Chapter 3 - THE MAN THEY CALLED AN ARSONIST
For several seconds, Alexander could only stare at Nora.
"My mother died because of a records warehouse fire."
Nora nodded.
"And your father was blamed for starting it?"
"He was questioned for three days."
"Why wasn't he charged?"
"They couldn't prove it."
She folded her arms tightly across her chest.
"But that didn't stop people from treating him like a murderer."
Alexander moved toward the desk.
"Start from the beginning."
Nora remained standing.
Her hands trembled slightly, but her voice was steady.
"My father worked as a building records custodian."
"The North Canal Annex stored old property records, commercial files, and documents that companies paid to preserve."
"He had worked there for eleven years."
"On September eighteenth, 2001, a fire started after nine at night."
"Your mother died inside."
Alexander knew those facts.
They were part of the official history he had inherited.
The things nobody discussed because Dominic Romano had forbidden anyone from speaking about Lucia's final hours.
Nora continued.
"My father's access badge was used that evening."
"Investigators said the fire began near a records storage area he was responsible for."
"He insisted someone had duplicated his credentials."
"They didn't believe him."
"Who investigated?"
"The city fire department and the police."
"Did they determine the cause?"
"Electrical failure was listed as the official finding."
"But my father was publicly identified as a person of interest before that report was finalized."
Alexander frowned.
"That's inconsistent."
"That's what he said."
Nora sat in the chair opposite him.
"After the investigation, nobody would hire him."
"He lost our apartment."
"He worked temporary maintenance jobs."
"Some nights, he came home with bruises because people recognized his name."
Alexander looked away.
He remembered his father calling Samuel Bennett a coward.
He remembered hearing the word arsonist whispered at the funeral.
At twelve, he had accepted whatever Dominic told him.
Nora reached into her bag and removed a folded piece of paper.
"This is the last note my father wrote about that fire."
Alexander unfolded it.
The handwriting was cramped and uneven.
"I never opened the east storage room."
"Lucia was called there after my shift ended."
"Check who requested the transfer."
Alexander read the words twice.
"What transfer?"
"I don't know."
"My father never explained."
"He was frightened someone would take the note."
Alexander looked at her.
"Why didn't you tell me who your father was when you applied for the job?"
Nora held his gaze.
"Because you never asked about my family."
"And because I needed employment, not another argument about something that happened when I was four."
"Did you know my mother died in the same fire?"
"Yes."
"But I didn't know she and my father had worked together on Lantern Row."
"Are you certain?"
Nora's expression hardened.
"I spent years trying to understand what happened to my father."
"If I'd known there was a connection between them, I would have followed it."
Alexander looked down at the note.
"Why did you stop investigating?"
"Money."
She answered without hesitation.
"Records requests cost money."
"Attorneys cost money."
"Being able to pay rent matters when you're nineteen and the only parent you have left is dying."
Alexander said nothing.
Nora stood.
"I don't expect you to believe everything he said."
"But I won't let anyone call him a murderer without proof."
Alexander folded the note carefully.
"Neither will I."
She looked surprised.
He returned it.
"Rebecca is hiring an independent investigator."
"I'll ask her to include the fire."
Nora watched him for a moment.
"Alexander, you don't owe me that."
"No."
He looked toward the portrait of his mother above the fireplace.
"But I owe her the truth."
The next morning, Rebecca arranged a meeting with Detective Leah Ortiz of the Chicago Police Department's financial crimes unit.
Ortiz had already been reviewing complaints involving suspicious property acquisitions.
She was in her early forties, with dark hair cut at her shoulders and the skeptical expression of someone who had dealt with wealthy businessmen before.
She refused Alexander's offer to meet at the Romano estate.
They met in a plain conference room downtown.
Rebecca brought copies of the disputed property records.
Nora brought her father's note.
Ortiz studied them without interruption.
"You're telling me someone used your company to solicit a sale with an unauthorized signature," she said to Alexander.
