Manny Acevedo enjoyed a quiet, comfortable life with his wife and two children in a small, south suburban town called Hazel Crest, about a twenty-five-minute drive from the city. He was a former long-haul truck driver before the hours away from his family became too challenging, and then he landed a job at one of the popular private car services. He had gotten a last-minute airport call almost ten years ago for a passenger whose regular driver had fallen ill. Manny reluctantly took the call, and it was a decision that would change his life. That passenger was Elliott Kantor, one of the richest men in the city.
“Thanks for meeting with me,” I said as I took a seat in a chair across from Manny. He wore a loose-fitting black suit and open-collared white dress shirt. His thick black eyebrows were a perfect match for his heavy mop of hair that looked like it had been recently brushed but was refusing to cooperate. I couldn’t help but notice his eyes. They were a deep blue.
“Simon said it was important I speak with you,” Manny said.
“I’m just looking for some answers,” I said. “You worked for Elliott Kantor for ten years.”
“And a week,” Manny said. “The night he died, it had been exactly ten years and a week to the day.”
“You kept track that closely. Impressive.”
“Mr. Kantor changed my life,” Manny said. “He was the best boss I’ve ever had. I’m very grateful for what he did for me and my family.”
“You were a limo driver before that, right?”
“I was. Five years. The hours were tough, but it was a better job than being on the road, driving a truck and missing my kids grow up.”
“What was your schedule with Elliott?”
“Monday to Friday, four o’clock to midnight. Weekends I drove him as needed, but I shared it with Olag, who drove the day shift.”
“What were Olag’s hours?”
“Six to four,” Manny said. “Olag picked him up early in the morning and drove him all day. I took over in the afternoon and drove him around at night.”
“He was a busy man,” I said.
“Super busy. Mr. Kantor was very important, but I don’t need to tell you that. He also liked to be busy. He didn’t like sitting at home. My father was the same way. He never knew how to just relax. Always on the go.”
“What kept him so busy?”
“My father?”
“I was referring to Mr. Kantor, but you can tell me about your father if you’d like.”
“My father put in driveways for a living,” Manny said. “Big commercial lots, small residential driveways, he did them all. He worked long hours when the weather was good; then, when it was raining or snowing and the crew couldn’t work, he’d find other things to do that had him out all day. He could never rest, but he took care of us and made sure we had everything we needed. He was a great provider.”
“And Elliott Kantor?”
“Similar, but with a lot more money,” Manny said. “That’s what I liked about him. He was never afraid to work, and he enjoyed doing it. He liked to provide for his family and friends. He was generous to a fault.”
“Did you ever travel with him when he went on his business trips?”
“Maybe a couple of times, but it was rare. He traveled alone.”
“None of his assistants went with him?”
“Not very often. They set everything up for him, but they rarely traveled with him. He liked to go alone and have someone meet him on the other end. That’s just how he liked to do it.”
“What about the place in the Bahamas?”
“I went there once,” Manny said. “He invited me and my family to go down there for spring break. It was the best trip we ever had. My wife had never been out of the country. He really took care of us. We stayed in our own house on the estate. We had people waiting on us hand and foot. He treated us like we were family. It meant a lot to us.”
I looked out the window, toward the northern part of the lake. I could see the hundred-foot-tall clock tower on Northwestern’s campus rise out of the blanket of green treetops. At night, they would sometimes light up the four clockfaces with a purple light, the school’s official color and that of their mascot, the wildcat.
“What kind of social life did Elliott have?” I asked.
“What do you mean by social life?” Manny said. “Events and dinners?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of female company,” I said.
Manny’s face tightened a little. “Are you asking about women?”
“That’s typically what female means,” I said. I smiled, as if we were both in on the joke.
“Mr. Kantor had company sometimes,” he said.
“Would you mind elaborating?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I’d like to know what kind of company he had. Girlfriend? Girlfriends?”
Manny moved uneasily in his seat.
“I’m not comfortable talking about Mr. Kantor’s private life,” he said. “He was my boss. He treated my family well. What he did privately is none of my business.”
I understood his reluctance. I also understood that he knew things that others didn’t.
“Did you know where Elliott died?” I asked.
“At his house,” Manny said.
“Which one?”
“Kenilworth.”
“Guess again.”
His eyes widened. The shock was genuine.
“Elliott Kantor died in his Lincoln Park apartment,” I said.
“This is the first I’m hearing of this.”
“And I don’t think he died from a heart attack due to old age. I think someone killed him.”
“Killed him?” Manny said, leaning forward, his eyes tightening.
“Yes.”
“Killed him how?”
“I’d rather not get into that right now, but let’s just say I have good reason to believe he was killed, and I have a good idea how they did it. My job is to find out who did it and why. So I need you to tell me what you know, even if you think it might be embarrassing to your former boss or his family.”
Manny took in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. He closed his eyes, then opened them and looked out the windows, toward the lake. A large yacht slid across the horizon.
