Chapter 8

"Only seen what a couple of times before?"

Annie motioned for Carlita to come around to the other side of the desk. "This. The tax amounts were pretty consistent until this date."

Carlita slid her reading glasses on, her heart skipping a beat when she read the date. "These are the taxes paid the last year that Vinnie was alive."

"After his death, you can see they went down. Way down."

"Why do you think this is?"

Annie rattled off several scenarios. "It could be as simple as changing the zoning. Maybe it was moved from commercial zoning to vacant land. Was your first husband savvy as far as taxes and property ownership was concerned?"

Carlita thought about it. "He seemed to be pretty proficient at buying properties and not telling me about them. I can tell you he would try to pay as little as possible. He wasn't a huge fan of the government."

"Which is the case for at least half the people who live in this country," Annie joked. "How much is this lender saying he owed in taxes?"

"A hundred thousand dollars. The taxes are something I need to check out. How much has this ‘lender' paid in taxes since Vinnie's death?"

Annie grabbed her calculator and calculated it out. "If Vinnie only paid two hundred and fifty thousand for the property, he got a pretty good deal, even back a few years ago. Although it's a smaller square footage property. Maybe it wasn't far off. Considering it's more than property taxes, added up it might be in line with the hundred thousand."

"So, in your professional opinion, the five hundred thousand plus the hundred for the taxes could be close to accurate," Carlita summarized.

"Possibly. How many payments did Vinnie make to this lender?"

"Only a few."

"Then most of the principal owed at the time he died was still there." Annie blew air through thinned lips. "I know it's none of my business, but why would this lender wait until now—years later—to collect?"

Carlita rubbed her thumb and index finger together. "My guess is money. I think he's been sitting back, waiting for the interest to accumulate."

"If so, this sounds sort of slimy," Annie said. "And not the type of person I would want to borrow money from."

"Me either. Unfortunately, it looks like Vinnie may have. What about the area?"

Annie wrinkled her nose. "It's not the best."

"I figured as much. What was Vinnie thinking, to buy a property over there? I guess he saw something in it nobody else did." Carlita slowly stood. "Thank you for digging into this for me."

"You're welcome. Good luck. It sounds like you might need it."

"Without a doubt." Carlita thanked her again before stepping out onto the sidewalk. She glanced at her watch. It was almost time to meet Mercedes and Tony.

She stopped by the apartment long enough to drop Rambo off and ran back to wait for her children. Within minutes, her son caught up with her in the alley. Mercedes was only steps behind.

"Annie did a little preliminary research for me." Carlita filled them in on what her friend had said.

"So, maybe the place is a dump and on a bad side of town, which is why this Lombardo guy doesn't want it."

"Could be, although Annie seemed to think it was still a decent deal. Remember, Enzo and Costanza made a comment about how Lombardo inherited the debt. Maybe he figures getting his money is a better idea. If so, we could be stuck with a real lemon."

"Technically, I believe the only recourse the lender would have is to foreclose on the property. He couldn't touch any of our other properties," Tony said.

"Unless he got creative and used some underhanded tactics to get his hands on them," Carlita theorized.

The trio climbed into Tony's car for the quick trip. They passed by the touristy area, driving to a side of town Carlita rarely visited.

Boarded-up buildings lined both sides of Morton Street. Several appeared occupied. A liquor store. A laundromat. A check cashing business.

"Pops sure knew how to pick ‘em," Mercedes joked.

"Thank goodness the Walton Square properties were in much better condition, not to mention a much better neighborhood. Had I showed up at this place first, I would have turned the car around and driven right back to New York," Carlita said.

"And I would have been right there with you." Mercedes slid over to the side window. "What is the street number?"

"It's 8807. On this side of the street."

Tony slowed, searching for building numbers. Finally, they found 8805. "It's the next one up."

Through the passenger side window, Carlita peered down a narrow alley. She caught a flit of movement. A man appeared, closely watching as their car crept past. "I'm not sure this is the safest area."

Tony patted his pocket. "I have my gun."

"Good. Who knows what we might run into." Straight ahead, Carlita could see the outline. Two stories. Brick building on a corner lot. It reminded her of their apartment, a traditional Savannah brownstone.

A piece of wood dangled from the front door. Charred building numbers were barely attached. A tattered red and white awning hung above the small entry.

"It ain't much to look at." Tony stopped at the stop sign and turned right.

"Nope." Carlita's eyes squinted. "It's bigger than I thought it would be. I wonder what your father planned to do with the place."

"Bulldoze it and start over," Mercedes joked.

Tony pulled alongside the curb and shifted into park. "Do you want to get out?"

Carlita sucked in a breath. "What do you think?"

"Considering we might end up owning this gem, it probably wouldn't hurt to look around."

"True. Good point." Carlita unbuckled and reached for the door handle. "Regardless of what happens, I suppose I am curious to see what the place looks like."

"Hang on. Let me scope it out first." Tony climbed out of the vehicle and stepped onto the sidewalk. Checking in both directions, he gave them the all-clear signal.

As soon as they were out of the car, he clicked the key fob twice, making sure the doors were locked.

With him leading the way, the three of them trekked toward the front entrance facing Morton Street.

Tony twisted the doorknob. "It's not locked." He pushed on the frame. It refused to budge. "The door is swollen shut. Stand back."

Carlita and Mercedes took a step back.

Shifting his weight, Tony lifted his foot and landed a solid blow to the frame. The door popped open. "Stay here."

Mother and daughter warily watched as Tony, his hand in his pocket, the one Carlita was certain held his gun, crossed the threshold. He disappeared from sight, reappearing moments later. "The coast is clear. You can come in."

They started to follow him in, and Tony stopped them. "I think I should warn you—this place is a hot mess."