Chapter 43

Up in Flames

Ellen felt the blood drain from her face, knowing full well Victor already knew the answers to his questions about Lisa and Patrick.

“Patrick and I had a long talk today,” Victor said. “Seems you were pretty busy the day of the earthquake.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Ellen, crossing her legs and concentrating on staying calm.

Victor raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Oh, really? Patrick told me how your fixer posed as a DEA agent to intimidate George Green, a respected member of the Portland business community, in his own home.”

“George Green, respected? Please.”

“Then there’s your illegal search of Sheila Elkins’s Airstream trailer.”

“We entered the trailer because a massive Douglas fir had crushed it like a tin can. She was dying. We had to help her. Finding ten kilos of cocaine was pure coincidence. And I don’t need to remind you that we saved Patrick’s life too.”

“He was only in that trailer with her because you coerced him into illegally recording their conversation.”

“I don’t know why he was there. Regardless, Sheila could wake up from her coma at any time. And then she and I are going to have a long conversation about who was really running the food cart drug ring.”

“Right. Too bad about Sheila’s coma. It’s nice of you to keep checking up on her. All those calls to the intensive care ward. Everyone at the hospital talks about how interested Mayor Salder is in poor Sheila. How you call her doctor four or five times a day. I have a few buddies at the hospital too, you know. They might not be fancy doctors, but they’re well informed and happy to keep me up-to-date on the condition of my former employee.”

“She’s under round-the-clock police guard,” said Ellen with a warning in her voice.

“Of course she is,” Victor said flatly.

Ellen clearly heard the threat in Victor’s tone. “So you admit that Sheila worked for you.”

“Of course. She managed my parking garages as an employee of All Star. Her extracurricular activities were her own business. You know, Sheila was at the parking garage the day they found your husband shot dead. Just a few blocks from here. Such a tragedy. My wife, she’s still getting over it.”

“You’re going to cross a line pretty soon, Victor.”

“By the way, I met her today.”

“Who?”

“Your daughter. Lisa. Beautiful girl. She was all chummy with George Green. Seems like they’re quite intimate.” Victor smiled at Ellen’s obvious discomfort. “I always heard she was a hellion.”

“Keep my daughter out of it,” said Ellen.

“I wish I could,” said Victor helplessly. “But that’s just not going to be possible, because the tastiest morsel Patrick shared was how you helped your daughter dodge a potential prostitution charge.”

Ellen froze. That stupid boy.

“I see you’re getting the picture. There are going to be some changes. You forget this run for governor, and I rebuild Portland the way I want to.”

“I will run for whatever office I choose. And we had an agreement about the contracts; I stay out of your way as long as you rebuild according to my specifications.”

“There’s no more we. I’m tired of your meddling, and I’m done putting up with your LEED certification bullshit, your green roofs and bike lanes. It’s cutting into my profits. This is my town. I just let you live in it—for now.”

She held her ground. “You don’t have any proof. Just the lies of a troubled boy.”

Victor stood and stepped uncomfortably close to Ellen, looming over her. “You’ll see soon enough. It won’t take much. You’re on such a high horse that pushing you off is easy. I’m so low in the dirt that I can get away with anything.”

Victor took a last sip of his scotch, then threw the drink in the fire, the dregs of liquor flaring with the crash of breaking glass.

Alarmed by the sound, the bartender rushed into the library.

As Victor strode out of the room, he said in passing to the man, “You can put that on the mayor’s bill too. And give yourself a nice tip.”