how long?”
“Possibly months.”
Walter was standing nearby.
He lowered his head.
Everybody understood what that meant.
No jobs.
No tips.
No rent money.
Again.
Vincent looked at Angela.
“What do we need?”
“Proof that Sterling materially breached the original agreement before exercising renewal.”
Vincent nodded.
“Payroll diversion.”
“We can argue it.”
“Fraud.”
“We can argue that too.”
“What would guarantee it?”
Angela thought.
“Evidence that the lease itself was obtained through fraud.”
Vincent became still.
Then he looked toward Mom.
“Daniel’s video.”
“What about it?”
“He said Mason was using my name.”
Vincent stood.
“If Mason negotiated the lease while secretly receiving money from David, the agreement may have been compromised from the beginning.”
Angela’s eyes widened.
“We need proof of payment from that year.”
Elena began searching archived financial records.
Hours passed.
Nothing.
The earliest suspicious payment she could find was nine years ago.
The lease was twelve years old.
At 11:40 p.m., I was asleep beneath two coats in a booth when Mom suddenly woke me.
“Rory.”
I rubbed my eyes.
“What?”
“Where did you get the paper you drew Daddy’s stars on?”
“The work paper.”
“Yes.”
“From your drawer.”
“Which drawer?”
“The one with Daddy’s Christmas cards.”
Mom froze.
She ran toward the office.
At the bottom of that drawer was an old birthday card from Daniel.
Inside was a bank statement Mom had used as scrap paper years earlier.
A payment was circled.
NORTH SHORE ADVISORY.
$15,000.
Dated twelve years ago.
Three days before the lease was signed.
Angela stared at it.
May you like
Then she looked at me.
The paper I had covered in purple stars had just become the document that could save twenty-three jobs.
