Chapter 6 - THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE PROPERTY DEEDS|
The first thing I noticed when we arrived at the apartment building was the woman standing outside with a suitcase.
She looked about seventy-five.
Her gray hair was tucked beneath a knitted blue hat.
Beside her stood two cardboard boxes containing photographs, medicine bottles, and a small ceramic angel.
Her name was Teresa Alvarez.
She had lived in the building for thirty-eight years.
"Are you the people from the management company?" she asked nervously.
"No, ma'am," I answered.
"I'm Claire Bennett."
"I work for the Moretti family."
Her expression immediately changed.
"Then please tell Mr. Moretti I paid my rent."
My chest tightened.
"Of course you did."
Teresa opened her purse and removed a bundle of receipts.
"I've never missed a payment."
"Not when my husband was sick."
"Not after he died."
"Not even when the elevator broke for three weeks."
She looked toward Luca, who had just stepped out of the car.
"Why are you making us leave?"
Luca stared at the receipts in her hand.
"I'm not."
She shook her head.
"That's what the letter says."
He took the notice and read it.
His jaw tightened.
"Mrs. Alvarez, my family did not authorize this."
"Then who did?"
For several seconds, he couldn't answer.
Finally, he looked at her.
"Someone who believes your home is nothing more than a number on a balance sheet."
Other tenants began gathering around us.
Some were angry.
Others looked frightened.
An elderly man explained that he had already begun searching for another apartment.
A retired nurse said she couldn't afford moving expenses.
A younger woman held a folder of correspondence and asked whether anyone intended to repair the leaking ceiling in her kitchen.
Luca listened to every complaint.
I watched him realize that his family name carried a responsibility he had allowed other people to manage for years.
Frank insisted on coming inside.
Rafael helped him up the entrance steps.
When Teresa recognized the elderly man, she burst into tears.
"Mr. Frank!"
He embraced her.
"Teresa, how's that beautiful granddaughter of yours?"
"She's married now."
Frank smiled.
"Then I really am getting old."
The tenants laughed softly.
It was the first moment of warmth I had felt since the nightmare began.
Then Teresa showed us another letter.
It contained a photograph of a man standing in the building's lobby with a briefcase.
"He came here last week," she explained.
"He said he was the new owner's representative."
"He told me old people should be grateful when someone offers them an easier place to live."
Frank's expression changed.
"That man."
He pointed at the photograph.
"That's Elias."
Luca examined the picture.
The silver-haired man wore the same gold ring we had seen in Margaret's photograph.
But Teresa had noticed something else.
"He used a different name when he came back."
She reached into her coat pocket and removed a business card.
Daniel Mercer.
Property Transition Consultant.
Luca turned the card over.
A handwritten telephone number appeared on the back.
Detective Serrano photographed it for the investigation.
Then Teresa said something unexpected.
"He wasn't alone."
"Who was with him?" I asked.
"A younger man carrying a black folder."
"They argued in the lobby."
"The younger one said he wouldn't put his professional seal on anything he hadn't witnessed."
Evelyn, who had joined us, went completely still.
"Did you hear his name?"
Teresa thought for a moment.
"Kline."
"That's what the older man called him."
Evelyn immediately took out her phone.
"Peter Kline is the notary whose seal appears on several suspicious agreements."
Luca looked toward the street.
"Can we find him?"
"He hasn't returned my calls," Evelyn replied.
Detective Serrano asked Teresa for a detailed account and arranged for officers to obtain available security footage.
Meanwhile, Evelyn explained to the gathered tenants that receiving a threatening notice did not mean they had to abandon their homes immediately.
The legal ownership and lease questions were being disputed.
She urged them to retain their paperwork and avoid signing new agreements without advice.
Luca promised to fund independent legal assistance for the tenants.
Then he did something I never expected.
He apologized.
Not with a polished speech.
Not with excuses about how busy he had been.
He looked at Teresa and said, "I should have known what was happening in a building that carries my family's name."
Teresa touched his arm.
"Then make sure it doesn't happen again."
When we returned to the car, Frank was unusually quiet.
I sat beside him.
"Are you tired?"
"A little."
He looked through the window at the tenants gathered outside.
"Your generation thinks my generation only remembers the past."
I smiled.
"Not all of us."
Frank squeezed my hand.
"The past tells you who to trust, Claire."
"But the future tells you whether you were right."
My phone rang.
The number was unfamiliar.
I answered cautiously.
A frightened man's voice spoke.
"Is this Claire Bennett?"
"Yes."
"My name is Peter Kline."
I sat upright.
He continued without giving me time to respond.
"I didn't notarize those property sales."
"Someone used my seal, and I have proof."
"Where are you?"
"Please listen carefully."
His breathing was uneven.
"I tried to tell Mr. Moretti's lawyers, but someone has been following me."
I glanced toward Luca.
"Mr. Kline, are you safe?"
There was a long pause.
May you like
Then he whispered, "Not anymore."
The line went dead.
