Dead End Street (17 page)

I was surprised that Wakeman called me back within an hour: this was one busy man, and we didn't exactly know each other well. But I had done him a huge favor earlier in the year, by clearing the way for a project that was dear to his heart, one that went beyond money. He knew about causes. Still, I felt mildly embarrassed because he had already done so much for the Society.

“Nell—glad you're not dead,” he said. Abrupt as always.

“Why, thank you, Mitchell. How kind of you to notice.”

He made a huffing noise that might have been a laugh. “What do you want now?”

“I want to save the neighborhoods of Philadelphia. No, that's sort of a joke, so let me ask for something simpler. As a hypothetical, what would it take to get regional
developers—or, heck, any developers—on board with a neighborhood initiative in the city?”

“You're not asking me to get involved, are you?”

“No, I wouldn't do that—you've done enough. And I've already figured out that such a project could be toxic to anybody. This is purely hypothetical. What would it take to get them to step up and find a way to help, uh, distressed neighborhoods?”

He thought for a few moments. I waited. Finally he said, “Money, of course. You've got to show that they'd at least break even. Or if they lose money, that they'll get some other city project that'll make up for it. Yeah, that's kind of hard to arrange, at least publicly. But doing it because it's the noble thing to do isn't going to cut it.”

“Understood. Anything else?”

“Get the press behind the project. Make the developers look good.”

“Already working on that. What else?”

“They won't bite off more than they can chew. If they make big promises and can't deliver, they'll look like fools. Never a good idea. Keep the project—or the first one, if you're thinking long-term—a manageable size that can be completed in a reasonable amount of time.”

“Does that mean looking for a small, hungry developer or group, or a big one that wants to add a dash of prestige or public service to its portfolio?”

“Could go either way. If somebody wants to put together a group, to spread the risk, make sure they play well together. We don't want them squabbling in public or holding things up.”

Like I could do that: he was the only developer I knew on a personal basis. “Can you give me names of companies that would be interested, potentially? I know I can go through the phone book, but you know these people and what they're really like.”

A longer pause this time. “Let me think about that. What're you doing in the middle of this, anyway?”

“The Society still owns a property in North Philadelphia. That's why I was there last Monday.”

“Huh. Most people would walk away and not look back.”

“I can't, Mitchell. Not now; not after what happened.”

Mitchell Wakeman was silent for a few moments. Finally he said, “I'll get back to you. Good talking with you—stay out of the line of fire, will you?” He hung up.

I wasn't offended by his abruptness. Mitchell Wakeman might lack a few social graces, and he didn't tolerate fools, but he was smart, connected, and one of the all-around good guys. And if he said he'd get back to me, he would.

After I'd replaced the phone, I looked up to see Alice Price standing in my doorway, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. “Eric said you were free?” she ventured.

“I am. Come in, sit down. What's up? You're leaving? You've gotten a job running a major museum in some exotic foreign country?” Alice was one of the brightest interns we had ever had, at least as long as I'd been with the Society. She had graduated from college but was taking some time off to consider her options, and we were lucky that she had decided to do it under our roof. But I knew that once she made up her mind she'd be gone.

Alice laughed as she sat down. “That's how you see me? I'm flattered. But no to both of those, at least for the moment. I'll let you know if things change. Right now I want to talk about Uncle Edward.”

I was surprised, yet not, since it was Uncle Edward who had suggested her for the job. “I could play dumb and ask you why, but I'm pretty sure you'd see through that. Has Marty talked to you about the Oliver house?”

“I've talked to her. I think we're on the same page, no matter who started it. But can we take a step back and talk about that other thing you proposed? Let me see if I've got this right: you want the Society to engage in an ongoing research project to assemble evidence of the lost neighborhoods of Philadelphia as they once were.”

“In a nutshell, yes.” I stopped and waited, because I was sure she had more.

“I'm sure you've reviewed all the efforts in the past to save or revitalize those neighborhoods.”

“Let's say I'm a quick study, after last week. I've done some research, yes.”

Alice nodded her head. “I can see that what happened might give you a more personal stake in the matter. I'm glad you're all right.”

“Thank you. So am I. So why have you come to me now?”

“You asked for input from the staff, and that's why I'm here. I don't mean to offend you, but it seems to me that addressing this problem requires more than research, more than money, more than goodwill on the part of a lot of well-meaning people.”

“Yes, I agree. Are you leading up to something?”

“Marty and I talked briefly about all of this. She was being very cautious, I guess you could say, but we both think that Uncle Edward could play a part in this.”

I sighed. “There are so many ways to respond to that statement, Alice. Let's start at the beginning. We hired you because Edward Perkins hinted there might be some financial benefit if we did. I hope you know that if you had been a galloping idiot we would not have hired you, under any circumstances. But you're not, and you have been a real asset to the Society, and if you were to leave tomorrow I'd write a glowing letter of recommendation to anyone who asks. And, as I'm sure you know, your uncle kept his part in the unstated bargain and made a nice contribution to the Society. Our mutual slates are clean, so to speak. He has always been a good member here, and I wouldn't presume to ask anything out of the ordinary from him.”

“I understand. But what if there was an arrangement that would benefit everyone involved?”

“How do you define
everyone
?”

“Uncle Edward, the Society, the City, the development community, and probably a few others I haven't thought of yet.”

“Why are you bringing this to me? Or rather, why you rather than your uncle?”

“As you may have noticed, Uncle Edward is rather fond of me.”

I knew that Edward Perkins had no children of his own,
and that he had taken a special interest in Alice's future. But I had no idea what kind of influence Alice could wield over him, nor did I want to ask her to use it. “Alice, I don't want you to sweet-talk your uncle into something based on his affection for you.”

