Ch 26 & 27: Mysterious Doings... Zeke Talks
A bird's-eye view & a revelation
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Chapter 26 ~ Mysterious Doings
From his front window, Franck could see the long driveway of his apartment building curve down to the street. From the busy street his building looked like a very large house. Back in the 1800s it had probably been somebody’s mansion.
Across the street, which sloped uphill to the left, were trees and a hilly lawn shared by two buildings, one a private home, and the other a small music school, where classes and private lessons were taught on several instruments and voice.
Behind those buildings was a park, several more residential streets, and a small commercial area on State Street. If you followed State Street to the right you could reach a rotary with Church Street. There was no use thinking north or south since this was a New England town with streets that curve and angle and meet in rotaries only to head off in new directions.
Church Street was named for the old church several blocks down on the right side. Across the street from the church was the old parsonage house, which these days looked dark and cold. Set back with a horseshoe driveway in front, hidden by trees and flowers and hedges, the first floor of the house was not easy to view from the street.
It would not have been remarkable to see a light on in a window to the left of the front door, unless you knew that nobody was currently living in the house.
A man sat at a desk in that front room, studying the paperwork, including bills, letters, forms and account books. Behind him, waiting impatiently, Zeke stood jiggling the house keys.
Another man came down the stairs and entered the room. He and the man at the desk discussed the contents of rooms found upstairs. Zeke said nothing. He bounced on his feet, looked around him, and waited. He was not tempted to pick up the guitar lying on the table. That would have prompted a nasty glare from his boss, if not a snarl and a command for silence.
The other man chatted with Zeke about the bank, where they worked together from time to time.
Zeke’s boss gathered up the account books, bills and other paper work and slid them into his briefcase. Zeke was relieved to see that they were probably getting ready to leave. But then his boss opened a file cabinet and skimmed through the folders. He pulled out two folders and scanned through their contents. One of them he replaced into the cabinet and the other he added to the paperwork in his briefcase.
The man turned off the desk lamp and slid back the chair. He talked with Zeke’s bank friend, John, as they walked out of the room. Zeke turned off the overhead light, and followed them to the front door.
As the other two walked out the front door, chatting, Zeke noticed a glow in the back of the house. It was the pantry light by the kitchen. As he approached the pantry, he suddenly heard noises from a room to his left. A door was rattling. He wondered if someone was in there. Or maybe a squirrel. Or a skunk. Maybe just the wind.
Zeke opened the door warily and was greeted with a blast of cold breeze. He’d found the bathroom, and not only was the window wide open, but so was the screen. Zeke lifted the screen all the way, and felt for the latches of the inner storm window, which he pulled down to close off the breeze. Then he noticed the broken glass in the center of the window, and as he shut it, he wondered how long it had been in this condition. Animals like cats or birds could have got into the house. Or even people.
Zeke quickly flicked off the pantry light and rejoined the others on the driveway. He jumped into the driver’s seat and got busy with his seat belt and key. He was glad to have something to do. To drive and not speak unless spoken to. The house made him jittery. Several people’s futures were hanging in the balance depending on what happened with the house in the next few days. One of them was himself.
Chapter 27 ~ Zeke Talks
“pls call me” said the text.
Franck wrote: “Y”
Dawn wrote back: “because I want to talk”
Franck: “I’m jail bird you don’t want this”
Dawn: “I like you that way”
Franck: “have to sort this out – then I will call you”
The phone rang. Franck answered. It was Dawn.
“Is this so hard?” she said.
“Look, Dawn, I think this guy Zeke is going to be here any minute. I have to think this through.”
“You don’t have to do it alone.”
“You don’t want to get involved with this guy and his boss.”
The doorbell rang.
“Here he is, Dawn. I gotta go, wish me luck.”
But Dawn had hung up on him. That hurt. He walked reluctantly down the stairs. Was he being stupid? Should he have invited her over? Was she offended? Should he even open the door for this guy? Should he hide?
Franck’s heart beat faster as he opened the door. It was Dawn. Relief and joy flooded him. He hugged her and rocked her in his hug.
“You lousy sneak!” he shouted. “Where were you calling from, the driveway?”
“What if I was?” she smiled, and they stepped lightly up the stairs.
“I’m glad you’re here,” said Franck. “Very glad you’re here. Do you think I should even talk to this guy? Should I go underground? Yeah, maybe we should get me into the underground tunnel!”
Dawn sat him down at the end of the kitchen table and sat herself down opposite. She laid her hands on his and looked him in the eye.