“Mr. Kantor was an older man, but he was still a man,” Manny said. “He liked women, and they liked him. He didn’t have anyone who was his girlfriend. He liked different girls. He took care of them and treated them well. They had fun.”
“How many girls?”
Manny shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. I only drove three or four of them, and I didn’t drive them often.”
“Do you know their names?”
“Some of them. Serena, Roxanne, and I think one was called Maribel. There was another girl. She was from Vietnam or somewhere in Asia. I forgot her name.”
“What kind of girls were they?”
“Very beautiful.”
“Young?”
“Late twenties, early thirties.”
“Did you ever see him party with them?”
“I always stayed in the car, waiting for him,” Manny said. “I never went inside.”
“Where did they go?”
“Restaurants, bars, sometimes a nightclub, but not often. The Asian girl always wanted him to go to the nightclubs. He would go, but only with her.”
“You ever see Elliott do drugs in the car?”
“Drugs?”
“You heard me correctly.”
“Never! Elliott drank when he went out, but he wasn’t into drugs.”
“How about the girls?”
“I never saw them do drugs either.”
“Even though you didn’t see them do anything, did they strike you as women who might do drugs? You know, get high every once in a while?”
“I can’t say for sure. They were pretty and young and in the scene. Lots of kids do drugs these days. If they were doing it, I guess I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Take me back to the night he died,” I said. “What happened?”
“I arrived at the office building a little before four,” Manny said. “The front entrance of the building is on Michigan, right near the Apple store. But the rear entrance is on the basement level that lets out on lower Wacker. I always waited for him in the loading dock. Someone from the office would call and let me know what time he was heading down to the car so I’d be ready for him. He got in just after five. His oldest grandson, Lucas, had asked Mr. Kantor to get some Garrett Popcorn. So we drove down to the store on Ohio and picked up a bucket of the Chicago Mix. My wife loves the cheese and caramel, so he bought an extra bucket for me to take home. His dinner meeting that night wasn’t until eight, so he had a couple of hours to kill. He decided to go over to the Bulls’ practice facility and watch some of the players who were still in town shoot around. He loved sports and hanging out with the players and coaches.”
“Did you go into the practice also?”
“No, I stayed in the car and waited for him. About seven thirty, he came out, and we drove over to RPM Steak. He was having dinner with Mr. Min, who had flown in from China. Mr. Min liked American steak. They ate, and when they were done, Mr. Kantor got back in the car.”
“Do you remember what time it was?”
“Just after nine thirty.”
“How are you so sure?”
“Because my alarm went off at nine thirty. Every weeknight, I have my alarm set for that time, so I remember to call and say good night to my kids. I had just finished speaking to them and my wife when he walked out of the restaurant. He got in the car, and I headed over to the expressway to take him up to Kenilworth.”
“Wait, so he had planned on going to his estate that night?”
“Definitely. He hadn’t planned on staying in the city.”
“So, what changed?”
“He got a call. Had a quick conversation, then told me he wanted to spend the night in the city. I got off the expressway and headed over to the apartment. I asked him if he needed me to pick up anything from the store, since sometimes he wanted snacks or drinks and might not have had anything in the refrigerator at the apartment. He said he didn’t need anything, so I drove straight there and dropped him off.”
“I noticed in the surveillance video that he seemed to be waving you off when he was getting out of the SUV and you were trying to help him.”
“He always did that.” Manny laughed softly. “He didn’t like being helped. He said it made him feel old, and he wasn’t old yet. I still offered to help, because sometimes he might have had a little too much to drink and his balance wouldn’t be that good. One time, he fell getting out and almost hit his head. Ever since then, I always tried to help him get out of the car when I knew he had been drinking.”
What Manny described perfectly matched what I had seen in the video, and I could imagine Kantor responding in that way. I could also tell by the way Manny spoke that Kantor was more than just someone who signed his checks. Manny genuinely cared about Kantor and had probably spent more time with him than Kantor’s own children had. I had come to learn over the years, after dealing with many wealthy people, that while their staff had been hired to serve, they also doubled as confidants—always around, often hearing and seeing things that weren’t even shared with family members.
Learning of Elliott’s last-minute change to stay in the city forced me to reconsider my hypothesis that his murder was premeditated by someone who knew his schedule well in advance to coordinate his murder and set up the scene as if his death had been an accidental overdose or sexual play gone too far. This reintroduced the real possibility that Elliott wasn’t murdered at all. He just got unlucky with dirty drugs that overwhelmed his tired heart.
“Do you think it was that call that changed his mind to stay in the city?” I asked.
“Definitely,” Manny said. “Had he not gotten the call, he would’ve gone home.”
“Do you know who called him?”
“Yes. They’ve talked many times. I’ve never met him before, but I know his name. Monroe. He’s a lawyer.”
Could this be a coincidence? Jenny Lee’s Maserati was registered to an LLC, and the managing agent was Monroe Connelly, partner in an overpriced law firm.
“Do you know Monroe’s last name?” I asked.
“Never forget it,” Manny said. “Every time I hear or see it, I think of the mystery writer. It’s Connelly. My wife has read all of his books.”