EMINENT DOMAIN
Tit Elingtin
Erin O’Riordan
Published by Erin O’Riordan at Smashwords
© April 2011 Erin O’Riordan and Tit Elingtin
All rights reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Special thanks to:
Dara Bettencourt, Editing
Karen Saverine, Formatting
This book is dedicated to all the patriots who fought for our freedom and liberty. The line between patriot and terrorist is drawn by the historian.
Eight – Best Day of Their Lives
Seventeen – Insults And Injuries
One – Death’s Eve
December, 2011
Jeff woke up at six a. m. He hated using alarm clocks and always got up without one. He lay there looking at Kendra, marveling at how much he loved her. He knew this was going to be his last day with her and wondered if he could really go through with it.
He went to the bathroom, took a piss, and headed out to the office to log onto Facebook and watch the morning news. He looked out the window at the dark sky and watched the lights reflecting off the black river. The city lights sparkled like a sea of diamonds in the ripples of the water’s current. He flipped on the TV and turned on his computer.
He checked his e-mails, but didn’t find anything interesting. The weather man said it would be unusually warm the next few days. He wondered if everyone would have a white Christmas.
For the next hour, he played poker on the computer and continued to watch television. After the first twenty minutes of the Today show, he took his morning shit. Then he went into the bedroom and climbed across the bed on top of Kendra, hugging and kissing her.
"Time to wake up, baby doll," Jeff said.
"Ooh," she groaned. "Hi, baby pie.” Kendra kissed Jeff back and smiled.
"Hi," Jeff said. “We have a busy day. It’s nice out, so do you want to go for a walk?”
Kendra giggled. "Go for a walk, go for a walk!" She panted like a dog. They both laughed as she got out of bed. They got dressed and soon made it out the door. They walked a mile and a half, from Cedar Street to Logan Street. Most mornings they walked to Logan and back. It took an hour. During the walk, they talked about the plans they had for the day, as they did almost every day. Kendra had to be at the airport for an eleven a. m. flight to Chicago. From there she would catch a Metro train to Joliet, Illinois.
"I can hardly believe you’re not going with me. I haven’t slept without you for almost eleven years," Kendra said.
"I know it’ll be weird. I’m sorry; I can’t sit on the plane and train all that time. My kidneys are killing me," Jeff said.
"Yes, literally," Kendra said. "You know you can have one of mine. I’m happy to share.”
"I know, baby," Jeff said. "We’ll have to talk to the doctor about that.”
"You mean you’ll have to talk to him. This will be the first time I haven’t been there with you," she said.
"Yes, I’ll have to ask him.” Jeff knew he wasn’t going to show up for his appointment. He had other plans. He had made a habit of always being honest with Kendra. He knew he was lying to her, making her believe he was going to his appointment. He couldn’t tell her the truth. Not this time. He knew she would stay home to stop him. He knew she loved him like no one else ever had. Tears began to fall down his cheeks. "It’ll be okay," Jeff said. "It will all be okay.”
Kendra looked at Jeff and saw the tears as he wiped them away. "What’s wrong?"
"Oh, nothing," Jeff said, "I was thinking about how I’m going to miss you.”
"Well, I’ll be back Saturday afternoon. It’ll be Christmas Eve. Oh, I’m going to miss you too," Kendra said.
Near the end of their walk, Jeff and Kendra went to Carol’s, a downtown diner, for breakfast. Jeff got his usual, a bowl of grits stacked with pepper jack cheese, crispy bacon, two eggs medium and butter. They called it the “special grit bowl” in the kitchen. Jeff was the only one who got his grits like that. Kendra got French toast.
When they finished breakfast they walked home and made love. "I’m going to be late," Kendra said, as they got into the shower. "It’s almost ten o’clock.”
"Don’t worry," Jeff said, "I’ll get you there in time.”
They finished showering and quickly got dressed. Kendra had packed the night before; Jeff grabbed her bag and threw it in the back of the car. "Are you sure you have everything?" he asked.
"Yes, I’m sure. Do you think we’ll make it in time?"
Jeff laughed. "I’ve been driving you around for eleven years and you have to ask?"
Jeff had a knack for driving like he was playing a video game. He knew the positions of all the cars ahead of, behind and to both sides of him, anticipating the moves of the other drivers. They made it to the Willow Bend Regional Airport in record time. Jeff parked the car and told Kendra, "You get to the check-in counter. I’ll be right behind you.” Kendra complied. He grabbed her bag.
After getting her bags checked and getting to security, Jeff grabbed Kendra’s arm and spun her toward him, catching her by the waist. He gave her a tight hug and said to her in a soft voice, "I love you so much. Without you I’m nothing.”
"I love you too, honey pie," Kendra said. "You stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”
"We’ll see," Jeff said with a wink. "Call me when you get there.”
"Okay!" Kendra said as she turned and went through security to the plane waiting on the tarmac.
Jeff watched her go, climbing the stairs of the plane, knowing it was the last time he would see her. He left the building and returned to his car. When he got in it he broke down crying for what seemed like forever. He gained his composure and drove home.
Jeff had the day planned. He still had his fishing boat in the river. He got his pole, fishing tackle and a few beers and headed out the door. He motored the boat over to the waterfall a hundred yards from the house. Gently Jeff bumped the back of the boat against the buoy cable stretching across the river above the waterfall. He set the engine to idle, just fast enough to stay ahead of the current. Looking to his left he saw Charlie and Monk. "Hey, fellas. How’s it going?" Jeff said over the roar of the waterfall.
Monk let out a raspy, "Eh, same old, same old.”
Charlie gave a wave and said, "You gonna get that big one today?"
"If you don’t get it first," Jeff said. "Are they biting?"
"Nah," Monk grunted.
