Chapter 7 - The Forty-Eight DoorsRiverton Court did not look like a property worth fighting over.
Its brick exterior had faded unevenly. Several windows were covered with plastic sheeting. Rust streaked the metal railings, and the front steps had been repaired with concrete that did not match the original stone.
Daniel parked across the street.
He had not visited the building in eighteen months.
As managing director of Vale Residential, he received quarterly maintenance summaries, attended budget meetings, and reviewed projected returns.
He knew the property's occupancy rate.
He knew its annual revenue.
He did not know that the elevator frequently stopped between floors.
He discovered that within five minutes of entering the lobby.
A handwritten sign was taped beside the elevator buttons.
OUT OF SERVICE AGAIN. PLEASE USE STAIRS.
Daniel stared.
According to the most recent maintenance report, the elevator had been modernized six weeks earlier.
"Can I help you?"
A man in a navy work jacket approached carrying a toolbox.
Daniel recognized him.
"Ben?"
Ben Ortiz stopped.
"Mr. Vale."
Ben was fifty-two, broad-shouldered, with weathered hands and a permanent line between his eyebrows.
He had worked for Vale Residential for nineteen years.
Daniel gestured toward the elevator.
"Why isn't this operational?"
Ben looked at the sign.
"Because the repair company didn't finish the job."
"The report says they did."
"Then the report's wrong."
Daniel's expression tightened.
"How long has it been out?"
"Off and on since August. Completely down for the last eleven days."
Daniel looked toward the stairwell.
"Who approved the final inspection?"
Ben gave a humorless laugh.
"That's what I'd like to know."
They walked through the building together.
On the second floor, Daniel saw peeling paint near a leaking pipe.
On the third, a hallway light flickered continuously.
At the end of the corridor, an elderly woman opened her apartment door.
"Benjamin?"
Ben turned.
"Morning, Mrs. Ellis."
Miriam Ellis was seventy-six. She wore a lavender cardigan and held a folded dish towel.
Her eyes shifted toward Daniel.
"Who's this?"
"Daniel Vale."
Miriam's expression changed.
"Victor's son?"
Daniel nodded.
She looked him up and down.
"I wrote your office three times."
Daniel felt heat rise in his neck.
"About what?"
"The heating. Last winter, my bedroom never got warm enough. They said someone came to fix it."
"Did someone?"
"A man came in February and looked at the thermostat. Nothing changed."
Ben crossed his arms.
Daniel asked, "Do you still have those letters?"
Miriam disappeared into her apartment.
She returned carrying a folder.
"People think old women throw everything away."
She handed it to him.
Inside were copies of complaints, work orders, and responses from Vale Residential.
Several responses stated that repairs had been completed.
Miriam pointed to one.
"That day, nobody entered my apartment."
Daniel looked at Ben.
Ben nodded.
"I can confirm that. The contractor's visit wasn't on our schedule."
Daniel turned another page.
The work order referenced Hearthbridge Consulting.
The same company Margaret had questioned.
He felt suddenly ashamed of his expensive coat, his polished shoes, and the car parked outside.
"Mrs. Ellis," he said, "I'm sorry."
She folded her arms.
"Sorry is easy, Mr. Vale."
Daniel lowered his eyes.
"What would help?"
"Heat that works. An elevator I can trust. And someone who answers when I call."
She looked beyond him toward the hallway.
"Your father used to come here."
Daniel remained silent.
"Sometimes he was a difficult man. But he would sit at my kitchen table and listen."
Her voice softened.
"I haven't seen anyone from your family since his funeral."
Outside, Ben leaned against the brick wall.
Daniel examined the copied maintenance records.
"Why didn't you come to me?"
Ben stared at him.
"I did."
"When?"
"March. June. September."
Daniel looked up.
"Those emails never reached me."
"I sent them to your executive office. Mrs. Vale's assistant replied that the concerns were being reviewed."
Daniel remembered his sister taking responsibility for operational correspondence after Victor's death.
He had welcomed it.
He had been exhausted, grieving, and increasingly absent from the details of the company he supposedly ran.
Ben reached into his jacket.
"I kept copies."
He handed Daniel a flash drive.
"Service logs, invoices, photographs. Nothing fancy."
Daniel took it.
"Why keep them?"
"Because contractors were getting paid for jobs my crew was still being asked to do."
"And you suspected fraud?"
"I suspected somebody wanted the paperwork to look better than the building."
Daniel looked toward Riverton Court.
Forty-eight doors.
Forty-eight households trusting a company he controlled.
"Why didn't you resign?"
Ben shrugged.
"Because somebody has to answer Mrs. Ellis when her heat goes out."
Daniel swallowed.
Then Ben said something that changed the direction of the investigation.
"There's another thing."
Daniel turned.
"A few months ago, Mrs. Vale told us to move old maintenance files into the storage wing at Briar House."
"Why?"
"She said the company was digitizing them."
"Did that happen?"
"Not that I know."
"Where are the files?"
Ben hesitated.
"Some stayed in storage."
"And the rest?"
"She sent a truck for them."
Daniel's stomach tightened.
"When?"
"October third."
The exact date appeared in Sofia's notebook.
Daniel looked down at the flash drive.
May you like
For the first time, two independent accounts matched.
And neither depended on anyone's memory of a broken vase.
Related Stories
