THE LOOP AT LUNCH was busier than the Loop at any other time of day. All of the downtown offices emptied between noon and two, and that included the courthouse in the Chicago Civic Center. Because Mayor Daley had testified at the Chicago Seven trial the day before and the celebrities of the so-called New Left were on this week’s witness list, the national media had sent their most important reporters.
Print reporters got bored and tried to find stories outside of the normal press updates. The print reporters were the major reason I tried to stay away from the Loop for the duration of the trial.
But as more and more celebrities appeared at the trial and as those appearances showed up on national broadcasts, I had also started to worry about the TV people. The people in front of the cameras rarely did much investigating, but they always brought a team with them, and that team’s job was to find the side story that the other channels didn’t have.
Most of the side stories would be about the trial itself and the mostly-white protest movement that it centered around.
But I didn’t want to get caught on camera and have someone recognize me.
I parked near the library and walked to Sturdy’s offices, my stocking cap tight around my head and my scarf pulled up against the cold. I had glanced in a mirror before leaving home and confirmed what I had hoped: No one would recognize me, especially if I kept my head down.
I clutched a greasy bag filled with the best Southern-fried chicken I’d found in Chicago along with mashed potatoes, some iffy-looking collard greens, and two pieces of chocolate cake. I needed comfort food, and hoped Laura did too.
Sturdy’s offices on Randall and Dearborn were right across from the Civic Center. Eight stories of grandeur covered in grime and filth, like every other Chicago building in the winter. Laura hadn’t spent a lot of time and attention on Sturdy’s headquarters. Her entire focus had been on changing the nature of her father’s business.
She had become chairman of the board a year ago, and she had made it her business to run the company as well. She was determined to take a corporation built on whispered mob connections, slum housing, and profiteering, and make it profitable but honest.
I applauded her efforts, but wasn’t sure she would be make the company as profitable as she believed. The previous management had raked in millions on the backs of the poor, charging three times the going rate for places that hadn’t seen a repair in decades.
Laura had hired me to inspect her properties one by one. I worked directly for her, even though I often told tenants I was
working for Sturdy Investments. The fact that she bankrolled me took care of a lot of problems. It allowed me to work off the books on projects like that death house, which had taken most of my time since late September. Because Laura paid me directly, I would never have to answer shareholder questions about my activities. As far as Sturdy Investments was concerned, I hadn’t done any work for them at all.
Some people inside the corporation knew I did odd jobs for Laura. Judith Clement, her secretary, put me through whenever I called, because Judith knew my calls were important. Others knew I had some connection to the company, but they didn’t know what that connection was.
Television trucks had parked on the plaza and some local reporters were shivering in the outside chill, giving their noon update. No protestors surrounded them, although I had heard there had been a gaggle of them yesterday. It was probably too cold; besides, as far as I could tell, no one with Daley’s level of fame testified today.
I turned my back on the circus and pulled open the heavy glass doors that opened into Sturdy’s two-story lobby. Harried employees headed outside, wearing thick winter coats and fur-lined hats that always made me think of the movie Doctor Zhivago. The employees held briefcases against their sides, and their entire manner spoke of great stress.
Every time I came here during the business day, I remembered why I worked for myself. Right now, I needed the reminder. Yes, my job had been exceptionally stressful for the past six months, but it was a stress I had chosen and, more
importantly, I felt like I was doing good work, instead of pushing paper around.
I loosened the scarf, revealing my face so that I didn’t look like a mugger. My black skin was unusual in this part of town, and the long scar along the left side of my face probably didn’t reassure anyone. A lot of people averted their eyes as I passed them.
I got into the elevator and nodded at Abe Fenton, the elderly attendant. He smiled when he saw me, a step forward for us. It had taken him months to acknowledge me.
Some of that might have been my attitude. His very presence had offended me the first time I had arrived at the office. I didn’t like to think of black elevator attendants yes-sirring and no-sirring white corporate employees, like house slaves of old.