"Yes."
"And your corporate attorney is connected to a twenty-four-year-old trust release signed by a deceased woman."
"That's what the documents show."
Ortiz turned to Nora.
"You worked in title examination?"
"Yes."
"Then you know an inconsistency isn't automatically proof of criminal intent."
"I do."
Nora pushed forward a timeline.
"That's why I separated what we can verify from what we only suspect."
Ortiz examined the pages.
There were five columns.
Recorded date.
Document date.
Authorized signer.
Supporting records.
Unresolved discrepancy.
The detective looked impressed despite herself.
"Who prepared this?"
"I did."
"How long did it take?"
"Most of last night."
Ortiz studied Alexander.
"Does your household staff normally prepare financial-crime timelines?"
Alexander glanced at Nora.
"Apparently, I've been underestimating my household staff."
Ortiz didn't smile.
She turned back to the records.
"I can request that the old fire investigation be reviewed, but I can't promise access to every sealed record immediately."
"You're also going to need a civil attorney to challenge the deeds."
Rebecca nodded.
"Already underway."
Ortiz pointed toward the trust release.
"Who benefited from it?"
Nora showed her the successor entity.
"Hawthorne Civic Management."
"That company later transferred its interests through two other firms."
"The second one merged into Harbor Eight Holdings."
Alexander leaned forward.
"Which is currently negotiating to acquire Eleanor Whitman's property through Romano Urban Partners."
Ortiz looked at him.
"And you're claiming you knew nothing about the connection?"
"Yes."
"That's convenient."
"It's also true."
"I'll verify it."
Alexander met her eyes.
"I expect you to."
The detective closed the folder.
"One more question."
"Who was the family attorney in 2002?"
Alexander answered.
"Thomas Calder."
Ortiz wrote the name down.
Then she looked at Nora again.
"Your father was Samuel Bennett?"
"Yes."
Ortiz studied her for an uncomfortable moment.
"The old case file contains allegations involving him."
"I know."
"Some of them are ugly."
Nora's voice was controlled.
"Then I'd appreciate the chance to examine evidence instead of rumors."
Ortiz nodded once.
"Fair enough."
Outside the conference room, Rebecca pulled Alexander aside.
"You need to understand the consequences of what you're doing."
"Meaning?"
"If your father participated in the improper transfer of these assets, this investigation could expose criminal conduct by the Romano family."
Alexander watched Nora speaking quietly with Ortiz.
"My father is dead."
"Your companies aren't."
"And neither are the people who relied on those records."
Rebecca lowered her voice.
"Don't confuse protecting Nora with protecting your legal position."
Alexander turned toward her.
"Would you rather I buried this?"
"No."
"I'd rather you understood the price of uncovering it."
They returned to Eleanor's house that afternoon.
The elderly woman had placed a green metal sewing tin on the kitchen table.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
Inside were old buttons, photographs, envelopes, and a yellowed grocery receipt.
She searched through them slowly.
"It's not here."
Nora sat beside her.
"What's missing?"
"Lucia's letter."
"When did you last see it?"
"Last winter."
"I checked the tin after the storm damaged the roof."
Alexander glanced toward the windows.
"Could it be somewhere else?"
Eleanor shook her head.
"She told me to keep it here."
"What did it say?"
Eleanor looked toward the doorway.
"She wrote it a week before she died."
"She was frightened."
Alexander felt a tightening in his chest.
"Of what?"
"People were trying to persuade her to change the trust."
"Your father wanted the neighborhood to sell."
"Lucia refused."
Eleanor reached for his hand.
"Alexander, your mother didn't hate progress."
"She wanted people to have a choice."
"She said if the old houses ever had to come down, the people living in them should decide when and how."
"Not some company that saw a dollar sign where their front doors were."
Alexander remembered Dominic speaking about the neighborhood after Lucia's death.
He had called it a waste of valuable land.
He had said sentiment made people poor.
"And Thomas?" Alexander asked.
