Alex
"Charged?"I said.
"I'm afraid so," said Zeke sadly. He and my lawyer were sitting, looking at the piece of paper on my desk. Not only had our liquor license been revoked, but I'd been sued in court. And Section 12-Bs were being issued for all my businesses across the company.
It turned out that Gerald Bone had been all around town that morning, issuing the notices to close my clubs and bars. Without the ability to serve alcohol, my bars were shut until further notice. And until we removed all the alcohol from the ground floor ofThe Blue Orchid, we'd have to stay closed.
"But how could they do this?" I said. "What the hell? Wealwaysget our license renewed on time."
"I think I can answer that," said my lawyer, Jeff Reinhart. "If you look at the liquor license, you'll find that Luca Desilva's the signatory for the property."
"Luca?" I groaned.
Of course. It was Luca who'd got the liquor licenses for our businesses. He'd had them processed at an alarming rate. I hadn't even thought about it at the time. But since he'd done all the paperwork himself (or gotten his lawyer to do it), it would be his name and mine on the license. No doubt he'd spitefully informed them of the change in license-holder, first thing after leaving the company.
And with Luca gone from the company, that meant the license would have to be renewed.
"It'll take a few days," I said, "but I'm sure we can get a special order done given the circumstances. After all, it'sThe Blue Orchid, not a nightclub. We don't even serve alcohol after 11pm. Besides, I'm the signatory for the other places. There's been a mistake."
"I'm sorry, Alex," said Jeff. "But it's more complicated than that."
"Someone tell me some good news," said Zeke.
"The fact of the matter is, you don't get a Section 12-B for any old liquor license trouble. Normally it's a Section 12-A, which means you have time to-"
"Spare us the legal Jargon, Jeff," I snapped. "We're in a hurry here." Overnight, my businesses had frozen. We'd had to close early on Friday, andThe Blue Orchidwas temporarily closed until further notice.
"Here's the deal," said Jeff. "Section 12-A? You've got a set period of time to change the license or file for an appeal. That would be no trouble. But Section 12-Bs? That's an immediate suspension of privileges. And that can only be issued in cases where the license would involve a case of fraud."
"Fraud?" I said. "You think Luca's committed fraud?"
"I'm afraid..." said Jeff, "...that it's more likely the DA has something on you, Alex. After all, he isn't the signatory on the other properties."
I felt crushed. I sat down in my chair. What had I done? I'd got in trouble as a kid a few times back in Baltimore, but never been taken to the station or charged. I had a clean record, as did Zeke. As did Luca, amazingly.
None of us had done anything wrong. Zeke and I both ran a clean business. We were well aware that over the years we'd had the opportunity to grease the wheels of progress here or there by bribing an official. But we had both promised ourselves never to endanger the business that way. And we'd kept a close eye on Luca to make sure he didn't do the same. Not close enough, apparently.
Someone knocked on the door.
"Come in," said Zeke.
It was Cherise, the head waitress.
"Alex," she said. "It's the NYPD. They want to talk to you about something."
"What now?" I said.
"I've put them on the line."
"Okay," I said. I turned to Zeke and Jeff. "Let me talk to them."
"You sure?" said Jeff. "Maybe one of us could..."
"OUT!" I barked. Immediately, I felt guilty. These were the guys who were supposed to have my back, and here I was shouting at them. But I was suspicious of everyone and everything. Overnight,The Blue Orchid, my prized possession, had gone from being one of the most famous places in town to an empty restaurant front, with costs that ran in the thousands per week. And not a cent coming in through the door.
Zeke and Jeff left, and I picked up the phone.
"Alex Lowe speaking."
"Mr. Lowe," said a gravelly voice. It sounded like a voice well accustomed to drinking scotch and late nights. "Morning. This is Inspector Russell O' Rourke. I'm with the NYPD, Fraud Squad."
"You're a detective?" I said.
"That's right. Mr. Lowe, as you may or may not be aware, Section 12-B notices have been issued-"
"-I'm aware," I said quickly. "I'm going to fight these charges, Detective. I've done nothing wrong."
"Mr. Lowe, I must inform you that I am permitted by state law to use this conversation as evidence, and as a matter of courtesy, I'd advise you not to make any claims about your innocence. I'm calling to ask if you'd submit to a round of voluntary questioning, preceding your court date on the 19thApril."
I thought about it for a moment. This would be a chance to clear my name. "I'll submit," I said, quickly.
"Terrific. How's about you come down to my office? We can have a little talk."
"When's a good time."
"I'm always here, Mr. Lowe. When's a good time for you?"
I wanted to show him that I was innocent. That I knew I was innocent. And everything was at stake now. My businesses. Zeke's job.
Lola's job.