Jeff rigged his line and cast it in. He placed his pole in its holder and sat in his chair. Reaching into his cooler, he grabbed a beer and cracked it open. This is heaven, Jeff thought. If it could be this for the rest of his life, he would have been happy. He thought of all of the fighting he had to do with city government. He got lost in his mind, imagining his house was going to be gone. He would have no more walks in the park, steps from his door. His access to the water would be gone. His future dreams of having a boat rental business were gone.
Jeff swiveled in his seat and looked back at his house. He imagined it gone. All his labor, his effort, felt like a waste of energy now.
Just then Charlie yelled, "Fish on!" as he pointed at Jeff’s pole.
"Oh shit!" Jeff said, spinning around in his chair. He dropped his beer and grabbed his pole. The reel drag wailed with clicks as it spun. Jeff tightened the drag a little and started pumping his pole, fighting the fish. "God damn! It’s a big one!"
Monk and Charlie grabbed their rods and reeled them in to keep from getting snagged up in Jeff’s line. They watched Jeff fight, cheering him on. They kept saying, "Use that drag! Take your time! Don’t break the line!” Jeff felt like he was at a ball game. He was loving every moment.
Twice the fish flew out of the water, letting them see its size. "Holy shit!" Monk said.
"Did you see that?" Charlie screamed. "Did you see that? I’ve never seen one that big. Oh my god, that’s a record king salmon!"
After twenty minutes, Jeff got the behemoth up to the boat. He grabbed his net and scooped up the fish. Lying on the deck, it flopped around in the net. Jeff reached over and grabbed a tire buddy he kept on the boat and clubbed the fish in the head, killing it. He reached into the net, grabbed the fish by the gills and held it up for Monk and Charlie to see. "How’s that?" Jeff said.
"Wow, it’s got to be over twenty pounds. Are you going to weigh it?” Charlie asked.
Monk shook his head, speechless, grabbed his rod and cast his line in. Jeff grabbed his knife, cut the head off the fish and threw it into the water. Then he squeezed it near its rear, pouring out a hand full of roe. He put his hand to his mouth and ate. He took his knife and gutted the fish, throwing the guts in the river. He skinned one side of it and cut a steak-size piece of meat off of it. He rinsed his hands, grabbed another beer and ate his fish steak raw as he sat and watched Monk and Charlie fish.
“Well, good luck, fellas.” Jeff said as he got ready to leave. “There’s got to be a few more of ‘em out there for ya.”
“God damn,” Monk said in his raspy voice. “I never seen anything like that before.”
“You take care of yourself, Jeff,” Charlie added.
Jeff motored back up to the house and docked his boat. He finished off the last beer and grabbed the fish.
Returning to the house, Jeff wrapped the rest of the fish and put it in the fridge. Then he got a couple of contractor-sized garbage bags. He went to his closet and put all of his clothes, shoes and toiletries in the bags. He loaded them into the car and took them to the Goodwill store.
Jeff stopped at a Hallmark store and browsed the cards. He wondered what would be best to get Kendra. Should he get a sympathy card, thank-you card, an I-love-you card…he even considered a get-well-soon card. He settled with an apology card. On the cover was a boy in tears with the caption, "I’m so sorry I hurt you.” He opened the card; inside it said, "I hope you can forgive me.”
That will be perfect, Jeff thought.
Jeff went home. He got a beer and a shot of Jack Daniels, sat at the dining room table and thought of what to write. He downed the shot, chased it with some beer and grabbed a pen. He began writing:
“Thank you for loving me. I never knew true love until I met you. It’s breaking my heart to leave you. I’m sure your heart is broken now too. I was so tired of fighting. I hurt physically all of the time and I’m internally in a rage about the city almost always. I know I could have done things differently; I’m just done. Of all people I think you will understand.
“You are a strong woman now, not the insecure, introverted, spoiled brat I married. You know adversity and know how to fight for success. You will do great in this world as you carry on. Be careful. Remember: they all want to fuck you. Few will love you. I do and did.
Love, Jeff”
Jeff read the card a few times and then put it in its envelope. Time for his last meal. He thought of what to have: Pittsburgh style-steak and lobster at Cloverfield’s East. It was Wednesday; he knew Lex wouldn’t be there. Since Lex never properly apologized, Jeff and Kendra had always avoided going in there when Lex was working. He thought if that little asshole couldn’t show him proper respect he didn’t want anything to do with him. Lex had made everyone believe that Jeff was going to hurt Lex. Since Lex came across as the nicest guy ever, people hated Jeff for that. He was defamed at his favorite watering hole.
Jeff walked downtown and went in the back door of the restaurant. He walked past the kitchen and saw his favorite cook. "Hey Jim!" Jeff said. "How’s it goin’?"
Jim turned his head and saw Jeff. "Hey, how you doin’?"
"Doin’ good, doin’ good," Jeff said "Glad to see you at the grill. You do the best Pittsburgh steak ever. Burn the hell out of it tonight. Black and medium rare.”
A flame shot up from the grill. "You got it, Jeff!" Jim said.
Jeff walked into the dining room, saw Amy, the hostess, and asked her, "Can I sit at that booth there?"
"I don’t know. Can you?" Amy asked, laughing.
Jeff smiled big and said, "Okay, smartass, may I?"
"Yes, you may," Amy said.
Jenny said from across the room, "Hey Jeff, can I get you a beer?"
"I hope so!" Jeff replied, "Guinness, please.”
"Where’s your lady?" Amy asked.
Jeff sat down at the booth. Only a few other tables had customers at them and things were very casual. "She’s at a business conference. I’m on my own tonight.”
Jeff soon got his beer and ordered his salad and meal. When his steak, lobster and fries arrived he got a bottle of A-1 steak sauce and drowned the fries in it. He took his time, enjoying talking with Jenny as she came by to check on him. He had always had a slight crush on her. He’d told Kendra many times how much he liked Jenny. He’d tease Kendra about fantasies with the two of them. Kendra never seemed to mind. She had once asked Jeff if he ever wanted any other women and he replied, "I want to fuck ‘em all.” Kendra’s response was, "As long as I’m there.”
