A Billionaire's Secret Baby - Chapter 18

In hindsight, it was probably a good thing that the police arrested me. If I hadn’t been then I would probably have dived into the burning building, to try and put out the fire.

Luckily, everyone was safe. The only people there had been Gabriel and another cook, who were preparing to serve the wedding banquet, and a couple of servers. They’d gotten out in time.

I found myself in another interrogation room in the local precinct, only this time, my wrists really were cuffed to the table. Opposite me, two detectives were sitting. I had at least ten years on both of them, and they were trying to play hardball with me. Only it wasn’t working one bit. They’d been at it since the afternoon and now it must be getting dark outside.

“You know where your fusebox is, Alex?”

“Of course I do,” I replied. I could smell the smoke in my clothes. “It’s in an alcove on the ground floor.”

“Right,” said the detective. “That’s where the fire started. I spoke to the Marshall half an hour ago. He told me there was no way it was a kitchen accident. Place went up in about ten minutes.”

“So it didn’t start in the kitchen,” I said. “So what?”

“We know you’re up for fraud,” said the other cop. “And we know someone got to that fusebox. Were you hoping you could claim for the insurance on it?”

But I simply looked at the floor.

“You’d better start talking,” said one of the detectives.

“You wouldn’t understand,” I said, and shook my head. I’d given up. At this point, they could do what they wanted. I’d lost everything, and I was feeling mighty stung about it.

Just then, the door to the interrogation room opened. “Boss wants to talk to you,” said a duty cop.

The detectives looked at one another warily, and stood up. They went out.

I hadn’t been alone since I’d watched The Blue Orchid burn down, but I found myself choking down tears now that I was. My entire body wanted to explode with rage, with sorrow. That place had meant everything to me. And it was gone. All gone.

Time passed, half an hour, an hour maybe, before I buried my head in my hands. I made up my mind to confess—to tell them I’d burned down the place I loved the most in the world. Just to spite myself, just to spite them. What was justice, where was the law? Justice was supposed to be about protecting the innocent. And here I was, being treated like a guilty man.

“Sulking ain’t gonna get you out of here. So how about you just take a breath and hear me out.”

I looked up, and turned around, the handcuffs scraping at my wrists as I did. My eyes watered with the pain, and I looked up, into the grizzled face of Russell O’Rourke.

***

“Nineteen times,” said the detective. “Nineteen times I’ve called Luca Desilva. He’s been mysteriously unavailable since he reported you to the NYPD for fraud.”

“Where is he?” I said.

“Who knows. My bet is that he’s not skipped town, just lying low. Probably got a bolthole. We know from the accounts your guys gave us that he was skimming, ten, maybe twenty grand a month from your operation.”

“How did you find that out?”

“Simple. I ordered him under investigation when you told me a few weeks ago. I got his credit card records. He scammed you for expenses. Fake invoices, fake receipts.”

“So arrest him,” I said.

“I can’t arrest him if I don’t know where he is,” said O’Rourke. “And right now, the DA wants me to spin it like this: you and Luca were committing financial malpractice.”

“But I fired him! Surely they don’t think we’re working together!”

“I tried to get him to believe that. He thinks maybe it’s a setup. So I need to know anything. Anything at all that can help me join the dots between this fire—” O’Rourke slid forward a photograph of the ashy interior, “and this man,” sliding forward a picture of Luca.

I thought. I thought hard for a moment.

Then, I looked up into O’Rourke’s gray, emotionless eyes.

“The insurance policy,” I said. “It’s in his name.”

“In his name?”

“He said he could get us a good deal. He was always doing that. Getting good deals. It insures the building for three times its real estate value in the event of a fire.”

“And Mr. Desilva’s name is on the form?”

“Yeah. I mean, it must be. I never signed it.”

“How can we prove that?”

“You can get a copy from my accountant.”

O’Rourke nodded. Then, he looked at me.

“I want you to listen very carefully,” he said. “You are not safe in this city.”

“What?” New York was my home. “That’s crazy. I can pay for whatever security I like.”

“I don’t care. And I’m not going to go looking for this insurance policy. Not yet. You know why that is?”

My voice was hoarse as I replied. “Because he forged my birth certificate.”

“Allegedly, yes. And I need time to make Luca move. And for that, I need you to be safe. If I act while you’re in the city, he might do something dangerous. He has the keys to your businesses. Don’t forget that. And do what I tell you to do now.”

“Go on,” I said. My heart was pounding. I had to get out of here, and fast.

“Do you have somewhere you can go?”

“My lake house. It’s upstate, on the Finger Lakes.”

“Go there. Lie low for two, maybe three days. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t go anywhere. I’ll come and get you when I can.”

“This is crazy,” I said. “I have work. My restaurant just burned to the ground. I can’t run away now.”

“You’ve made enough money this year. I’m trying to make sure you’re still alive tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I said, frustratedly.

“And, Alex?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sure you’re aware that you’ve technically not committed marriage fraud. But you’re going to take Mrs. Lowe with you. As the legal heir to your fortune, she’s at just as much risk as you are.”