The Vigilantes Part 18

"So? You don't want to do right by me? Make me an honest woman?"

"Yes! I mean, no!"

Jan put her hands on her hips and c.o.c.ked her head. "Well, which is it?"

He sighed. "It's not that simple, honey."

"Don't G.o.dd.a.m.n 'honey' me, Rapp."

"It's just better this way. If I sued for divorce, a lot of things would change." He knew how much Jan liked living in the luxury high-rise, especially for free. "This condo would go away, for one."

She considered that a long moment.

"What if she sues you you for divorce?" for divorce?"

"For what?"

"For infidelity. Everyone saw that photograph of us in Bermuda."

With more than a little confidence, if not arrogance, he shot back: "Pennsylvania courts don't give a s.h.i.t about cheating. And my wife knows it. How do you think I got away with that photo being run?"

He saw Jan eye him more carefully.

Suspiciously.

Like that was painful proof that she ain't the first regular piece I've had on the side.

Or maybe not the last . . .

"I know because I asked," Rapp went on, more evenly. "My lawyer told me."

"Even if the photos are in flagrante delicto in flagrante delicto?"

"In what?"

"In the act, Rapp. s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g."

"Oh. Yeah. Even that. I asked."

Now, why the h.e.l.l did she ask that?

Would she go that low-send Wanda photos of us f.u.c.king-thinking she could become Mrs. Mayor instead?

"But she could sue for other reasons. Could even say you beat her, if she got mad enough to go after you."

He didn't say anything.

Jan quoted, "'h.e.l.l hath no fury like a woman scorned.'"

Badde sighed and said, "She won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"She's got the Badde name, got all that money, and everything that comes with it. Why change?"

"What if she blows the whistle on PEGI?"

"Oh, now, that won't happen. She likes the money too much. Once you been broke, you don't ever want to go back. If all the padded payments from PEGI go, so do all those billable hours the Commonwealth Law Center gets from handling the business that will come from Volks Haus and Diamond Development. And she can kiss goodbye those big steady retainer checks Kwame Construction has paid from the start."

Jan looked at him a long moment and shook her head.

"Rapp, I'm telling you that wives get revenge for a lot of reasons. And they're not thinking about money when they do it."

"I'm telling you, she won't," he said smugly. "Look, we're kind of like the U.S. and Russia were with that Mutual a.s.set Deduction."

"The what?"

"You know, with missiles aimed at each other. To knock each other out. One fires, both sides are toast."

After a moment Jan figured it out, and corrected him: "Mutually a.s.sured Destruction." "Mutually a.s.sured Destruction."

He looked at her and shrugged. "Same difference. If she tells on me, I tell on her, and away goes all her money and her license to practice law or anything else. It'd be suicide."

Their met eyes again.

Badde thought: And if you haven't realized it yet, honey, you and I are now in the same boat. And if you haven't realized it yet, honey, you and I are now in the same boat.

You know that kickbacks are funneled through Commonwealth, which also happens to be a nice contributor to my campaign for mayor.

And you're helping funnel them.

After a moment, she nodded. After a moment, she nodded.

"Okay. I guess you're right, Rapp. I sure hope so."

She pointed at a thin sheaf of papers stapled at the top left corner.

"The fed funds for PEGI, at least the low-income-housing matching dollars, were due here last week. As was the paperwork that turns over possession of the prison to PEGI and the Volks Haus Initiative. We need those funds before the next step there. We've already cut checks for the first empty properties in Northern Liberties-bulldozers began some demolition last week-and then we'll be cutting checks for those holdouts. Maybe the bulldozers will convince them it's time to take the money and move on, and we won't have to evict."

"And tell me again: What's the next step at Volks Haus?"

"Same as it was for the Diamond project." She handed him the thin sheaf of papers.

He glanced at the cover sheet. It had the expected familiar letterhead: Commonwealth Law Center 1611 Walnut Street, Suite 840 Philadelphia, PA 19103 The law center office, he knew, was two floors below his accountant's office.

Below that was printed in large lettering: t.i.tLE 26 EMINENT DOMAIN t.i.tLE 26 EMINENT DOMAINJust Compensation and Measure of Damages "Eminent domain has two stages," Jan said. "The first is to prove that it's legal to take property and, meeting that, the second is to determine a fair price for the property."

He nodded, then turned to page two of the doc.u.ment, a table of contents, and began reading: 26 Pa.C.S.A. # 701 Just compensation; other damages 26 Pa.C.S.A. # 702 Measure of damages 26 Pa.C.S.A. # 703 Fair market value He felt his eyes start to glaze over, then scanned the rest, stopping at the last one: 26 Pa.C.S.A. # 716 Attempted avoidance of monetary just compensation He tossed the papers back onto the table.

"Jesus, I'm glad I hired you to deal with this bulls.h.i.t." He smiled at her, and when she smiled back, he added: "Hope we don't have any trouble with that last one. I mean, what's a fair price for abandoned buildings?"

"Condemned buildings," she corrected him. "The Supreme Court fixed that for us with the buildings," she corrected him. "The Supreme Court fixed that for us with the Kelo vs. City of New London Kelo vs. City of New London decision. There won't be any Fifth Amendment problems with the properties." decision. There won't be any Fifth Amendment problems with the properties."

