It wasn’t long before a sleek black Lexus sedan pulled up in front of Golden Horizons and Philip Connell emerged from the backseat. He hurried to the main entrance, where he encountered Muntz and Bauer. He tried to step around them and enter the building. They stopped him.

“What do you think you’re doing,” Connell said.

“May we please see some identification, sir,” Muntz said.

“I own this place,” Connell said, and attempted to muscle his way past Muntz.

Once again, the two officers blocked his way.

“ID, please,” Muntz said.

“Move, asshole,” Connell said to Muntz. “I already told you that I’m the owner.”

Muntz didn’t say anything. Infuriated, Connell made the mistake of trying to push him out of his way. Muntz gave a little ground when Connell shoved him, but he managed to move slightly to his left and place his right leg behind Connell’s. Then he put his right arm on Connell’s chest, hip-checked him, and swept him over his leg. Connell went crashing to the floor.

It was then that Jesse stepped through the door, followed by Marty Reagan.

Noticing him, Connell said, “Just what do you think you’re doing, Stone?”

Jesse reached out to help Connell to his feet, but he refused the assistance. He stood and brushed himself off.

“Answer me,” Connell said.

“These buildings have been officially condemned.”

“Rest assured that my lawyers will have something to say about that.”

“Perhaps you might be better served if your lawyers concerned themselves with assisting in the resettlement of the residents.”

“Are you trying to tell me my business, Stone?”

“Not at all. From the look of things, you appear to be doing an excellent job of that all by yourself.”

“You haven’t heard the last of me,” Connell said to Jesse.

“No doubt.”

“You’ll be sorry you ever met me, Stone.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll pay for this. Big-time.”

“Is that some kind of a threat, Mr. Connell,” Jesse said.

“Take it as you choose.”

Jesse turned to Marty Reagan, who was standing behind him.

“Did you hear that, Marty,” he said.

“I did hear that.”

“Sounded like a threat to me.”

“It did to me, too.”

Jesse turned to Dave Muntz.

“Arrest this man,” he said.

“Now you’re going to arrest me,” Connell shouted.

“For threatening a police officer,” Jesse said.

“You know what, Stone? Fuck you.”

“Dave,” Jesse said.

Muntz removed the handcuffs from his service belt and snapped them onto Connell’s wrists. Then he took firm hold of Connell’s right arm and forcibly pushed him in the direction of his cruiser. He opened the left rear door of the car and, still holding Connell’s arm, guided him into it. Instead of protecting Connell’s head when he was entering the car, however, Muntz slammed it into the door frame.

“Jesus,” Connell said, glowering at Muntz.

“Oops,” Muntz said.

Connell glanced back at Jesse.

“This isn’t over,” he said.

“Anyone taking bets on that,” Jesse said.