The Slot (Rochester Riot #1)(43)

Chapter Fifteen

The team traveled out of state for games three and four of the series, leaving Eloise to catch up on her desk work. The opening for Murphy’s Finest had been a success in spite of the coalition’s interference. They were still lobbying the City Planning and Zoning Department as well as the Liquor and Gambling Commission, but Eloise doubted anything would come of it. Why couldn’t people just get along with each other? She’d done her best to try and show the community how everyone could benefit, but some folks were just plain stubborn and refused to compromise.

Her phone rang, and Kylie announced that Kristoff waited to see her. “Send him in,” she replied with a sigh. Like it or not, they were still colleagues. She steeled herself for the shit-storm that typically followed any contact with her smarmy ex.

“El, my dear, I see you’re still hard at work,” Kristoff said, breezing casually into her office.

He wore a knitted purple tie that Eloise had hated when he bought it and still did. She gave him a fake smile. “Unlike some people.”

He smirked and dismissed her comment. Without waiting for an invitation, he seated himself in one of the visitor chairs facing her. “Well, I hope you’re setting aside a few hours to trawl Monster because I hear Sheehan is looking around for a replacement for you.”

Eloise stared at him for a long moment, deciding if she’d get more pleasure out of stabbing him or strangling him. “You just can’t let it go, can you?” she finally said. “After five years, you still can’t accept that the better man – or in this case, woman – got the job, or come to terms with your own mediocrity. You sicken me. And by the way, I reported you and your disgusting comments to HR. Mr. Murphy can get away with it because he owns this franchise. You cannot.”

Kristoff feigned sympathy. “El, sweetheart, I’m only telling you this as a favor to give you a head start on your job search, so you can leave with dignity. Isn’t that what friends do?”

Her eyes narrowed as she rose from her chair. “I’ve had quite enough examples lately of what ‘friends’ do for each other, Kristoff. Whatever you and I were to each other in the past, it wasn’t friends. Now get the f*ck out of my office.”

Kristoff stood to leave. “I’ll come back with my tape measure later,” he said with a chuckle. “I might want new drapes in here. Your decorating style is a little too redneck for me.”

Eloise wished she kept a dog in the office, one that would growl, attack, and bite his heels until he ran the hell out of her office and her life for good. She watched him go, and in a flash, Kylie popped her head inside her door. “Are you alright?” she asked, glancing back to ensure Kristoff had disappeared. “What the heck was that all about?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out, right now.” She marched out of the room and headed straight for Sheehan Murphy’s office. Barbara’s desk sat empty, but Sheehan’s door was open. As she took a few steps toward it, she overheard him talking on his phone.

“You’ll get the money by secure e-transfer,” Sheehan said. A pause. “Now George, you know I always reward the people who help me. This is no different.”

Eloise stopped in her tracks. His conversation smacked of something less than above-board business dealings. She moved noiselessly off to the side of the doorframe and put her back to the wall. On impulse, she pulled out her cell phone and activated the video app. She angled her arm just enough to catch a half-view of Sheehan on the screen. He hunched over his desk with the phone to his ear, unaware of her presence.

“That Little House on the Prairie crowd doesn’t do a damn thing for this city, and you know it,” he grumbled. “I bring money into the community with world-class entertainment. We’re going all the way this year, I can feel it. I’m bringing Rochester the goddamn Stanley Cup, George. Isn’t that worth a little red rejection stamp on one lousy appeal?” