Chapter 12 - The Wolves in the Cage
By Friday evening, the county lockup at 26th and California was buzzing with the arrival of Chicago's most high-profile corporate criminals.
Daniel Miller sat on a cold concrete bench in Holding Cell C, wearing an oversized bright orange jumpsuit that hung loosely on his shivering frame.
His designer watch, his bespoke Italian leather shoes, and his platinum signet ring had all been stripped away during intake, replaced by paper slip-on slippers and a plastic identification wristband.
His hands shook so violently he could barely hold the paper cup of tepid tap water the guard had tossed through the food slot.
Through the reinforced steel mesh dividing the interrogation suites, the guard unlocked the heavy sliding gate.
A female inmate was pushed inside by two corrections officers, her wrists handcuffed to a leather belly chain.
It was Margaret Miller.
Her dyed blonde hair was matted and greasy; the heavy makeup she had worn to Oak Street was smeared across her hollow cheeks like greasepaint.
Without her designer camel-wool coat and diamond jewelry, she looked twenty years older, a frail, spiteful crone stripped of every illusion of elegance.
The two officers locked her into the metal chair bolted across from Daniel and stepped out of the room, leaving the intercom running to record every word.
Daniel looked up, his bloodshot eyes narrowing into venomous hatred the moment he saw his mother.
"You betrayed me," Daniel hissed, his voice trembling with poisonous rage.
"You gave Evelyn Cross the safe deposit key."
"You told the state attorneys that the poisoning was my idea."
Margaret glared back at him, her lips curling back over yellowed teeth like an old wolf backed into a corner.
"Of course I gave them the key, you pathetic idiot!" Margaret spat, rattling her heavy steel chains against the metal table.
"Who do you think bought the house?"
"Who paid for your private school tuition when your father died with thirty dollars in his bank account?"
"I built your career!"
"I introduced you to every wealthy client on LaSalle Street!"
"And you repay me by putting eight million dollars in mafia debt on our heads and planning to give the Lake Shore estate to that tramp Jennifer?"
"Jennifer was a plant!" Daniel screamed, lunging forward until his chains jerked him back into his seat.
"She worked for Marcus Vance from day one!"
"She recorded you at Carmine's, Mother!"
"The prosecutor played the tape in front of my face!"
"You were laughing about Elena’s organs shutting down while you ate sixty-dollar veal chops!"
"You hung us both!"
Margaret laughed, a dry, hysterical cackle that bounced off the cinderblock walls.
"Marcus Vance was supposed to be dead, Daniel!"
"You were the one who verified his death certificate five years ago!"
"You claimed your firm had audited the probate filings in Miami!"
"You told me the girl was an unprotected orphan with no brothers, no uncles, and sixty million dollars in unencumbered real estate!"
"You were the one who brought that snake into our lives!"
"If you had been man enough to read the papers Lawrence Vance put in front of you yesterday, we wouldn't be sitting in orange jumpsuits!"
Daniel buried his face in his cuffed hands, let out a long, agonized wail of defeat.
"It’s over, Mother," Daniel wept.
"They raided Victor Sterling’s lab in Gary this morning."
"Victor handed them my voice notes."
"The Bridgeport syndicate debt was bought by Marcus Vance."
"We don't have a single dollar left for bail."
"The public defender they assigned to me told me the state is pursuing life without parole for both of us."
Margaret stared at her son, the reality of their total annihilation finally penetrating her narcissistic delusions.
"No..." Margaret whispered, her lower lip trembling.
"No, I can't stay in this place."
"I have my social committee meeting next Wednesday."
"I am the chairwoman of the Gold Coast Preservation Society."
"You aren't the chairwoman of anything, Margaret," a calm, icy voice spoke from the corner speaker of the observation window.
The two inmates turned their heads toward the bulletproof glass partition on the southern wall.
The privacy shade clicked upward with a mechanical hum.
Standing on the visitor side of the glass was Elena.
I was dressed in a pristine charcoal wool pantsuit, a diamond lapel pin catching the harsh light of the observation room.
Behind me stood Marcus Vance, his arms crossed over his chest, his presence commanding absolute silence.
Daniel scrambled out of his chair, falling forward against the glass, pressing his palms against the transparent barrier.
"Elena!" Daniel choked out, tears washing over his hollow cheeks.
"Elena, look at me!"
"Look what they've done to me!"
"Please, talk to the state prosecutor!"
"Tell them we were having marital problems!"
"Tell them it was a misunderstanding!"
"I'll sign over everything!"
"I'll work as your father's clerk for the rest of my life!"
"Just get me out of this cell!"
I picked up the black telephone receiver mounted beside the glass and pressed it to my ear.
Daniel desperately snatched his receiver from the cradle, his breathing ragged and frantic.
"Daniel," I said softly, my voice smooth and untroubled by anger.
"Do you remember what you said to me yesterday morning when you stood beside my hospital bed?"
Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead thumping against the glass.
"I didn't mean it, Elena... I was out of my mind with stress..."
"You told me that love doesn't pay mortgages," I continued, each word delivered with razor precision.
"You told me that Jennifer deserved a proper home after the wedding."
"And Margaret told me that I was being selfish for not signing over my birthright before my heart gave out."
"Now look at yourselves."
"Two thieves in matching prison jumpsuits, screaming at each other over who gets to spend forty years in a six-by-eight concrete box."
Margaret lunged across the table, knocking the metal chair over, grabbing her son's receiver with her shackled hands.
"Elena!" Margaret shrieked into the microphone.
"You owe me respect!"
"I took you into my home!"
"I cooked for you!"
"I introduced you to Chicago society!"
"You are a heartless, ungrateful little wretch!"
"You stole my son's future!"
I looked at Margaret through the glass, my expression not wavering by a single millimeter.
"You didn't take me into your home, Margaret," I said.
"You lived in my house."
"You ate off my mother's porcelain."
"And you put poison in my teacup every single morning while smiling in my face."
"Your clothes have already been incinerated."
"Your name has been removed from every charity roster in this city."
"And as of ten minutes ago, the Cook County Probate Court entered an emergency order freezing your personal pension and seizing your bank accounts to satisfy civil restitution for attempted homicide."
"You are leaving this room with nothing, Margaret."
"Not a dollar."
"Not a friend."
"Not even the son you raised to be a killer."
I hung up the receiver and stepped back from the glass.
May you like
Daniel collapsed to his knees against the wall, weeping hysterically, while Margaret pounded her shackled fists against the reinforced glass, screaming curses that were completely swallowed by the soundproof barrier.
I turned my back on them both, took my father's arm, and walked out into the corridor without looking back once.
