“Have you and your mother decided to sell the place?” Perhaps she’s come to her senses.
“You know Mooney’s Pub has been a town fixture for well over one hundred years.”
“Yes, that’s true.” I wonder where she’s going with this. She looks down at her hands, fidgeting.
“Well, you see, there’s a second mortgage on the place and a large balloon payment due. I’ve tried to refinance. With my father gone, and my having no business experience running a bar or restaurant, the bank is not inclined to do that. I’m a poor risk, they said.”
“Oh, my dear, I had no idea the establishment was in any financial trouble.”
Her gaze snaps up to mine. “It’s not trouble, just … well, a small hitch. I need some time to get things sorted and caught up.”
“I see. So you want help with this balloon payment? Is that why you called me, you need a loan?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then, what exactly? You can be frank with me, Michaela. Let’s just cut to the chase. Would you like to sell?”
“Of course not. This place is has been in my family for generations. I couldn’t possibly sell it.”
“Are you sure? It sounds like it may be your only choice. The bank hasn’t foreclosed on you, have they?”
She nods. “I’m afraid so. I’ve got thirty days to get everything caught up.”
“I see.”
“It’s not a loan I want,” she’s quick to assure me.
“It’s not?” I truly hope she’s not wasting my time here.
“I was wondering if you’d be interested in becoming an investor, a silent partner.”
My brow lifts. I hadn’t expected her to think of that as a way out. I sigh. When I’d talked to Walter at First Federal, I’d made it clear he needed to be more persistent in going after what was owed. Thanks to small favors and an approval for a coveted membership at the golf club, he was easy to manipulate. Not as easy as the hundred bucks I only had to slip Lyle at the health department. Of course, I’ve got to humor her and appear to actually consider such nonsense.
“Tell me, Michaela, why should I invest in Mooney’s? What improvements have you made in the last years?”
“I’ve got a new grill being installed as we speak, and a new refrigeration unit in coming in a day or two. We’ll be able to do much more in the kitchen and expand our menu, which should bring in a larger lunch and dinner crowd.”
“Perhaps you should have put that money toward the mortgage,” I suggest and watch her shoulders slump, as I expect them to under such criticism. I want her beaten down. I want her to have no expectation of help except to take my offer.
“The repairs were necessary.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
She sighs and confesses what I already know. “The health department shut us down. I had to invest the money so we could reopen.”
“I see.” I pause, making her wait and squirm. “Michaela, I’ll make you an offer, not because I want the place, not because I need it, but because I think of you as a friend, dear.”
“What offer?”
“I’ll buy the place, lock, stock, and barrel. You can be done with it.” At her crestfallen expression, I press her. “Come now, Michaela, this isn’t your dream. You told me so. You don’t want to run this place and be tied down, day after day, with no time off. You want freedom, freedom to travel. I can take this place off your hands, and you’ll be free of it—all the responsibility—the burst pipes and broken-down equipment. I’ll make you a good offer.”
She shakes her head before I even finish. “No, I can’t sell. I’ve got to find another way. If you’re not interested, there’s someone else who might be.”
“And who is that?” I fear I already know, and my jaw tightens.
“Another group who have the means to help me. Their name is not important.”
“Michaela, sorry to interrupt.”
We both turn at the head that pokes through the door. It’s one of her male employees.
“Can I see you a moment? We’ve got a situation out here with the installation.”
Michaela puts her palms on the desk and stands. “Of course, Kevin. If you’ll excuse me, Arthur, this shouldn’t take long.”
I nod. “Of course.”
She moves around the desk and out the door.
I make a tight fist; almost without realizing I’m doing it. Goddamn it. There’s only one group in this town that would want to get their hands on a piece of this place—that damn motorcycle gang, Kings of Carnage.
I can’t let that happen. My eyes shift over the desktop as I frantically think this through. I’ve got to find a way to make the thought of going to that MC more revolting than letting this place go.
An idea comes to me and I grab a piece of paper and a pen off the desk and scrawl a note. This should be enough for her to put off any idea of seeking help from them, though she’ll never be able to prove it and certainly not to any insurance company in order to get a payoff. Of course, if she were to even suggest it, the Kings would probably kill her, though I have to admit, if that were to happen, it would work in my favor just as well.
I glance around for a place to hide the note. It needs to be somewhere she’ll find it, but somewhere she may have missed earlier.
I spot the ledger and flip it open, slipping it inside the back cover, leaving a piece of it sticking out just enough for her to spot. I shove the leather book back under some papers just as she walks back in the room.
“I’m sorry for that, Arthur.”
I stand. “No problem, Michaela. I’m sorry I can’t be the answer to your situation. As I said, if you decide to sell, I’d be interested, but a partnership—I’m afraid that doesn’t appeal to me.”
She reaches out to shake my hand. “I understand. Thank you for coming.”
“Perhaps we could do lunch soon.”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“I’ll call you next week.”
“Thank you.”
I walk out, pausing at the door to look back. She moves behind the desk and stares down at it, tapping her fingers. I know she’s contemplating her situation. I smile, knowing she’ll call me before the week is out.
Twenty-Five
Michaela—
I sit and rub my forehead. I’d hoped Arthur would see the benefits of the investment, but I’ve still got one option left.
Sly’s been in Florida for days now; he’s shared that much with me. Though he calls every night, I can’t help wondering what he’s doing there. I have a feeling it’s some type of big thing, perhaps some national club meeting. The town has been very quiet for the time they’ve been gone, and I’m pretty sure all but one or two of their prospects are on this secret trip.
Sly told me if I had any trouble, I could call the number he left me and a prospect would show up within minutes. I’ve seen a lone bike ride past around closing. He often parks on the side street within sight of the alley and the backstairs that lead to the apartment. I know he’s there to make sure I get locked up safe each night. He lingers about ten minutes after I go up, and then I’ll look out and he’ll be gone.