After Jeff finished his meal he moved up to the bar. He sat on the bar stool he called his "Norm seat.” Steve was bartending. He said, "Hey buddy, how’s it going?"
"Good, Steve. How have you been?" Jeff asked.
"What can I get you?" Steve said.
"Guinness, please, and a shot of Gentleman Jack.”
Jeff loved talking with Steve. He sat there drinking for an hour. Kendra called while he was at the bar and they talked for a while too. Jeff told her about his fishing adventure and said he would call her when he got home. It was a little after eight o’clock, and Jeff decided to call it a night. "You can total me out," Jeff said to Steve, giving him his credit card. Jeff wrote $300 in the tip slot and gave Steve instructions: "You keep a hundred. Give Jim and Jenny a hundred each, okay?"
"Wow! You bet, Jeff," Steve said.
Jeff said his goodbyes to everyone and went to the back door. It was raining. He paused there, thinking about calling a cab for the four-block journey. Jenny came around the corner.
"Thanks, hun, for the tip. That was awesome. You have no idea how much I needed it.”
Jeff said, "No problem. You deserve it. Are you going out for a smoke?"
"No, going home. I’m done for the night. What are you doing?" Jenny asked.
"It’s raining. I’m thinking about calling a cab. It’s too cold to walk home wet.”
"I’ll give you a ride. Come on.”
Jeff didn’t hesitate. He followed Jenny out to her car, parked nearby. She pushed the unlock button on her key fob and they jumped in out of the rain.
Jeff said, "I live on Cedar Street. The bridge is in my front yard.”
"I know where you live. I’ve been there before," Jenny said.
Jeff looked surprised. Jenny said, "When Lex lived there I was there a few times. Please don’t say anything, but I think it’s awful how he’s treated you and Kendra.”
Jeff said, "I won’t say anything. Thank you. He’ll learn someday. I can’t be invested in him anymore. He treats me like I’m second class and I won’t put up with that.”
Jenny said, "I don’t blame you. I have to stay out of it since he’s my boss.” Jenny pulled into Jeff’s driveway and turned off her car. "I’d love to see what it looks like now that you’ve finished it," she said.
Jeff stopped, his hand on the door handle. "I’d love to let you, but Kendra’s not here. I’ve always had a thing for you, Jenny, but Kendra and I have an agreement: no one of the opposite sex in the house without the other one being here. I love her too much to break my rule. I’m sorry. I hope you understand.”
"Kendra’s a lucky woman to have you," Jenny said.
"You tell her that next time you see her. She knows I like you. She’ll be fine with knowing you said that. She’ll know you brought me home. I tell her everything.” Jeff winced, knowing he was keeping a big secret from Kendra. He exited the door and said, "You have a good night, Jenny. Thanks for the ride.”
"Thank you for the tip!" Jenny said.
Jeff went into the house. Grabbing his cell phone from his pocket he called Kendra. "Hi, baby. I miss you.” He told her everything that had happened since they last talked. They talked for an hour. Jeff sat in what he called “The Helm,” a bay window area on the second floor that looked out to the river. He sat in his favorite chair, drinking Jack Daniels, and passed out.
Two - Opening the Door
8:27 a. m. the next day
Jeff had cased the home and neighborhood weeks earlier; the city planner, Erin Clarke, owned one of the biggest homes in this part of the subdivision. The house had been built in the ‘90s; the original, blue-gray roof and matching siding remained. The two-story home had an attached, two-car garage. If Jeff had to guess, he’d say it had four bedrooms, at least.
He pulled his car into the driveway and parked near the garage. He hadn’t seen any of Erin’s neighbors along the cul-de-sac as he pulled up. This part of the subdivision lay on a golf course; she had one neighbor on each side, but behind the house, a narrow strip of trees separated the houses from the fairway. Not that it mattered much if the neighbors saw Jeff; they would think Erin hired him to do some work.
He took a battery-powered reciprocating saw from the back of the car, then went around to the back of the house. He climbed under the deck and looked inside a window, making sure he had a good, clear place to get into the walk-out basement without setting off a motion detector. He had an idea of where the plywood sheeting stopped and the insulating foam board sheeting began. He cut through the siding, the insulation, and straight through the drywall. He removed a one foot by two foot area of the wall. He laughed, thinking to himself how foolishly they’d built this place as he cut through it like a hot knife through butter.
The hole didn’t need to be very large, only large enough for Jeff to climb inside without needing to touch a window or a door. That way, he wouldn’t set off any of the sensors. The saw made a lot of noise. None of the neighbors poked their heads out of the door to ask him what he was doing. He knew from years of construction work that people rarely asked questions. No wonder homes get burglarized, he thought. People don’t care to get involved.
Jeff pulled the remaining foam board and drywall toward the exterior. He set down the reciprocating saw inside the hole, dropping it a foot or so onto the flooring. Then he stepped through the hole. He fit tighter than he’d imagined, and he caught the sleeve of his coat on a nail sticking out of a stud. The sleeve tore, but Jeff made it into the house.
Jeff knew the alarm technicians would have installed the alarm box in the basement near the electric panel. He’d made a mental note of the electric panel’s location on his way in. Next to the panel sat the alarm box. Like many homeowners, the Clarkes left their key in the box. He unlocked the box. He followed the wires from the box to the electric outlet it was plugged into. He knew he could unplug the box and the alarm system would act no differently than if the power went out. He also knew the battery inside the box had to be disconnected for the alarm not to send a signal. After unplugging the box, he reached in, grabbed the battery and pulled the terminals at the same time, disconnecting the power.