But Laura had offered Fenton the opportunity to retire with great benefits. Apparently, he had gotten angry. He thought she was dismissing him for cause. He liked his job, liked greeting people, and liking being the center of everyone’s business day.
So she had given him a considerable raise, and told him he could work as long as he wanted. He told her he wanted to “die with his boots on,” which she assumed meant that one day, she’d get into the elevator, and Fenton would be gone.
He shoved the lever in the ancient elevator toward the seventh floor. As the door closed and the elevator filled with the mouth-watering odor of fried chicken, he nodded at the greasy white bag.
“You get that in the Loop?” he asked.
I shook my head and smiled. “Just off Martin Luther King Boulevard.”
“Now, that makes sense. Some day, they might actually get real food in this part of town, but I ain’t holding my breath.”
“Why do you think I brought my own?” I asked, wishing I had a little extra.
“That pretty white girl what run this place, she ain’t gonna appreciate real Southern fried chicken.” Over the last year, Fenton had figured out my relationship with Laura.
“I don’t know,” I said, “she appreciates me.”
He chuckled as the door started to open. I nodded to him and stepped into the hallway. Directly in front of me, the glass doors with STURDY INVESTMENTS, INC., written on them in gold stood wide open.
A receptionist I didn’t recognize sat behind the blond wood desk. Sturdy had gotten a lot of new employees in the past year as Laura cleaned house. She slowly learned who remained loyal to the previous management and who hadn’t. She let most of the employees who preferred the previous management retire with full benefits, if they were old enough. If not, she gently asked them to leave and paid a generous severance while they looked for work. She also gave them good recommendations, which I didn’t like. But she believed that would keep them quiet and not allow them to say anything bad about Sturdy.
She was probably right.
The receptionist had a pencil behind her ear. She had long black hair that flipped upward at the ends and was covered in
so much hairspray that it all moved as a unit. She frowned when she realized I was about to walk past her.
“Sir, you need to check in.” She was very young. She wore pale lipstick that didn’t suit her and fake eyelashes that covered half of her cheeks.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Ms. Hathaway is expecting me.”
“She didn’t inform me, sir.” The receptionist stood as if she could officially block me.
“You can check with Ms. Hathaway, but I’m still going back,” I said, as I continued.
The receptionist almost hopped aside as I got too close to her. She tried to look stern, but her blue eyes were wide. I scared her, just like I scared most white people. She lunged for the phone, looking over her shoulder as I started down the narrow hallway that led to Laura’s office.
I wondered if the poor receptionist was calling security or calling Laura. I figured I would eventually find out.
I got my answer as Judith grinned up at me from her desk outside Laura’s office.
“You’re mean, Mr. Grimshaw,” she said, patting her brown curls. “You’ve scared our new receptionist, and I think you did so on purpose.”
“You should’ve left my name up front,” I said, grinning back at her.
“Not that it would have done any good,” she said. “You didn’t even bother to tell her who you were.”
I shrugged. “You have to test the new employees every now and then.”
She raised her painted eyebrows playfully. “Next time, I promise. I’ll leave your name and description.”
“I’m not sure that’ll work,” I said. “I’m sure that half of Sturdy’s staff will fit my description.”
“That is a problem,” she said. “You blend in so well.”
Then she laughed, and so did I. No one could ever accuse me of blending in, not in the Loop.
I liked Judith, and I suddenly felt guilty again for not bringing enough food. “Don’t you get lunch?”
Her smile faded. “I already had lunch. I’m supposed to guard the door while you’re inside, and to strictly monitor your appointment.”
“Which means?”
“You have an hour and you’re wasting it by flirting with me,” she said.
“I never waste time when I’m flirting with you,” I said.
Then I nodded at the door. “Can I go in?”
She took a deep breath. “If you dare.” “That kind of day, huh?”
“The morning hasn’t been pretty. I don’t have high hopes for the afternoon, either.”
