Chapter 13 - The Keys to the Kingdom
By Wednesday, the legal machinery set in motion by Evelyn Vance was operating with the terrifying efficiency of a hydraulic press.
At 10:00 AM, a flatbed tow truck from our shop pulled up outside *The Royce Suites* in downtown Columbus.
I sat in the passenger seat of Joanna’s SUV, watching the sleek glass facade of the forty-story luxury high-rise catch the winter sunlight. Beside us, two uniformed Delaware County Sheriff’s deputies stood by their cruisers, holding the court-ordered writ of attachment.
Evelyn Vance stepped out of her Lincoln, holding a manila folder containing the court order that designated me as the temporary receiver of *Crestline Management LLC*.
"Ready, Harold?" Evelyn asked, looking through the car window.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk, leaning on my cane. My hip was still stiff, the deep bruise turning a mottled yellowish-green, but the sharp, blinding pain had subsided into a steady, manageable ache.
"Let’s go see what thirty-two hundred dollars a month bought," I said.
We rode the brass-lined elevator up to the fortieth floor. The corridors smelled of expensive bergamot and polished mahogany.
Penthouse 402 was at the end of the hall.
The deputy inserted the master key provided by the building manager. The heavy oak door swung open with a whisper.
The apartment was breathtaking—and disgusting.
Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the entire skyline of Columbus, the Scioto River winding like a silver ribbon through the snow below. The living room was furnished with white Italian leather sofas, abstract paintings that looked like they cost more than my first home, and a sixty-bottle temperature-controlled wine cellar built into the wall.
On the glass coffee table sat an empty crystal decanter and two used glasses.
In the master bedroom, the walk-in closet was filled with Derek’s custom-tailored suits, cashmere sweaters, and rows of imported Italian shoes. On the vanity sat Chloe Vance’s perfume bottles and a jewelry tray lined with black velvet.
Joanna walked through the master bathroom, running her finger along a marble vanity that could have paid for two years of Toby’s speech therapy.
"He told Melissa they couldn't afford to take the kids to Disney World," Joanna said, her voice shaking with quiet fury. "He told her that Disney was a vulgar waste of money."
"Everything in this room," Evelyn said, gesturing with her pen, "was purchased through the Crestline operating account funded by your father's credit line. Under the emergency receivership order signed this morning, every single asset in this penthouse is subject to immediate liquidation to satisfy the outstanding commercial balance."
She looked at me.
"Harold, do you want to keep any of this?"
I looked around the glittering, soulless room. I smelled the artificial lavender air freshener masking the stale scent of adultery and deceit.
"Call Miller’s Estate Liquidators," I said. "Tell them to bring three box trucks. Strip the paintings off the walls, strip the furniture off the floors, take the wine, take the clothes, take every single crystal glass."
I turned back toward the door.
"Sell it all. Put every dime into a college trust fund for Melissa’s children and Joanna’s boy."
"And the lease?" Evelyn asked, a knowing smile touching her lips.
"Terminate it immediately," I said. "Let the building management rent it to someone who works for a living."
As we walked out into the corridor, the elevator doors opened.
Two young men in matching blue coveralls from *Denton Precision Auto* stepped out, carrying heavy industrial packing boxes and rolls of heavy brown packing tape.
Artie Kowalski was leading them. He looked at me, touched the brim of his grease-stained cap, and grinned.
"Where do we start, Boss?"
May you like
"Start with the wine, Artie," I said, tapping the cane against the marble floor. "And don't leave a single coat hanger."
***