Jeff located the gas line next. He hesitated for a moment. Was he really going to do this? He’d already broken into the city planner’s home. Even as a child, with little supervision and his run of the city, he’d never gotten into anything this illegal before. He asked himself if he was willing to take this final step. Once he crossed this line, he was no longer a good citizen, full of righteous indignation at the actions of his government. This would make him a criminal. He’d been fantasizing about revenge against the government for years now, but this was reality.
He was really about to disconnect the flexible gas line leading into the city planner’s house and let the house fill up with natural gas. By the time Erin Clarke got home from working that night, nothing would be left of her home but a burnt-out pile of rubble.
“She deserves it,” Jeff said, taking the gas line in his hand. “She deserves to know what it feels like to lose something precious. She deserves to know what it feels like to lose your home and everything you’ve worked so hard to keep.” He decided to see himself as a patriot. This was righteous, he told himself, when the whole system was so corrupt. “Today will be a good day to die.”
He cut the gas line with his reciprocating saw and bent the pipe out of the way so the gas could flow freely. He knew something later in the day would trigger the spark that would cause an explosion. He left the utility room, went up the stairs and opened the door to the main floor of the house.
Leaving his saw behind, Jeff hurried up the stairs. With nothing left to stop him, he walked boldly through Erin’s house. He turned the thermostat down to fifty-five degrees, assuming once it got cold enough, the call for heat would ignite the house. He looked back on his work with pride as he stopped to take a piss on a potted plant in the foyer. He could already smell the gas and imagined it would only be an hour or two before the house exploded.
He walked out the front door and to his car.
Adrenaline raced through Jeff’s veins, but he knew he couldn’t drive like a maniac on his way to town hall. He had to make it without getting stopped by the police. As he drove, Jeff dialed the phone number he’d stored in his phone years before, the number he’d used many times to complain about town matters.
A woman’s voice came on the phone. “Mayor’s office.”
“Hi, this is Jeff Gray. Is the mayor in?”
“What is this concerning?” the woman asked.
Jeff replied, “My house at 149 Cedar St.”
“One moment. I’ll see if he’s available.”
After a moment of silence, Mayor Jonathon Thompson said, “This is Mayor Jonathon. What can I do for you, Jeff?”
“Well, you could’ve left my house alone, but it’s too late for that,” Jeff said into his phone, clutched in one gloved hand.
On the other end of the line, Jonathon sighed. “Jeff, we’ve been over this a hundred times already. Frankly, I don’t know why I even took your call.” His voice was cool, detached. Jeff squeezed the cell phone to his ear; the mayor’s professional tone of voice was as aggravating as ever. “I guess I keep hoping you’ll come to your senses and get over it. Accept it; this is how it’s going to be. Now please, let the rest of our conversations be through our attorneys. They’ll work this out.”
“I only wanted to live in peace,” Jeff responded. “I wanted to be proud of my home, take care of my wife, and live in peace. Don’t you understand, Jonathon? You took that from me. Now I can never get it back.” He hit “end” and let the phone fall.
Jeff needed to make that call. He needed to know Jonathon was in his office. He needed to know he hadn‘t planned all this in vain. After going through all this trouble, he’d get his reward.
The phone landed on the floor beside the accelerator, as Jeff stepped on the gas and rocketed through the parking lot. At nine in the morning, the Thursday before Christmas 2011, few citizens visited city hall. Jeff lucked out: fewer barriers between his Toyota Matrix and what he intended to do.
City hall lay straight ahead.
The glass and steel double doors opened from within, and a woman stepped out. She dashed out of the way just as she’d seen Jeff’s car and, in the split second before he hit the building, realizing he wasn‘t stopping. Jeff didn’t know whether she made it to safety or not. It didn’t matter as the glass came shattering down over the roof of the car and steel scraped the doors with an agonized groan. After the first set of doors, Jeff hit the second set.
Jeff rocked forward in his seat before his seatbelt arrested his momentum. He felt the jolt as his seatbelt tightened and the airbag deployed, slamming into his chest and face. It stung him as it threw his arms clear of the steering wheel. His head slammed into the headrest. His body rocked with the shock wave, but Jeff had no intention of letting the doors slow him down. He floored the gas. The car lurched forward from the wreckage.
It was almost beautiful, like the Fourth of July, the way sparks flew and glass shattered. With the noise of steel scraping against steel, Jeff’s entrance put the town’s annual fireworks display to shame. Jeff inhaled and the smell of the gas can in the back seat hit his nose. He hoped the sparks wouldn’t start the fire yet.
The door’s steel supports twisted upward with the impact, colliding with the ceiling. In an enormous cloud of dust, white textured ceiling panels and light fixtures cascaded to the floor. Wires snapped and sparked.
The door handle hit the driver’s side window. The glass cracked, then splintered into the small shards raining down on Jeff. The handle pulled free from what remained of the door, falling into the car as it struck Jeff. Something wet ran down his cheek, and Jeff knew he’d caught at least one of the fragments with his face. He blinked at the pain, then forgot it.
Jeff barely had time to be amazed he’d made it as he barreled down the hallway, determined to reach the mayor’s office. Clearing the destruction, Jeff saw a flash of the face of the plumbing inspector in the split second before his body went down under the wheels of Jeff’s car.
Jeff looked in the rear-view mirror; the plumbing inspector lay dying in the hallway, a pool of blood collecting under his head. The recognition of what he’d done hit Jeff, leaving an aching feeling in the pit of his stomach. Jeff determined when he decided to hit the gas pedal he would act as a soldier. He knew there was the possibility of collateral damage, that people who weren’t involved could be victims.
“Damn it!” Jeff said to himself. “I was starting to like that guy.”
“He’s got a gun!” a woman shouted. The car shot past four more stunned onlookers. Jeff recognized one of them. Though he currently served as the head of Code Enforcement, Earl McGhee had been a police officer in his day. Jeff wasn’t surprised Earl was still packing. Because of the number of people in the hall, Earl didn’t have a clear shot. If he had, Jeff knew he’d already be dead, or at least mortally wounded.
