Chapter 2 - THE TOKEN FROM A DEAD MAN
Margot should have gone home.
Instead, she sat opposite the most feared man at Boston Harbor at one fifteen in the morning while someone removed a knife from his dining table.
Her arm hurt.
Her feet hurt.
Debt collectors would begin calling again in seven hours.
Somehow none of that seemed as important as the brass token between them.
“My father died thirteen years ago.”
“I know.”
“Elias Marsh died four years ago.”
“Yes.”
“So how did Elias get my father's token?”
“I don't know.”
“That answer seems unusual for you.”
The corner of Emmett's mouth moved.
Not quite a smile.
“I am discovering several things I don't know.”
Warren Doyle entered carrying coffee.
He placed one cup beside Margot.
She stared.
“I didn't ask.”
Doyle shrugged.
“You look like you need it.”
Emmett said:
“She doesn't take sugar.”
Margot turned.
“How do you know?”
“You work here.”
“That doesn't answer anything.”
Doyle almost smiled.
Emmett didn't.
Margot picked up the coffee anyway.
“What happened in the warehouse?”
Emmett leaned back.
“Official report says electrical fault.”
“Unofficial?”
“Someone locked one exit.”
Margot's fingers tightened around the cup.
“Elias was doing books?”
“Yes.”
“For whom?”
“Harbor Materials Cooperative.”
She knew the name.
Everyone did.
Old brick warehouses.
Machine parts.
Crane components.
Loaned equipment.
Emmett continued:
“Elias found irregularities in equipment financing.”
“What kind?”
“Companies borrowing against machinery they never received.”
“Insurance?”
“Yes.”
“Who benefited?”
“That was the question.”
“And then the warehouse burned.”
“Yes.”
Margot looked at the token.
“My father worked cranes.”
“Samuel inspected them too.”
“No.”
Emmett nodded.
“He became a safety representative during his last year.”
She stared.
Her mother had never told her.
Deborah had barely been able to speak about Samuel after his death.
Then cancer arrived.
After that, every family story became smaller than surviving the next appointment.
“Why didn't I know?”
“I can't answer that.”
“Stop saying that.”
His expression hardened slightly.
“Would you prefer invention?”
No.
Margot hated that he was right.
“What does any of this have to do with tonight?”
Emmett opened a leather notebook.
Seven handwritten names.
Four with dark lines through them.
Margot read.
Samuel Seer.
Marked.
Elias Marsh.
Marked.
Arthur Bell.
Marked.
Jonas Pike.
Marked.
Then:
Frank Howerin.
Unmarked.
Ada Boon.
Unmarked.
Emmett Ror.
Unmarked.
Margot's heartbeat changed.
“Ada?”
The Ardmore's kitchen chief.
The woman who had worked there thirty years.
“Why is Ada on this?”
“I don't know yet.”
Margot almost swore at him.
He continued:
“This list was pushed beneath my hotel door last night.”
“The fourth-floor room.”
“Yes.”
“You were registered as E. Ward.”
His eyes narrowed.
“How—”
“Front desk ledger.”
She shrugged.
“Waitresses see things too.”
This time he did smile.
Briefly.
“Apparently.”
Margot pointed toward Frank Howerin.
“Who is he?”
“A hauler.”
“And?”
“He came to me yesterday about an equipment loan.”
Margot remembered Ada's old warning about harbor arrangements.
Men who lost trucks.
Contracts.
Businesses.
The Rors.
“What did you do?”
Emmett's expression changed.
“Nothing.”
“That sounds unlikely.”
“My people removed three of his loading contracts.”
“You said you did nothing.”
“I didn't order it.”
“But it happened because that's what your system does.”
Silence.
That hit.
Good.
Margot continued:
“So maybe whoever wrote this list isn't warning you about seven random people.”
She tapped Samuel.
“Maybe they're warning you about what happens around your harbor.”
Doyle looked at Emmett.
Emmett looked back.
Neither liked it.
Good again.
Then Margot remembered Toby.
His oversized coat.
Broken arm.
The letters he'd mentioned inside his mother's old wool coat.
MIR.
She stood.
“I need to see Ruth.”
Emmett did too.
“No.”
Margot stared.
“No?”
“It is two in the morning.”
“So?”
“You were attacked.”
“You were attacked.”
“Yes.”
“So perhaps you should stay here.”
Doyle coughed suspiciously.
Margot looked at him.
“Do you need water?”
“No.”
Emmett rubbed his jaw.
“I'll drive you.”
“I have a bus pass.”
“At two in the morning.”
“Still valid.”
“Margot.”
It was the first time he'd said her name.
She noticed.
Hated that she noticed.
Finally:
“You can drive.”
Emmett nodded.
“But I choose where we go.”
A pause.
May you like
“Agreed.”
Outside, snow had begun again.
