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“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 committedfraud?”
“I’m afraid…” said Jeff, “…that it’s more likely the DA has something onyou, 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.