Instead, Earl’s single shot hit the windshield, already shattered to tiny pieces. The bullet pierced the plastic barrier and entered the car, narrowly missing Jeff. Jeff flinched as the shattered glass tumbled in.
“Stop right there, Jeff!” Earl shouted. Everyone in city hall knew Jeff after his long battle. They probably weren’t even surprised to see Jeff’s car barreling down the halls.
At the end of a long hall lined with half-light office doors sat Mayor Jonathon Thompson‘s office. Stunned workers poured out of those doors. Some ran for their lives, while others stared in a daze at the wreckage and the speeding car as it slid sideways to a halt in front of the wooden doors to the mayor’s office. As he exited the car, he took a Zippo from his coat pocket, lit the flame and let it drop to the passenger seat. Jeff hoped the burning car would force everyone out of the building…and block the mayor’s escape.
He’d considered using a bottle bomb to blow the car to hell. He’d learned the technique online. Supposedly, you had about an hour between making the bomb and the time the explosives would eat their way into the aluminum, triggering the chemical reaction. But Jeff had other work to finish before he reached city hall. He decided he couldn’t risk an explosion on his drive between destinations. In the end he decided a simple can of gas would do the job as well, without the risks.
Jeff had blocked the mayor’s primary exit; now the only way in or out was through the receptionist’s office. He turned his head for a split second and noticed the tire tracks lining the hall, stained with blood, before he entered the receptionist‘s office and slammed the door shut behind him.
Once inside, he pushed over a short file cabinet. He knew Earl lurked out there with a gun and might burst in before the fire burned out of control. Jeff wanted to keep the smoke and flames out of the mayor’s office as long as possible. He feared for his life, but even more, he knew it was time to complete his mission.
The mayor’s secretary, Rachelle, still sat behind her desk in the midst of the chaos. Jeff remembered she’d been friendly with him, even sympathetic. Jeff didn’t need her mixed up in this mess.
“Leave,” Jeff shouted at Rachelle, taking the sawed off shotgun from inside his jacket. She hesitated, looking toward the door to the mayor‘s inner office. “Now. I said now!”
Rachelle got up from behind her desk and ran into the office behind her, the city clerk’s office. The clerk’s office provided another exit. He exhaled, grateful to have given Rachelle her chance to escape as he forced open the door to Mayor Jonathon’s inner office.
The mayor stood, leaning over his desk. “Put the gun away, Jeff. This doesn’t have to end like this.”
Mayor Jonathon Thompson, in his late thirties, looked much younger than Jeff‘s forty-four years. He had what Jeff considered a “baby face.” Fat when he’d been elected, after eight years in office he’d probably put on another hundred pounds, and it showed in his cheeks and jowls. His pale blond hair didn’t help him look any older or thinner. All together, his face gave the impression of an oversized, grossly overfed infant. The starched collar of his blue shirt cut into his fat neck. Jeff could see the sweat already drenching Jonathon.
Jeff‘s hatred of Jonathon boiled to the surface again, as it had during the phone call. As it had, in fact, during every one of the phone calls between these two men since the day Jeff learned the town intended to turn his property into a sidewalk.
“Shut up,” Jeff sneered. “I’m tired of your bullshit, Jonathon. You’ve been trying to smooth-talk your way through this as you lie to and manipulate the citizens of this city for your own purposes. I’m going to put an end to all that. Sit down, Jonathon. You get up again and I’ll just fucking shoot you.” He kicked a tall trash can over, barring the door. It wasn’t enough, though, and Jeff immediately began stacking everything he could get his hands on around and on top of it.
“Okay, okay,” Jonathon said, as cool as ever as he sat down behind his desk. He placed his hands on top of the desk, palms down, where Jeff could see them. Jeff was irritated at Jonathon’s falsely calm demeanor, but glad he had the sense to keep his hands in plain sight.
Jeff paced back and forth in the small amount of space the office allowed him. He expected Earl to burst through the door at any moment with his police buddies, guns blazing. Jeff knew he’d likely die at the outcome of this, but that didn’t mean he was eager to catch a bullet.
“I understand your rage,” Jonathon continued. “I’d be enraged, too, if some son-of-a-bitch politician told me he was going to take my house for a civic project.”
Civic project: Jonathon was fucking joking. This battle had long ago stopped being about the town’s right to build a river walkway connecting Central Park with Silver Park. This was about Jonathon Thompson’s attempt to make the town his own personal legacy, and the citizens be damned. Jeff learned long ago the mayor didn’t like the way he and Kendra were renovating the house. Jonathon personally wanted the house torn down; he’d all but told Jeff so himself. This was personal now.
“You don’t understand anything,” Jeff returned, brandishing the gun. “You’re not going to smooth-talk your way out of this, Thompson. The most dangerous man in the world is the man who has nothing left to lose. You took away everything that meant something to me. What else do I have to lose?”
As he spoke, the mayor’s hands slipped under the desk. Jeff reacted without thinking, squeezing the trigger. The blast struck Jonathon, annihilating his left arm. Blood flew in all directions, splattering the file cabinet behind Jonathon and the papers on his desk.
Jeff thought about how happy it made him to finally see the mayor bleeding and suffering. Jonathon had no idea of the suffering he’d caused for Jeff and Kendra. Now it was Jeff’s turn to watch Jonathon twitch in pain. It felt almost redeeming, somehow.
Five minutes had passed since Jeff had gotten into the mayor’s office, and the temperature soared. From the sounds of the alarm and the fire trucks wailing outside, the rest of the building still burned. Jeff could smell the acrid smoke pouring in through the crack under the doors.