Great. Just what I needed. Laura in a bad mood already, and then I had to tell her about Lacey.
I glanced at the door. I still loved the plaque Laura had affixed to the pale wood:
LAURA HATHAWAY
STURDY INVESTMENTS, INC.
For someone else qualified for an office at Sturdy, the plaque on the door gave their name and their job title. Laura had dithered about this for some time, wondering if she should include all of her job titles—from CEO to President to Chairman of the Board—and then she decided on this.
I loved it. The sign itself implied—no, it stated—that Laura Hathaway was Sturdy Investments.
I grabbed the knob and pushed the door open.
Laura’s office was huge, with windows on three sides. She had taken the office that had once belonged to Marshall Cronk, who ran the company after her father died. Before that, her father sat in the center of this huge room.
Laura had moved the desk toward the window. She sat with her back to the Civic Center and the west side of Chicago. To her left, the windows provided a peek at the Chicago River, and the buildings going up in Daley’s mad dash to redesign Chicago’s downtown. To her right, she had a view of the roof of the building next door, and the decaying streets that led to the South Side.
She wasn’t looking at any of that. She wasn’t even looking at me.
She had pulled her long blond hair away from her face. She had woven her hair into some kind of braid and wrapped that like a bun against the back of her skull. Two strands of hair curled on either side of her face, dangling along with gold earrings. She wore more makeup than I liked, but then, she always did at work. She had colored her eyebrows black and put on heavy blue eye shadow, but left her lips pale. On her, the pale lipstick looked good.
Then, everything looked good on Laura.
After a moment, she looked up and gave me a tired smile. Not even the heavy makeup could completely hide the circles under her eyes.
“Smokey,” she said, and she sounded relieved. “Let’s sit at the table.”
A round oak table with four heavy oak chairs around it stood to the left of the door. The table wouldn’t have looked out of place in a fancy dining room, but I knew Laura used it for small meetings.
I grabbed a folded table runner from a drawer inside the large table. I had done this before, although it had been a long time. I put the greasy food on the fabric so that it wouldn’t stain the table.
Laura stood, and I blinked in surprise. She wore a black maxi skirt that covered a pair of black boots. A matching short-waisted jacket almost hid a gold and black blouse. The jacket and the skirt were striking, though: a band of diamond fabric pieces with different patterns circled the jacket and its sleeves, and then repeated on the skirt. As she got closer, I
realized that the fabric pieces weren’t pieces at all, but elaborate embroidery.
The outfit looked professional, individual, and warm all at the same time.
“That’s new,” I said.
She rolled her eyes and pulled back a chair. “You don’t get to see my business attire very often. About six months ago, I decided I was tired of boxy men’s jackets and unattractive skirts. The clothes for professional women are a disgrace. If I had time, I’d fund a professional women’s fashion company.”
She said that last as if she would never have time again.
She sat down and pulled the bag toward her. “This smells good. I forgot to eat breakfast.”
Then she held up a manicured hand and grinned at me. “No lecture, Smokey.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said. I had eaten breakfast almost seven hours ago. I was ravenous.
We opened the Styrofoam chicken container and ate directly from it. Silently, because we were both starving. I opened the large cup holding the collard greens and closed it again. They had looked iffy in the deli; they looked disgusting now.
The fried chicken, at least, was as good as I remembered.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, Laura got us coffee from the coffee pot that steamed from one of the sideboards. She had prepped for lunch as well.
We had started on dessert when I told her about Lacey.
Laura listened attentively. Her eyes filled with tears when I described the hospital, but she wiped them away with an edge of a finger so that she wouldn’t smear her makeup.
“You should have called me,” she said, like I knew she would.
I shook my head. “Marvella helped.”
“I could have stayed with Jimmy.”
“I know,” I said. “But Marvella worked with the Grimshaws. She knows what they’ll have to do to take care of Lacey. I wanted her there from the start. It seemed only natural that she bring Jimmy home.”
“Why couldn’t you?” Laura asked.
