CHAPTER 2

"Alright, bud – do your job." Matt took the bag of food that they had picked up at Ricardo's Mexican Restaurant and went on into the office, climbing over the back of the couch as he had done since his first day working there. "Hello, BABY. I've missed ya, girl." He pushed the switch that revealed the computer that he had used so often in his investigations, the blinds on the windows closing to form the screen for the machine. The familiar welome from the computer flashed. HIYA, BOSS!

"You still talk to it, huh?" Paul still remembered his first trip to the office back when his dad had been an LAPD lieutenant and often worked cases with the help of Houston. Back in those days his mom hadn't been as fond of the PI as she was now; his playboy lifestyle and womanizing ways had been legendary not just in his home state of Texas but in Los Angeles.

"Not it – she." The PI grimaced as he tried to type, the cast on his right arm a definite hindrance. Paul grabbed a couple of drinks from the mini-fridge behind the bar and came over the back of the couch, thinking to himself as he did that the last time he had done so had been much harder than it was these days, his long legs now making the step effortless. He had grown a lot since the family's move to Hawaii. As he pulled their supper from the bag and opened up the large box of tacos and burritos, he thought about how much Houston had changed since those days. He was a lot happier now that he and CJ were married and the kids had come along.

"Here..." Unwrapping a burrito for his uncle he handed it over.

"Thanks." Houston took the food in his right hand and continued to type with his left, something that was going to take some adjustment time. Finding the information that he was looking for he stopped, leaned back on the couch, and began munching as Paul began scanning the information as well.

Matt picked up reading where he had left off on the plane. F. Patterson Lockwood had been an average student at Beverly Hills High School, wasn't a jock, and didn't seem to have belonged to any clubs, but he had purportedly had a few contacts with police regarding underage drinking. After graduation he had been sent to USC and it was there that his first recorded brush with the law had earned him six months of probation regarding a case of threats against a female student who had made a complaint about unwanted sexual advances. It was quickly hushed up, the girl transferred to a school on the east coast, and Patterson had gone on to the university's Gould School of Law. The PI couldn't help but snicker at the man's class ranking: 197th out of a class of 210. Paul evidently had caught up with him a few seconds later and had the same reaction, both thinking of CJ's top ranking when she graduated from Harvard.

"Guess we know now why he doesn't practice law." The young man chuckled again as he picked up a taco and handed it over to his uncle.

"I'd say that's a good thing. Thanks." The PI took a large bite and continued reading. After graduation, Patterson had started his company, Florentine Developments. Several years into the business they became known for the use of Italian-like architecture which most critics panned. The buildings had a history of maintenance problems due in part to design flaws and the company's lack of responsibility when it came to maintaining their properties. The floor plans were also known to be recycled from one project to another with only slight variations and the term "cookie cutter" was often associated with Florentine. Patterson had managed to not only stay afloat but to prosper even during housing downturns, however, and had a lengthy love-hate relationship not only with the city of Los Angeles but surrounding areas of California as well. With a history of conveniently overlooking codes issues, claims of being persecuted by city government, and a long string of lawsuits against the municipalities where he had construction projects, his name had become synonymous with trouble.

One aspect of Patterson's business dealings that Matt found particularly interesting was the fact that all construction work was in-house: Florentine had its own construction crews and didn't hire outside help – something that put them on the naughty list of the trade unions in most cases.

Multiple fines for codes violations had threatened the company's well-being over the years, but whenever it looked the worst, Lockwood had a crew of attorneys who would begin legal action against the city government, dragging out cases until they were either dropped or settled with minimal fines against the developer. Long story short: Patterson was a real piece of work.

"This guy is a top notch jerk." Paul pulled out another taco and crunched as Matt began pulling up the specifications on the Cicero Phase Two project.

The two bottom floors of the development were concrete construction and the additional five floors were wood, a techinique that Florentine had employed over the years to cut costs. Seven stories was the maximum height that was considered safe with wood construction, and accounted for the sprawling nature of the company's projects. They built outward instead of upward leaving city planners and neighborhoods complaining that the available space was being wasted. Pausing for a minute, the PI took stock of what he had just read. Five floors of mostly wood construction was like a set of Fiddle Sticks construction toys – the wood would make great fuel for a fire, especially while still under construction, the available oxygen surrounding the framing plentiful. "He's a dangerous one, too." Houston began delving into the man's personal finances, stopping to look over at his young companion. "Keep your mouth shut, ya hear?"

"Mm huh." Novelli nodded eagerly, his mouth full of taco as his uncle went back to work. Watching how the man was able to get into just about any supposedly secure site was truly amazing. After swallowing Paul spoke. "I bet Mikey would love to be here right about now."

"Not a word to him."

"No, but I'm telling you – he's good." He nodded as Houston looked over at him. "You know Dad called him for help when the bomb went off in the parking garage." He motioned below them, recalling the attempt on Matt's life just a few short months after his marriage.

"I didn't know that."

"Yep. Dad says he lives in fear of the FBI knocking on the door one day."

"They might offer him a job." He didn't mention the fact that he and CJ were being considered for a task force against child endangerment run by the Department of Justice.