Good, Jeff thought as he grabbed the blanket from the back of the mayor‘s sofa and stuffed it under the doorway to hold back the smoke. No one would come through his barricades and get to him now…except maybe the fire department with a battering ram. Everything would be over for Jeff before that happened.
"What do you want? What do you want?" Jonathon pleaded. "I’ll give you anything.”
"Yeah? What are you going to give me, asshole? What is your life worth? Half a million? A million? Two million? Tell me, what is your life worth?” He stuck his shotgun barrel against Jonathon’s head and screamed, "Tell me, you piece of shit: what is your life worth?"
Jonathon said, "I can’t tell you. It’s priceless.”
"Yeah, well, so was my liberty, you fuckin’ shit," Jeff said as he stepped back and let his gun down.
From outside, a woman’s voice shrieked through the glass, “You bastard!”
The windows rattled behind closed blinds as the enraged woman beat on them with both fists. “You killed my daughter!” she screamed.
Jeff jumped at the sound. He and Jonathon stared into one another’s eyes. He said to Jonathon, “Look and see who that is.”
Jonathon turned and peered through the blinds. “It’s Erin Clarke,” he said.
“Tell her to go away,” Jeff growled at the mayor.
Jonathon flinched, wincing in pain as he held his wounded arm. “If I move, you’ll shoot me. You tell her.”
“I‘ll shoot you if you don’t tell her, you stupid asshole.”
In the hall, Jeff heard the firefighters. He heard the force of the water as they turned their hoses on the burning car. Water, tainted by soot, rushed under the door and soaked the carpet of the mayor’s office.
On the other side of the window, Erin pounded, still screaming, “You killed my daughter!”
Jeff realized what he’d done. He said to the mayor, “Tell her to go away.”
Jonathon yelled, “Erin! Erin, can you hear me?”
She stopped pounding for a moment. “Jonathon? Are you all right?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” His words sounded illogical as he held his bleeding, mangled arm, which oozed dark blood onto the once-blue sleeve of his shirt. “You need to go or he’ll kill me.”
Jeff fired his shotgun at the ceiling and shouted, “Get out of here! I’m not fucking around!” A cloud of dust and crumbled ceiling tile rained down on him.
Three - Home Owners
March, 2002
Sometimes, Jeff still couldn’t believe this girl wanted to hang out with him, much less marry him. At twenty-four and nearly ten years younger than him, Kendra Wilson gave Jeff everything he could ask for. Her parents had invested in sending her to a private, all-woman, liberal arts college, where Kendra majored in business. After graduation, she’d gone on to complete a computer programming course and landed a job as a layout designer for a local magazine, the River Rock. It didn’t exactly pay the bills, but Kendra did her job with talent and enthusiasm.
Kendra’s chocolate-brown hair fell down to her collarbone. The old saying ‘gentlemen prefer blondes’ didn’t apply to Jeff. He preferred the “girl next door” look, and Kendra had it. With her small, delicate features and wide blue eyes, she drew looks wherever she and Jeff went. She rarely wore make-up, and looked all the better because of it. She kept herself in shape, taking time every morning before work to do sit-ups and walk on the treadmill. She had curves in all the right places.
Now Jeff and Kendra had a chance to show the house of their dreams to Kendra’s parents. Their real estate agent Margot let them in, then left them alone while she met with another client in Willow Bend. Kendra’s mother, Candace, walked around the house with her eyes wide. Jeff asked her what she thought.
“It’s so big! I love it. I would love to live here myself. Of course, it‘s a lot of work,” she said in an anxious tone.
“Don’t forget, I’ve owned a lot of houses,” Jeff told her and Kendra’s father, Wade. Wade hadn’t said much of anything the whole time they’d been touring the place. “I know how things are supposed to be done. I’m going to be a really aggressive buyer, and Kendra and I are going to end up with a whole lot more than we’re going to pay for.”
“I hope so,” Candace said, sighing. “This place really could be beautiful with a lot of TLC.”
“You’re damn right it could,” Jeff agreed. “Don’t forget, this is riverfront property. When I rented that apartment on the lake, I saw tiny bungalows sell for a hundred to a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The new owners tore them down and build mini-mansions worth anywhere from half a million to a million dollars. That’s the life cycle of waterfront property: it gets harder to own as people build bigger, grander, and more exclusive neighborhoods. Nothing increases in value like waterfront property. It’s getting to the point where unless you’re rich, you can’t live on the water anymore. They’re pricing waterfront property so high these days, ordinary people can’t have it. I really think if I do this right, it’ll be the deal of a lifetime. The most valuable thing we’ll ever own; by the time we‘re old and gray, we‘ll be able to sell this place for at least half a million dollars. This house will be our retirement some day.”
“It’s so big,” Candace repeated. “What do you need all this space for?”
Wade ignored her. “I believe you can do it,” he told Jeff proudly. “I believe you two can do anything you set your minds to.” His opinion made Jeff proud.
149 North Cedar Street needed a lot of work. Despite its flaws, though, it had many charms. It stood alone, with the Cedar Street bridge literally coming to an end in its front yard. A haggard, half-dead maple tree stood in front. At the other end of the yard, a low wall separated the property from the flower shop’s parking lot. The house had two stories, with white siding and a steep, green roof in obvious need of repair. A large gable covered all four sides of the house, with long valleys that stopped just above the first floor windows. The wooden arbor needed some work, its white paint peeled, but underneath the wood seemed in good shape. Its whimsical curves gave the house a distinctive entry way, even if the exterior storm door, clear glass from top to bottom, did make the front room seem like an aquarium. Through the front room, a set of old-style French doors led into a smaller side room lined with windows on two sides. The river gleamed through both sides. The first time she’d seen it, Kendra had remarked, “This would make a perfect office. I could sit here and work on the magazine while I stare out at the water. Doesn’t it look peaceful?”
As they lay in bed in their loft in Willow Bend, Jeff said to Kendra, “How much would you love to live near the river in Princess City?”