“Calm down. You’ll do better that way. Maybe this guy has no way to get at you. If it went down as you say, then he made you sign something without letting you read it and that won't hold up in court. In any case, let's get a read on him and see what he's like. You're better off now that there's a witness to whatever he's going to tell you.”
Franck looked at her hands and at the refrigerator, which had started to whir. He looked at the front door, and back to Dawn’s face. He smiled. He was about to say something when the bell rang.
“You have awfully good timing, you know that?” he said, as he made another trek downstairs to open the door. It was Zeke.
“Hey, man,” said Zeke. “Good to see you again. What’s the news? Did you get the stuff?”
“Hey. Come on up. I found our man,” said Franck.
“You did?” said Zeke. “You found him?”
“What did you expect, you’re dealing with an amateur here? This is my friend Dawn. Zeke.”
Dawn nodded to Zeke; he glared at her. Dawn stayed seated at the table and watched. Franck invited Zeke to sit in the living room.
“What have you got for me?” said Zeke.
Franck handed him the papers. Zeke looked them over.
“They’re all empty. What’s going on?” Zeke’s voice took on a more threatening tone.
“You wanted me to find the owner of the house. I found him. You wanted me to bring the papers to him. I did. You wanted to come over. Here you are. Just one little thing missing, a signature.”
“Funny man. How do I know any of this is true.”
Dawn spoke up. “I flew with him to and from North Carolina.”
“So that’s where the man is. Too far away. I have to have something for tomorrow,” said Zeke. “More than my job is on the line. My boss is probably the best-connected guy in this city. All my future jobs are probably on the line here.”
“I feel sorry for you,” said Dawn. “I’ll bring you sandwiches in jail.”
“So you’re a funny one too. I’m not the one going to jail, it’s you, my friend. Don't say I didn't try to help you,” said Zeke.
“Sounds to me you’re on the edge of the law yourself, if not over it,” said Dawn.
“You stay out of this,” he said to her, and turned to Franck. “What’s your exit strategy before I call in the police?”
“The owner’s not in North Carolina,” said Franck.
“You just said he was.”
“He’s here. In Port Haven. At the house.”
Zeke blanched. “At the house?” He lost his cool demeanor, stood up suddenly, paced the floor, oblivious to Franck and Dawn, rubbed his forehead, then stopped in his tracks.
“We made a deal and you didn’t do your part,” said Zeke. “Now you’re done for, my friend. See, here’s the way it is. My boss thinks the house is his. He thinks he has a deed to the place. He doesn’t know yet that you signed it, not the real owner." Zeke paced.
“He’s already kicked things into gear, with feasibility studies of the place. You don't get it. He gets what we call the highest and best use of the property. He'll probably sell it for a big-time profit, piecemeal, like condo by condo. There’s no way he’s going to stop the machine now. He’s totally ruthless."
Dawn and Franck looked at each other slowly, troubled, trying to process this information, and waited for Zeke's next move.
“I’ll make a deal with you, friend,” said Zeke. His voice was edgy, and higher-pitched. “You know the real owner, right? So you get one more chance. Go talk to him, get him to sign these new papers, get them to me, we’ll all be golden. And I mean golden. You’ll get thousands for this.”
“I thought you said five figures.”
“Yeah, that’s right. I forgot. You do it, you’ll get five figures, you and the funny lady here can make out great, get out of my hair, the project will go forward, everybody’s happy.”
“There's no way I can get a signature today,” said Franck, “I couldn't get it this weekend, and I can't do it today. Nothing’s going to change. He's onto this. I better call a lawyer.”
"You don't need a lawyer, Franck," ventured Dawn. "What do you think Zeke's bank is going to say when we tell them what he's been doing?"
"If you even breathe a word…" Zeke sat down. He crumpled in the chair. “Shit.” He said. “Shit.”
Everyone sat still. A faint, repetitive, booming bass from Stella’s stereo downstairs, and the whir of the refrigerator were the only sounds.
"I'm outta here." Zeke suddenly heaved out of the chair and was headed down the stairs before Franck or Dawn could get up or say a word. "I'll call you," he shouted, and slammed the door behind him.
"Franck," said Dawn. Franck looked up, but she said nothing more.
"What?" he said.
She still said nothing.
"What is it?" he said again.
"I didn't get time to tell you. I was coming over to tell you."
"What?"
"Zeke called me this morning."
"What?! Zeke?"
"Yeah." Dawn got up and walked to the fridge but didn't open it. She walked back and sat down. "Yeah, he asked me why I was hanging out with a loser. Said no girl could resist him if she hung out with him for a couple of hours, and did I want to find out why."
"I can't believe it. What did you say?"
