Twenty-Nine
O livia, I’m not a real estate attorney. I don’t know what’s legal or not.”
“But surely they can’t just sell and not notify the renters.”
Scott sighed and gave up the ghost of trying to get any work done. Olivia wouldn’t leave until she got an answer. He picked up the agreement and scanned the contents. Everything looked in place.
Wait .
His gaze locked on the name of the company that was now the new owner of those buildings. It wasn’t the same name… not exactly. But it was similar enough. Too similar. There was no way it could just be a coincidence.
He pulled the file from his dad’s house out of the bag he used to carry work between the hotel and the bakery. and looked through the papers until he found the one he wanted.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.” Scott set the file down on the table and placed his hand on top of it. Like the sheets of paper could blow away by a gust of wind that would never be inside the bakery. “Can you get me the agreements from everyone still on Main Street and those who closed down in the past few months because of rent hikes?”
“Yes. But it will cost you.”
“Olivia! I’m trying to help you.”
“What’s in the folder.”
“I told you. Nothing.”
“These sales and transfers had help, right? Help from someone who could pass things through the town council?”
Olivia’s question was more of an answer, but it also opened the door to so many more questions. Questions Scott wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to. Except not wanting differed from needing. All the investigators delivered so far were paper trails. They couldn’t give him a reason. Olivia might have a reason for him. Not that it would make what his father had done any better.
“What do you know and how do you know it.
For the next few hours, their heads were bent together in a quiet conversation while Scott catalogued what Olivia knew and compared it to what he had discovered. She wasn’t far off. The only thing missing from her narrative was the details such as the who. They both didn’t have a why just yet. But Scott would eventually find the answer, no matter how long it took.
As their friends trickled in, Olivia eventually moved to the front room to sit with them. Scott remained in the back seating area and wrapped up his work for the day but joined them just after Lauren closed.
Even though the bakery was supposed to close at 4:00 PM, the lights were still on, and the door was still open at 6:30 PM. At some point since Scott came back to Iron Creek, they’d begun hanging out at the bakery instead of at a bar or restaurant or one of their houses. A few locals came in for a last-minute loaf of bread or a treat for a well-behaved child, but it was usually just the friends who loitered in the bakery. Scott found comfort in the camaraderie, but his worries weren’t theirs and theirs weren’t his.
Jarold’s mutiny bothered him, and he struggled to focus on the surrounding conversation.
“Well, someone had to have their palm greased. The council swore up and down they wouldn’t let Brand Mart within town limits, but it broke ground after the first thaw.”
“If Brand Mart didn’t come here, it would have to any of the other towns around here. The council caved because Brand Mart in Iron Creek was better than Brand Mart in Pine Point.”
“Did you ever wonder how all these little towns got their names? Iron Creek, Pine Point, Beaver River, Eagle Bluff?”
“Whoever was traveling through at the time named them. A mark on a map that eventually became permanent.”
“We can’t do anything about Brand Mart. That’s a closed book. What I want to know is how all these sales and transfers happened with the owners of the buildings right under the nose of the council?”
“Scott?” Olivia interrupted Scott’s thoughts about Jarold and his rebellion and brought him to the present.
“Hm?”
“Trent asked how the council let the sales and transfers happen unchecked.”
He wasn’t sure if she was throwing him under the bus or giving him an opportunity to confess all. But from the surly expressions on his friends’ faces, neither was a good option.
If any of his father’s skeletons came out of the closet, everyone in the room would hate him. And he wouldn’t blame them. Maybe it would be better to return to the city before the shit hit the fan.