“I had some things to take care of,” I said.
“More important than Jimmy?”
“At that moment,” I said, and something in my face must have seemed off.
She frowned. “What did you do?”
I had prepared for this question, thinking about it during the entire drive. If I told anyone about what I had done to Voss, it would be Laura. But if someone caught me, I would put her in legal jeopardy.
“I found out a few things,” I said, dodging the question as best I could while being as truthful as possible. “Apparently, Lacey isn’t the only girl this happened to.”
“From the school?” Laura sounded shocked.
“I don’t know that,” I said. “But I do know that the guy who hurt Lacey had groomed her for a while before the attack, and afterwards planned to put her to work.”
“Doing what—oh.” Laura blinked again, then stood up abruptly. That black outfit made her seem very wealthy and very powerful.
She walked toward her desk, stared out the window for a moment as she calmed herself, and then said, “It’s a prostitution ring? And that man was trying to recruit Lacey?”
“Yes,” I said. “Here’s the thing, Laura. Jimmy’s been telling me that for months, and I didn’t understand him. I thought he was just worrying because of his past. Instead, he saw exactly what was going on, kept trying to tell me, and when I didn’t listen, he took matters into his own hands.”
“It sounds like he came to you,” she said.
“When Lacey went into that hotel, yes,” I said. “If Jimmy hadn’t seen that—”
“He did. And even if he hadn’t, you would have found her.”
I grabbed the Styrofoam container and closed it. I couldn’t look at the food anymore.
“I appreciate your faith in me,” I said, “but I’m not sure I could have found her. These operations, Laura. Timing is everything. Once she left that hotel, she might have disappeared into a world I have no access to.”
Laura turned around. “You’re not here to tell me about Jimmy and Lacey.”
“Not entirely,” I said.
“What do you need?”
“Here’s what I’m hoping,” I said. “I’m hoping that Sturdy owns the building.”
“I certainly hope we do not.” She raised her chin slightly as she said that. She was a formidable woman, and had become more formidable in this last year.
“I do,” I said, “and here’s why. If you own it, Laura, you can shut it down. You can clear the entire building, turn it into something else, or tear it down.”
She took a deep breath, clearly calming herself again. Then she nodded. “What’s the address?”
I told her.
She leaned over and pressed the intercom on her desk. She asked Judith to check to see if Sturdy owned that property, and get that information to us before I left.
“I’ve updated the property lists since last fall,” Laura said after she finished with Judith. “We should have everything at our fingertips.”
I sighed and finished clearing the table. I put all the garbage back in the bag, and I’d throw it into the break room on my way out.
“While we’re waiting,” I said, “there’s yet one more reason that I wanted to talk with you.”
The frown creasing her forehead grew. “Okay.” “Franklin would like to see you.”
“Franklin? Why?”
“I think he’s going to ask you to pay for Lacey’s tuition at a private school.”
“I’d be happy to do that,” she said. “In fact, I’d be happy to do it for all the Grimshaw children. You know I want to help Jimmy.”
“I know,” I said, and for once, I didn’t turn her down.
She raised her eyebrows as she realized I hadn’t said an automatic no.
“Let’s just stick with Lacey at the moment,” I said. “Franklin doesn’t think she should go back to that school.”
“I don’t think any child should be in that school,” Laura said fiercely. “You’ve had gang problems, and now this. And you know their education isn’t good. I don’t care about the after-school program. I know it’s trying, but it’s not the same as—”
“Laura,” I said, feeling overwhelmed. “One step at a time.” A knock echoed. Then Judith peered in.
“It’s not one of ours,” she said to Laura. “And you have less than fifteen minutes.”
Then, without asking, she walked over and took the garbage bag from me. “I will force you to leave, Mr. Grimshaw,” she said softly.
“I know, Judith,” I said, letting my smile at her hide my disappointment.
“Now what?” Laura asked as the door closed.
“Now,” I said, “we go to step two.”