Chapter 15 - THE LOWEST NIGHT
The forged memo helped.
It did not solve everything.
Mason’s attorney argued the folder could contain legitimate business documents.
The judge refused to reverse the order without forensic analysis.
The People’s Table still had to close.
Friday night became their last service.
Nobody said it aloud.
Customers knew.
Employees knew.
Mom knew.
At ten o’clock, Walter switched off the kitchen lights.
Tina stacked chairs.
The cooks wrapped leftover food and divided it among everybody.
Mom stood behind the register.
She looked at the sign Walter had hung.
EVERY HOUR WORKED WILL BE PAID.
Then she removed it from the wall.
I hated that.
“Are we poor again?”
Mom looked down at me.
“We were never rich.”
“But are we more poor?”
She laughed even though she looked ready to cry.
“For a little while.”
Vincent entered after closing.
Mom didn’t look at him.
“I told you not to fix this.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To apologize.”
She finally turned.
“For which part?”
He accepted the question.
“All the parts I earned.”
Mom leaned against the counter.
Vincent continued.
“I trusted Mason because he spent seventeen years making himself useful.”
“I confused loyalty with usefulness.”
“That was my mistake.”
Mom’s eyes hardened.
“My husband paid for your mistake.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t get forgiveness because you finally admitted it.”
“I know.”
He placed a box on the counter.
Inside were copies of every financial record his companies had concerning Mason.
“No secrets.”
Mom stared at the box.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Good.”
He turned toward the door.
Then the windows shattered.
Everybody ducked.
A brick landed near the bar.
Mom grabbed me.
One of Vincent’s guards rushed outside.
The street was empty.
Wrapped around the brick was a note.
STOP DIGGING UP DEAD MEN.
Mom’s face went white.
Vincent immediately called Detective Monroe.
He did not touch the brick.
He did not send anyone chasing strangers through the city.
He waited for police.
That mattered to Mom.
A little.
Detective Monroe arrived.
The note went into evidence.
Security cameras from the block were collected.
One camera caught the vehicle.
A gray sedan.
Registered to a company linked to David.
But something else happened that night.
Walter disappeared.
His phone went straight to voicemail.
His apartment was empty.
Mom panicked.
The next morning, detectives found his apron hanging on the rear door of the restaurant.
Inside the pocket was a folded piece of paper.
A handwritten address.
Below it were five words.
DANIEL LEFT ONE MORE THING.
Mom stared at the note.
The address belonged to an abandoned warehouse beside the Chicago River.
May you like
And nobody knew whether Walter had left the note voluntarily.
Or whether someone wanted us to go there.