Their wedding date approached, and Jeff and Kendra discussed getting out of the apartment. As much as they liked the loft, they couldn’t make economic sense of continuing to pay rent on it every month when they could put the same money into a house payment and earning some equity. Jeff liked the sound of equity, the sound of actually owning something that would be his and Kendra’s.
“We live on the same river now,” she said, turning over on her pillow. “Only further north.” In fact, if they’d listened closely, from their beds they could hear the rushing sounds of the raceway rejoining the river at the end of the island.
“But we don’t own this place. If we put a bid on the house on Cedar, we could actually own a piece of river-front property.”
“I would like to have our own river bank,” Kendra said.
“We could water-ski on this part of the river, too. It’s flat, not choppy like our part of the river. We could get a boat. Not only that, but it’s close to the parks. I can fish in Central Park, and we can use the tennis courts in the summer. A few blocks in the other direction and we’d be at Silver Park. We can swim in the summer and ice skate in the winter. And no more sharing walls with our neighbors. In fact, no neighbors! You can play the stereo as loud as you want, and no one will say a thing.”
“You make it sound like it’s out in the middle of nowhere. It’s as much downtown as the loft. In fact, I think when I looked out that second floor window on the south side, I could see the red roof of the Wellington Mansion.”
The Wellington Mansion, once the home of Princess City’s wealthy rubber plant owners, developed into an elegant bed and breakfast. The River Rock held its Christmas parties there, though Kendra, hired months before, hadn‘t attended one yet.
“I’m sure you did. That’s the real beauty of this house: it’s hidden in plain sight, near the main road through town but separated from it by the bridge, inaccessible from the river side, and still easy for your family to get to. It would be our own little urban oasis.”
“Only not so little,” she countered. “It needs a lot of work before we can have people over.”
“A lot of work,” he agreed, “but it’s what I do. Do you think I’m good at my job, Kendra?”
“Yeah, of course you are.”
“If I’m that way on other people’s houses, imagine how hard I’m going to work on my own home. I’ve moved a lot more than you have in my life, and I’ve always believed that every time I left a place, I left it in better shape than when I moved in. This Cedar Street house may look run down, but it will be a palace when I’m done with it.”
“My own little Taj Mahal,“ Kendra laughed, and Jeff laughed along with her.
“I don’t know about that,” Jeff said. “I doubt it’s going to get that fancy.”
“No, I mean it will be your labor of love. The Taj Mahal was built for a woman by a man who was in love,” she said.
He continued, “The only thing that worries me is the way those joists sagged on the second floor. Before we put in an offer on it, we’ll have to get a structural engineer to look at the place, make sure it doesn‘t need some kind of major repairs.”
“Are you really sure you want to commit yourself to a rehab this major?”
“I’m sure if you’re sure,” Jeff said. “We’ll keep looking, of course, but if we decide that’s the house we want, then that’s the house we’ll get. You’re not afraid of a little hard work, are you?”
Kendra pulled the covers over her head. “Yes, I am,” she said. “I’m very, very afraid.”
He pulled the covers over his own head, sealing them both under the blankets and sheets, and pulled Kendra to him. “I’m really going to need your help on this, Kendra. Even though I’m the one who has the remodeling expertise and the home-buying experience, there’s no way I can pull off something like this alone.”
“I know,” she said. “Jeff, I’ll be right here to help you with whatever you need.”
“You’d better be,” he said teasingly, holding her hand and paying special attention to her engagement ring.
Jeff personally inspected the house from attic to basement, then had a meeting with a structural engineer. Over dinner that night, Jeff explained to Kendra what he’d found out about the house. “Is the structural damage bad?” she asked.
“It’s nothing that would make the house unlivable, but the engineer thinks it’s probably about $15,000 worth of repairs to correct everything. We‘ll know the exact number in a few days, when we get the engineer’s report.”
She spooned another helping of green beans onto her plate. “Then we’ll get Margot to call the seller’s agent and ask him to take $15,000 off the asking price.”
“That’s not how it works. Typically, we’d spilt the cost. Since our offer at $75,000 has already been accepted contingent upon the inspections, we would take off half of the $15,000, which would be $7500, and our new offer would be $67,500.”
“Could they really be willing to go that low?”
“By law, after the place has been inspected, the seller has to disclose all the findings to every potential buyer. He can’t hide these things, so nobody else is going to want this place. That’s how it works.”
“I’m glad you understand all of this,” Kendra said, sounding mystified.
“Are you sure this is what we want to do?” Jeff asked her. “I know we were looking for a handyman’s special, but these problems are serious. The house might be ready to fall apart.”
Kendra thought for a moment, then said, “Jeff, I think I love that house.”
“Should I be jealous?”
“I’m serious, Jeff. I’ve been thinking about what you said to Mom and Dad about waterfront property, and despite all of its problems, it’s in a great location. We haven’t seen anything better, Jeff. Let’s make that offer to the seller’s agent. I want this house.”
Jeff still had his doubts, but he could overlook them to make Kendra happy. He would’ve done anything to make her happy.
The seller’s agent balked at the structural engineer’s estimate. For the next week, Margot and Jeff battled it out with the seller’s agent while Kendra worked, listening from the sidelines. In the end, the seller and Margot agreed buyer and seller would split the difference on the repair costs. Jeff was right; they got it for the $67,500.
As he tried to sleep, Jeff wondered if he and Kendra had made a mistake signing the contract and agreeing to absorb some of the costs of those structural repairs. He asked himself if in his determination to make Kendra happy, he’d talked himself into doing something stupid. He had to face facts: she might be “in love” with this house, but at twenty-four years old, she’d never bought a house before. She’d never even lived away from her parents, except in the loft and her college dorms. He was the one with all the real estate experience; if this deal soured, everyone would blame him. Jeff couldn’t sleep; signing the contract had given him severe buyer’s remorse.