“Nell, my uncle is a shrewd man, and he's not a pushover. He wouldn't do anything just because I asked, not without thoroughly investigating the idea. And he has been known to say no, even to me. But if there was a good idea that he was not aware of, and if I presented it to him in the right light, I'm sure he would consider it. The answer might still be no, but he will have given it some thought first.”

“And you want to approach him about this neighborhoods project?” I asked.

“I think I can. But only if you approve. I know he's supported the Society in the past, in a variety of ways, but this particular subject might not appeal to him.”

“You're a lot younger than he is. Do you think this makes sense?”

She nodded. “I do. The Society is a great institution, but it hasn't exactly moved with the times. It would help you if you looked more, well, relevant in the twenty-first century.”

I sighed. She was right, and what she was saying was what I had already said to myself, one way or another. “You haven't talked to your uncle about this yet?”

“No, not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. I didn't want to overstep.”

“When were you planning to approach him?”

“Soon, I think. Uncle Edward is not getting any younger.”

I thought for a moment. It seemed vaguely distasteful to encourage Alice to approach her uncle Edward. Such an approach should come from me, or from the board. But Alice had come to me and volunteered, and I knew he would listen to her. “Alice, you scare me. You sure you aren't a forty-year-old in a twenty-five-year-old body?”

“My mother keeps saying that. No, I'm just smart. And observant. I know that scares some people. But I'm here at the Society now, and I'm happy to volunteer whatever capabilities I have to help.”

“Thank you for offering, Alice.” I fought an urge to hug her—I guess I was still overemotional. “I wish I could say I had a plan, but I've only been thinking about this for a week, you know. And I don't want to offend your uncle. He's been more than generous with us.”

“I can make it clear that approaching him was my own idea, which is true. And I can tell him to talk with you. I'll go away now and let you think—I won't say anything unless you approve. Thank you for listening.” Alice stood up.

“Alice, I'm the one who should be thanking you. You are an amazing young woman.”

Alice just smiled, and left quickly. And, per her instructions, I sat and thought. Tyrone and his wife were on board (I needed to read what she'd given me). I had talked to Wakeman about the construction aspect of the problem,
and he might possibly come up with some cooperative developers (it was too much to hope that he'd put his own company in the mix). Alice thought her uncle might consider financial support; did that mean that Marty and I should set up a meeting with him quickly? I ought to talk to Marty about what we should or could ask for—she knew him better than I did.

Could we have something like a proposal cobbled together in time for the board meeting this week? Unlikely. Maybe I should touch base with Eliot again, although obviously Marty had already spoken with him. I wanted to draw a flowchart, showing who knew what and whom and how they could help. Should I go after someone at the City? Who had been Cherisse's boss, and did I know him or her? Did Marty or Eliot? Or should I throw caution to the wind and tackle the mayor? I didn't know him personally, but maybe some board members did.

Could I go home yet? I felt like I'd done a full day's work, and it wasn't even lunchtime. As if my list weren't already long enough, the phone rang, and Eric announced, “It's your detective.”

“Thanks, Eric.” I took a breath. I had no idea what she wanted. If she was going to tell me she was definitely off the case, I wouldn't be surprised. I picked up the phone.

“Detective, how are you today?”

“We've got the shooter.”

That I hadn't expected. “What? Who? How?” I sputtered.

“Local street thug, too dumb to dump the weapon. Used it in another shooting, but he didn't get away this time.”

“Is he, uh, dead?”

“You kidding? You read the papers, watch the news? We of the city police are very careful to avoid killing any suspects, although we may injure them a bit. Our suspect is now chained to a hospital bed and has demanded a lawyer.”

“Is he known to the police?”

“Only in a general way. We have not yet determined why he would have shot at the three of you on the street last week.”

That sounded like it came from a departmental press release, not Meredith Hrivnak. “Maybe it was a case of mistaken identity? Does Tyrone resemble any known drug dealers? Or does he have a brother in a gang?”

“Nope, Tyrone's clean. We'll see what the guy we arrested tells his lawyer. Thought you'd like to know.”

“Thank you. So I don't need to come by and identify him?”

“Nope, we don't need you.”

Should I be insulted?
No, I decided. “Oh, have you told Tyrone yet?”

“Yeah, I called him first. He claims he doesn't know the guy.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Don't have any reason not to. We'll do a background check on the kid, but a heck of a lot of people pass through that neighborhood, and most of the time they don't leave a trail. He could be local, or not.”

“Well, thanks again. It makes me feel better to know he's off the street.”

“You're welcome.” The detective hung up. I seemed to be talking to a lot of people who rationed their words. At least it was efficient.

I thought for a moment about calling James and decided against it. He couldn't obtain any more information about the arrest, and I wouldn't ask him to anyway. I'd tell him when I saw him later.

Maybe it was time to talk to Shelby again, and find out what we had in our files about Edward Perkins. I knew in a general way where he ranked among our supporters, but I didn't have the details at my fingertips, and I hadn't needed them when we hired Alice. I had been honest with her: she was a smart young woman and would no doubt have her pick of jobs when she left us, as I was sure she would. I might as well make use of her kind offer while I could.

I headed out of my office and down the hall, where I found Shelby scrabbling among piles of paper on her desk. She looked up when I walked in and said, “Oh, thank goodness! Please say you're giving me an excuse to stop doing this?” She waved at all the papers.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to write a summary of the project funded by the last federal grant we received. I doubt you remember it—we got it about five years ago, and now we have to do a final accounting or they'll never, ever give us money again. Hence the paperwork.”

I dropped into a chair across from her. “That's the
government for you. My request is simpler, and no doubt will give you a great sense of accomplishment so you can go back to this other thing.”