Badde then motioned at a long cardboard tube on the table.

"Has the Russian seen the architect's drawings?"

"Yuri had his a.s.sistant personally messenger them over from the Diamond Development office in Center City."

She grinned slyly, then added, "You know, I think that messenger boy of his is really his concubine."

"His what?"

"His young lover, his concubine."

Rapp stared at her with an incredulous look. "You s.h.i.tting me? What's a billionaire Russian businessman doing with something like that? I mean, I've seen him with some incredibly hot women."

She shrugged. "Female intuition."

"Maybe. Just don't say anything to him. He has a mean G.o.dd.a.m.n temper."

"Guess that's how you get to be a billionaire," Jan said as she pulled the large sheets of architectural drawings from the cardboard tube.

Badde got up from the chair and walked around the marble-topped table. As he stood behind Jan, looking over her shoulder at the architect's renderings for Volks Haus, his hands slipped down to her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder as he squeezed her hips.

"Pay attention," she said.

"I am paying attention," he said as he buried his nose in her neck and inhaled her lightly scented perfume. "Attention to you. I'll pay even better attention with this fancy outfit of yours off. . . ."

She giggled, then let her head drop back toward his. Just as she said, "I surrender," Badde's Go To h.e.l.l cell phone started ringing.

"Dammit!" Badde said, grabbing it and quickly checking the caller ID. It read UNKNOWN CALLER. "Dammit!"

He stepped back from Jan and started walking toward the sliding gla.s.s door to the balcony. "Yes?" he said into the phone.

The caller was yelling so loudly that Badde had to hold the phone away from his ear.

Jan could almost clearly hear what the caller was telling Badde: "Reggie's dead! They're coming after me!"

VI.

[ONE].

5550 Ridgewood Street, Philadelphia Sunday, November 1, 12:45 P.M.

Javier Iglesia parked his silver Dodge Avenger across the street from the Bazelon row house.

He counted at least a dozen teenagers and slightly older thuggish types milling about on the sidewalk-a handful of whom he'd seen earlier-and almost that many teens, mostly girls, sitting on the wooden porch and steps. Sasha Bazelon sat in the same rocker she'd been in when he'd wheeled away her grandmother three hours earlier.

At first glance, he mused, someone could easily think that a crowd of troublemakers had swooped in to take advantage of a poor teenage girl right after the death of her only kin.

But Javier now knew they weren't troublemakers, at least not all of them, because he was very well acquainted with at least one person on the porch-his baby sister, nineteen-year-old Yvette-and was familiar with a handful of the others, including Keesha Cook, who was sitting between Sasha and Yvette.

They're here supporting Sasha, is what they're doing.

And not trying to take advantage of her during this dreadful time.

Even these punks, who are looking at me suspiciously.

Javier got out of the car and made eye contact with Yvette. As he started walking across the street, she popped up out of her chair and went quickly down the steps toward him.

He was surprised. What the h.e.l.l is up with her? What the h.e.l.l is up with her?

But knowing his baby sister as well as he did, nothing she did should ever have come as a surprise to Javier Iglesia.

What the very pet.i.te Yvette Iglesia lacked in physical height-she stood four-feet-ten-she more than made up for with a bubbly, oversize personality. She spoke almost nonstop, mostly in rapid-fire bursts, gesturing wildly with her hands to make her points. She had straight black shoulder-length hair framing a pretty face that clearly showed her Puerto Rican heritage. Her dark eyes were full of life. And her small mouth was impressive not only for its dazzling smile, but also for the raw expletives that came out of it when she was angry, ones that Javier said "would embarra.s.s a Port of Philly longsh.o.r.eman."

"Don't forget," Yvette often said with a smile, almost as a provocation, "that dynamite comes in small packages."

Three hours earlier, just as Javier had backed up the van carrying Princ.i.p.al Bazelon's body to the Medical Examiner's Office, his cell phone had pinged, alerting him to a new text message.

When he had looked at the phone's screen, the message surprised him: YVETTE.

HEY, BIG BRO . . . SO SAD ABOUT PRINc.i.p.aL BAZELON.

MUST BE VERY UPSETTING FOR YOU TO HAVE PICKED HER UP.

YOU'RE IN MY THOUGHTS & PRAYERS LOVE YOU!.

His first thought: What a sweetheart. What a sweetheart.

Then: How the h.e.l.l did she find out so fast? How the h.e.l.l did she find out so fast?

After processing the body of Mrs. Joelle Bazelon into the system that was the Medical Examiner's Office-putting the body bag in one of the stainless-steel refrigerator compartments, then entering the report and photographs taken at the scene into the computer filing system-Javier had called his sister.

"Hey, I got your text. Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said, her usual bubbly tone gone. "It's . . . it's all just so awful. . . ."

"Yeah. She was a terrific lady. How'd you find out so fast? And that it was me? I mean, I'd barely left the scene"-he paused and thought, Wrong word Wrong word-"that is, Princ.i.p.al Bazelon's house, when you sent that."

"Some guys walking around the neighborhood saw the ME van and stopped to watch."

She knows those thugs watching from across the street?

Maybe Kim Soo was right. They were wannabe gangstas-from-the-'hood.