Eleanor looked down.
"Thomas told her the trust was interfering with business."
"Did he threaten her?"
"Not in front of me."
"But I saw her come home from one meeting shaking so badly she couldn't hold her cup."
Nora touched Eleanor's shoulder.
"Did my father know?"
Eleanor nodded.
"Samuel helped Lucia organize the old records."
"He understood which deeds were protected and where the original documents were stored."
"He was a careful man."
Nora's eyes glistened.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
"Because you were a little girl."
"And after the fire, he was afraid."
Alexander looked toward the photographs.
"Afraid of whom?"
Eleanor answered so quietly he almost missed it.
"The same man Lucia was afraid of."
Before Alexander could ask another question, someone knocked on the front door.
It was Miles Price.
He stood outside carrying a thick envelope.
"Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt."
"What's happened?"
Miles looked at Eleanor.
"There's been a complaint about the condition of this property."
Eleanor frowned.
"What complaint?"
"Someone reported structural damage and unsafe occupancy."
Alexander took the envelope.
An inspection request had been filed with the city's building department.
The complaint mentioned foundation movement, deteriorating access doors, and possible electrical hazards.
It requested urgent review of whether the residence was safe for an elderly occupant.
Alexander read the filing date.
Yesterday.
The same day he had confronted the men on Eleanor's porch.
"Who submitted it?"
Miles hesitated.
"The complainant's identity isn't disclosed in this copy."
Eleanor pressed a hand to her mouth.
"They're trying to make me leave."
Nora stood.
"Not without an actual inspection."
Alexander looked at Miles.
"Get an independent structural engineer here."
"Rebecca will handle the city notice."
"And preserve whatever records identify who submitted the complaint."
Miles nodded.
Alexander turned to Eleanor.
"You are not moving because someone sent a letter."
For the first time that afternoon, she smiled.
"Your mother used to say that when she was angry."
"What?"
"That someone would have to do better than a piece of paper to scare her out of her own house."
That evening, Alexander's security director, Daniel Cross, arrived with additional information.
Daniel had supervised security at the Romano estate for eleven years.
He was broad-shouldered, methodical, and one of the few men Alexander trusted to deliver bad news without changing the facts.
"I reviewed the historical access information you requested," Daniel said.
Alexander sat behind his desk.
"From the North Canal Annex?"
"Not directly."
"The old company retained security billing records from the property."
"Some were copied into your father's archives."
Daniel placed a scanned invoice on the desk.
"North Canal used a private security system supplied through a Romano-affiliated company."
Alexander examined the invoice.
It listed several authorized credentials.
One was assigned to the annex manager.
Another to municipal staff.
A third had been issued to the office of Dominic Romano.
The last recorded activation was September 18, 2001.
At 9:06 P.M.
Alexander stared at the time.
The fire had been reported at 9:29.
"Was my father there?"
Daniel shook his head.
"The record doesn't prove who used the credential."
"It only shows that someone accessed the system using an authorization associated with his office."
Alexander looked at the document.
His mother had entered a building that night.
Nora's father had been blamed for the fire.
Someone had used a security credential connected to Dominic Romano.
And twenty-five years later, a forged document was being used to force an old woman out of her home.
"Who kept these records?"
"Your father's legal department."
"Thomas Calder?"
"His office."
Alexander leaned back.
"Daniel, how many people knew I had requested the old fire files?"
"Rebecca."
"Your estate manager."
"Two security technicians."
"And me."
"Did you tell Thomas?"
"No."
Daniel paused.
"But somebody in his office requested access to the same archived invoices this morning."
Alexander looked up.
"Who?"
"The request came through an administrative account."
"Name?"
Daniel handed him the access report.
Alexander read the entry.
The account had been used at 7:14 A.M.
It belonged to Vincent Vale.
But Vincent's own access to the relevant project had been suspended the previous evening.
May you like
Someone was still using his credentials.
Or someone had never needed his permission in the first place.