"Okay, Mr. F. Patterson Lockwood – let's see what you're holding..." He began running through the different accounts held personally by the man, including more than one off-shore account. As he tabluated the man's net worth he noticed that although he was still very well off, his finances had taken a hit over the last several years and also noticed that one of his personal properties was now on the market. A large estate just off of Mulholland had been his primary residence for the last six years. After the last hit to his financial situation in 2012, he had moved out and put the property up for sale. There didn't seem to be much interest in the property; as he pulled up a picture of it, the PI gave a grunt. The maintenance costs and taxes had to be staggering. Opening another tab he checked into the tax situation. "Uh huh..." Lockwood was behind on his taxes and had played another of his usual cards: suing the county over the property's valuation. After making a note of it in the file that he had started on the case, Matt went on.

Lockwood had been married three times, the latest to Crystal Amber Freelove. The PI hadn't anymore read the name before his young helper was consumed with a fit of laughter. "Oh, my God! That sounds like a stripper's name!" Young Novelli laughed as he looked over at Matt, the sound subsiding as he saw the raised eyebrow and serious look. He cleared his throat and got quiet. "Sorry."

"Gotcha!" The PI cracked up himself. "Let's see...well, hell; you were right. She used to be a stripper." Both men got a good laugh. Crystal seemed to have a clean record and Houston left her information to get back to business.

His next stop was to look at the finances of Florentine Developments. There was a considerable amount of the company's resources tied up in the Cicero properties – too much in Matt's opinion. Construction costs were high, much too high for what he had seen of the buildings. Going a little further he noticed that the financing for the project had not been handled locally and as he thought about it, he recalled hearing a buzz around town that no local banker had wanted to back Lockwood in the endeavor. Many had been surprised when after almost a year, he started forward on the project. Now he knew why: Lockwood had gone to Dallas for financial backing and the party that he got it from had a reputation as bad if not worse than Lockwood himself. Donovan Biggs Lynch was a name that Houston was all too familiar with unfortunately. Lynch was a cut-throat oil man with more dirty secrets than a soap opera villian. It was rumored that he had done away with some of those who stood in opposition of his pursuits. More than one person had just disappeared after locking horns with the man. Matt's own dad, Bill Houston, had avoided him like the plague, afraid that his own reputation would get sullied by the mere mention of the man's name in his presence. It had been conjectured many times that Lynch was behind catastrophes that seemed to befall those who refused to do business with him. "Guilt by association...looks like Daddy might've been right." Matt shook his head as he read through the details of the agreement between Lynch's Company, Silver Star Innovations and Florentine. Lockwood got the financing he had needed but the terms were steep. He would be hard-pressed to pay back the cagey Texan.

As Paul passed him another taco, the PI shifted his attention to his companion. "You know, you better let your folks know where you are."

"I'm eighteen, Uncle Matt and besides – I'm with you."

"And you're not where they think you are which is why you're gonna call 'em right now." His no-nonsense tone persuaded the boy to make the call. While waiting for an answer he looked back over at his uncle somewhat sulkily. "I don't need to get on your mama's bad side again." Matt had never mentioned the fact that Isabella had not cared for him at all when they were first introduced and as far as the younger man knew it had never been said.

While the kid made his phone call, Houston went to the bar and made one of his own to Don MacLemore – the Fire Marshal. "Hey, it's Houston. I'm back in town and have been looking into Florentine and Lockwood. Anybody else in particular that you want details about?"

"Glad you could make it back and I'm sorry to interrupt your holiday. Well..." The tiredness in the boss' voice came through loud and clear. "God, I need coffee. Uh...hell, I don't know right off the top of my head. Use your best judgement and let me know what you have in the morning. Say about 8:30 at my office?"

"Yes sir. I can sure do it. See you then." Hanging up he grabbed a cup of coffee and went back over the back of the couch taking a sip before setting the cup down and picking up another burrito as he studied the screen in front of him. There had been a good bit of opposition to the Cicero just as there had been about most of Lockwood's enterprises. He decided that would be the next area of exploration and finished the burrito before looking up news stories once again, finding the names of groups and individuals who had publicly cried foul over the construction project.

One such group was known as CASA – an acronym for Citizens Against Segregated America, a grassroots movement by families and businesses who had been displaced over the years by what they saw as an elitist movement by Lockwood and Florentine as well as other developers. The properties he had built in the last fifteen to twenty years tended to shun the community outside of them, instead acting as fortresses against the outside world. Park areas, swimming pools, and even entertainment complexes were part of the designs of the inward-facing constructions and entrance to those who were not residents was strictly regulated. The outside-owned businesses that leased space were faced with high rent and strict guidelines of what was and was not acceptable. Several had gone bankrupt because of contractural obligations to Florentine properties. Making a list of those and the owners also became part of his job for that night.

There were also two main ecological groups who opposed the construction of multiple Florentine properties. The first was known as Earth Build, a group that promoted more earth-friendly construction methods and more green spaces. The second was MEP, short for Mother Earth Planning, that was made up of individuals demanding that part of the inner city be reclaimed for gardening and other green uses.

He leaned back and looked over at Paul as he hung up. "So?"

"So now I'm all responsible for letting them know where I am." He cut his eyes over at the PI, a sly grin crossing his features. "Thanks." The reply was a chuckle and there was a slight struggle as both reached for the same taco, Paul finally yielding. "Guess since you're old and all gimped up I better – OUCH!" The smack on the back of the head was followed by a chuckle from Matt who took a big bite of the taco before returning to work on the keyboard in front of him.