"I don't know how he found out about you and me, but maybe he thought he could get something out of me."
"A date? More?"
"No, well, maybe. But I think he wanted information about you. He was such an arrogant bastard I told him to fuck off, and I don't swear."
"I know."
"He said he was going to come talk to you and I better stay out of the picture. That's why I came over."
The doorbell rang. Neither of them moved. It rang again.
Dawn's phone rang. She answered. She hung up.
"It's him. He's outside. He wants us to let him in."
"Do you think we should? Maybe you're right, we should go right to his bank. Get him booted out."
Dawn tucked her hair behind her ear. "I don't know. Something's going on with him."
"Do you think he's dangerous?" asked Franck, fidgetting.
"Ummm, I don't really think so. Let me call him back." She punched a few buttons on her phone and waited. "Why do you want in," she said. She listened, eyeing Franck. Her eyebrows raised. "Okay," she said. She hung up.
"I'm going to let him in. His voice sounds weak. I don't know what's going on but at least he doesn't sound aggressive. Let's find out."
She trotted downstairs to the front door, and led Zeke, trudging after her, back up to the apartment. Franck watched him, stony-faced.
“I can’t do this,” said Zeke. He paced twice and then dropped into the love seat.
“What? Can't do what? What are you talking about?” said Franck.
“There’s not going to be any signature. I hear you. I can see that," said Zeke. "And I can’t tell him. Fondler's just going to have to find out for himself. And he will. It’s my ass that’s grass. You're right. It’s me going to jail. I can’t do this anymore.”
“What can’t you do?” asked Dawn. “What are you supposed to be doing?”
“This is my first 'job,' as he calls it. I’ve worked for the bank for a while, but this is my first job for Fondler. The stress is over the top. John makes a ton of money with this guy and makes it sound so easy but I just fucked up.”
“You’ve never done this before?” said Franck, incredulous. “You sounded like you’re an old hand. You sound straight out of the Sopranos. You threatened me. You got me to buy plane tickets.”
Dawn and Franck looked at each other.
Franck muttered, “I’m kind of glad you did, though.”
“What?” said Zeke. “You’re glad? You yankin my chain?”
“We met on the plane,” said Dawn. “I’m glad you badgered him into going.”
“Sweet. A nice little love story. And I’m going to jail or maybe Fondler will have one of his ‘friends’ beat the shit out of me.”
Zeke buried his face in his hands. Dawn and Franck sat still. It was as if all the jigsaw puzzle pieces just got dumped out of the box in a heap.
“Maybe you can help us,” said Dawn. Zeke didn't move. “Maybe there’s something you know that will help us get out of this, or maybe something you can do at the bank.”
Zeke put his hands down and opened his eyes. “Yeah, if I survive a few more days, maybe I can.”
“Maybe he’s the one that needs to be stowed away in the underground tunnel,” said Franck to Dawn.
“Look,” said Franck to Zeke. “You’ve been a hardass, a greedy son of a bitch and maybe you’re going to get what you deserve, but you know all the ins and outs. What do you want to do about it? What can you do? Maybe there really is some way you can still turn it around, maybe something you can fix before it’s over.”
“Redemption,” said Dawn. “Do something for the good guys. Redeem yourself, cast your sins off and all that. Help us. Help Robert, the real owner. He’s a good man.”
“You guys are so… moral. You actually seem to care about these people. I don’t know anyone like that any more. What’s with that?”
“What’s with that?” said Dawn. “What’s with you?”
“Nothing’s with me. I never dreamed I’d get suckered into something like this. Just trying to bring home the bacon,” said Zeke. “Now I’m on the chopping block.”
“You can always quit and get gigs with the guitar,” said Franck.
“No. Can’t do that. Not much opportunity around here, which is what I like about it. Every time I do a gig, I drink too much. That’s why I’m happy with the desk job. Keeps the wife happy, so she can look after the little guy. At least I’m not going to drink myself to death like my best buddy back home.”
Zeke stood up slowly and painfully.
“You have a family?” said Dawn. “Why’d you hit on me?”
“Why did you have to be so good looking. No, sorry, I don’t mean anything. Just let’s drop it. I fucked up every angle. Listen. The story’s going to be the same for me if I tell the boss, or if I don’t. He’s going to find out for himself anyway. I don't think there's anything can be done.”
Zeke trudged toward the door, shaking his head. “Give me a few days. Don’t make things worse. I’ll call you if I can think of something.”
His heavy footsteps faded down the stairs.
“I am so glad you showed up,” Franck said to Dawn. “I can’t tell you how much.”