Page 98 of Steal My Heart

Satisfied that Bennett’s murder has been tied up with a nice and neat little bow, I flip off the local news. My phone rings, and I answer the call from my broker.

“Mr. Calvani, I’ve been trying to reach you about the Hotel D’Amico property. It seems we’re late to the party.”

“What do you mean?”

“The property was on the brink of foreclosure.”

“Foreclosure?” That makes zero sense; my former capo, Michele, was paid handsomely.

“Apparently, Mr. D’Amico had the property cross-collateralized within an inch of its life.”

“For what purpose?”

“That, I’m not privy to. We could’ve snatched it up for a song in a bankruptcy sale, but it didn’t get that far. His widow, Mrs. D’Amico, recently sold the hotel to get out from under the debt.”

“And the buyer?”

“Fox Investment Group.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Me neither. But I did some digging. The registered agent is a small beans attorney. I’ve reached out to him expressing your interest in acquiring the property.”

“And?”

“He asked for twenty million over fair market value.” She scoffs.

“Put in an offer in writing for that amount, sent over immediately.”

“But Mr. Calvani, I must advise against such a deal. The property is nowhere near that valuation.”

Ah, but to me it’s invaluable. “Make the offer.”

“Right away, sir.”

Ending the call, I tap my fingers on the back of the couch before calling Nic. “Boss.”

“Have you heard any rumors about Michele being in financial trouble prior to his death?”

“It was an open secret that he loved skiing with the girls, if you get my drift, but I never heard anything about financial trouble.”

“When you audited the books from the hotel, was everything in order?” I press.

“Yeah, it was all in order. Why?”

“I don’t know, exactly.” My phone buzzes with an incoming call, and I see it’s the mayor’s office. “Nic, do some digging and get back to me.”

Ending the call, I answer the incoming one. “This is Mr. Calvani.”

“Mr. Calvani, Mayor Morrissey here. I wanted to personally thank you for lunch. That was a kind gesture.”

“Of course,” I say.

“As for your letter, I appreciate the sentiment. But I’m going to need a biggermea culpa. One hundred grand a month is now the asking price.”

“Not a problem,” I say, envisioning gutting this man like a fish.

“And since a little birdie told me certain services are no longer being provided at Hotel D’Amico, I’m going to need girls sent to my apartment on a weekly basis.” He rattles off the address, and I commit it to memory. “This is the first girl I want. I’m sending you her picture now.”