Four - Home Sweet Home
Jeff and Kendra lay in bed, exhausted but happy after making love. She didn’t go into the office until noon on Fridays, and they hesitated to get up and get dressed. They both groaned as the phone rang.
“Don’t answer it,” Kendra said. “Let ‘em leave a message.”
He considered it, but on the next ring, he said, “It could be a customer.” Jeff had an expression when the phone rang: “That’s the sound of money, either coming in or going out.”
He went around the corner to the living room and took the phone off the coffee table. ”Hello?”
“Hello. Jeff, this is Sal Marino from the credit union. The board and I have come to a decision on your financing.”
“You have?”
“Yes. We’ve decided to go ahead and let the financing go through, on the condition that you get the house rezoned.”
“Rezoned? What are you talking about?”
Sal said, “The house is zoned commercial, because the previous owner used it as a rental property, right? We need you to get it rezoned residential. Our credit union doesn’t finance commercial properties.”
“That’s no problem,” Jeff said. “We don’t need it as a commercial property anyway. Thanks, Sal.” He hung up.
Jeff was surprised to see Kendra standing there, wearing Jeff’s undershirt and nothing else. “Was it a customer?” she asked.
“No, it was the credit union. We have to have the house rezoned. They’ll only finance a residential property. I’ll have to call Margot and see who she knows to get it taken care of. She and her husband are big wigs with the local Republican Party; I’m sure they can expedite it.”
Jeff called Margot. He left a message on her voice mail, but she called him shortly after Jeff and Kendra got dressed. He explained the rezoning situation to her.
“I’ll make a few phone calls and get back with you,” Margot said.
She called back later that afternoon, while Jeff worked in the garage. “I talked with Elizabeth Montoya,” Margot said. “She’s a member of the town council. She says the docket is full for the next two meetings; they meet every two weeks. She’ll make sure it’s on the docket three meetings from now, though, so in a month in a half you’ll be able to get it rezoned.”
“But we’re supposed to close in two weeks.”
“I’m sorry, Jeff. That’s the best news I can give you right now.”
Jeff called Sal back. “It’s going to be a month and a half before I can have my house rezoned, Sal. I have to wait for the next town council meeting that doesn‘t already have a full docket. The seller isn’t going to rezone it for us. He’s afraid he’ll be stuck with a residential property if the sale doesn‘t go through, and he doesn’t want that. He‘s convinced the house has more value as a commercial property.”
“I’ll tell you what, Jeff: you give me your word you’ll get the house rezoned, and we’ll still go through with the closing on good faith. I’ve known Kendra since before she was born, literally. Candace and Wade Wilson have been coming to my credit union since they were newlyweds. I trust you, Jeff. And if I find out I can’t trust you, I know where to find you.” He laughed; Jeff laughed along.
Jeff called Margot again; this time she picked right up. “The closing date is still on,” he said.
“Good, because I’m tired of working on this piece of shit house,” Margot said. Jeff could understand where she was coming from; she was losing money every time the price of the property went down.
Anxiety prevailed for the next two weeks. Jeff and Kendra had the house appraised. The appraiser told Jeff, “I wouldn’t buy this house,” as he sat down on the couch left behind by the previous owner. Jeff and Kendra went up and down on an emotional roller coaster between elation and regret.
Two weeks later, at the closing meeting, the credit union loaned Kendra and Jeff eighty percent of the house’s $125,000 appraised value, $100,000. Minus the $67,500 they paid for the house and closing costs, they had a check for $32,500. They went immediately from the meeting room to the teller line with their check and deposited it in their joint checking account. As they sat in the van, Kendra stared at the receipt.
“I’ve never seen this much money before in my life,” she said. “Have you?”
“Don’t forget, I’ve bought houses before,” he said. “But, no, not this much.”
“Well, I haven’t either. I’ve never held anything that had this many zeroes before. I can’t believe you did this. I’m not sure I even understand how you did this, but I can’t believe you did!”
“We did this,” Jeff corrected her. “Don’t forget, Kendra, this is a team effort. I couldn‘t have done any of this without you.”
*****
About thirty citizens filled the folding chairs in front of the long table as Jeff went to have his house rezoned. A city council member read from a list of items up for discussion; the house on Cedar Street appeared ninth on the docket. Jeff waited to hear the chairman say, “Next item: should the house at 149 North Cedar Street be rezoned R-1, residential?”
Jeff stood up looking unsure of what to do. “Come up here to the microphone and explain your side of things.”
Jeff didn’t expect to have to speak much. He’d assumed the town council would already have all the facts in front of them. He stepped up the microphone sitting on a short stand on top of a lectern. He said, “I need to have my house rezoned.”
“Why?” one of the council members asked.
“Because the credit union says so,” Jeff explained. “It’s considered a commercial property now, but I’d like to have it rezoned R-2, so my fiancée and I could still rent out the upstairs.”
The council member at the end of the table looked interested. She was in her early 60s, though her stark-white hair stood out. She wore diamond stud earrings and a conservative tan jacket over a white blouse. “What is your name, sir?”
“Jeffrey Gray. My fiancée, Kendra Wilson, and I are the purchasers of this house. Kendra couldn’t be here with me tonight. She’s working late.”
“Mr. Gray,” the council member continued, “My name is Elizabeth Montoya. Not only do I represent District Four, in which 149 North Cedar Street is located, but I also live on Edgewater Drive, practically right across the street from you. I’ve been seeing improvements to the house on Cedar. Have you been doing those yourself?”
“Yes,” Jeff said. “I’m a professional remodeler, and I plan to restore the property as well as live in it.”
“I’m glad you’re going to live there yourself,” she said. “When it was a rental property, it attracted certain undesirables. I’m glad to see the place going into the hands of a professional who knows what he’s doing with it.”
“Thank you,” Jeff said.