What Happened at East Houston Street

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Tip couldn't focus on his work. Roland Mistler's sudden appearance had unnerved him to the point where he couldn't sit still. With Stephanie on his mind, he sent her a text message.

Hey you, just checking in to see how you are. Hope you're taking a big bite out of the Big Apple. (smiley face)

He'd often text her out of the blue for no particular reason other than to let her know that he was thinking about her, so it wasn't out of the ordinary that he didn't receive a response.

He put his phone down and went out to the lobby. "Hey, Debbie," he waved at the receptionist.

She looked up from her computer screen and smiled. "Hey, Tip! How's your day going? Busy?"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and meandered to the front door, looking through the glass at the street. "Um, no, well, yeah...I've got some work to do." He blew a fatigued breath. He turned back around to face the front desk. "Hey, Deb? Where's Cal today?"

She shook her head. "He hasn't called me. I know he checked his email today though because his read notifications are enabled. I had emailed him to let him know that Mr. Mistler was here. He hasn't responded though." She shrugged and looked back at her computer.

He looked at his watch. The door to Mason's office had been closed for almost two hours. If Cal had wanted to see Brent's father he would have been here by now. Instead, he's meeting, unscheduled, with Mason Newell. Alarm bells rang in Tip's head. Why was Cal suddenly so interested in Kendall Square? As far as he knew, most of their clientele had retired to Florida or mixed in the Beacon Hill circles. Kendall Square was the new hub of technology. It was filled with young people who biked to their coding jobs instead of valeting their BMWs at the front doors of their office buildings. He furrowed his brow.

He went back to his office and sat at his desk. Leaning back in his chair, disinterested in the work he had been doing before Roland Mistler had walked into the building, he decided to do a search on the computer.

Charles Newell, Kendall Square

He scanned the results. There were several articles about the Binney Street project that had been placed on hold. Further into the results, there were articles about a lawsuit the lender had filed but had dismissed, mentioning a settlement. Buried even further were some news items about Cal's two OUI's from around the same time. Tip stopped his search and stared at the blank wall, lost in thought.

As soon as he heard the door open upstairs, he was pulled back to reality.

"I think we've made a great deal, Roland! I couldn't be happier!" He heard Mason's voice getting closer.

Roland gave a chuckle in response.

The two men made their way past Tip's office and stopped at the front desk.

"Deborah, Mr. Mistler and I have some celebrating to do. I'll be out for the rest of the day," Mason said.

Tip peeked his head into the lobby, watching as Mason put his hand on Roland's shoulder.

"Come on, Roland. Let's go toast to our future grand babies!"

The two men left the building with excited laughter, almost skipping out the door.

Tip had never seen Mason Newell so happy. In the past two years at the firm, he'd found him to be a proud, stoic relic of bygone days, where businessmen did not giggle in excitement. Something happened in that office to make him leave those appearances behind.

Tip sat down, confused by what he had just seen. "Hey, Debbie?" he called out to the lobby, not getting up to go talk to the receptionist. A moment later, she appeared at his door with a memo pad in hand.

"Hi, Tip. Did you need something?"

He looked up at her. "Would you mind running out to Sam LaGrassa's for me? I'm really craving their Reuben," he asked, pulling out a $20 bill. And you can take your time. Mr. Newell won't be back today and it's just me here. Go enjoy yourself."

"Thanks!" She smiled, taking the money and leaving.

"You know what, Debbie, just take the rest of the day off. You deserve it. Keep the $20 and get yourself something to eat. I'll see you tomorrow." She reappeared at his door, a surprised look on her face. He waved her off. "Go ahead, before I change my mind!" He grinned at her.

She left quickly. As soon as he heard the front door close, he walked over to it and turned the lock. He headed back to the stairs and went up to Mason's office. Standing in the doorway, taking stock of the room he had only been in a handful of times, his eyes fell upon two empty glasses that sat on coasters. He looked to the ornate oak desk, which was clear, only a Rolodex and a landline phone on it. He raised his eyebrows realizing that there was no computer. When he got to the desk, he opened the top middle drawer that was surprisingly empty save for a letter and a few pens. He took the letter and read it, his eyes lingering on the words 'delinquent payments' and 'legal action'. He turned the accompanying envelope in his hands and saw the 'Final Notice' stamp.

After placing the letter back in the drawer, he searched through the remaining compartments. There were no other cabinets to search, just one full of nearly empty liquor bottles. It hadn't been restocked in a long time.

Tip moved to Cal's messy office, the complete opposite of Mason's. He sifted through piles of official looking papers, many covered in cartoon doodles. He opened the top drawer and removed a pile of old Boston Globes. Under it, he found five large envelopes with a return address of a CPA firm. Sorting through their contents, he saw that they were tax returns for the last five years. Having taken an optional tax preparation course in college, he remembered enough to notice that the taxable interest amounts had decreased drastically during the three most recent years. His eyes fell to the last line and widened. He looked back to the substantial amounts reported as Adjusted Gross Income in the earlier returns, then reviewed the last three years again. He dropped the papers onto the desk and thought, Where the fuck did $60 million go?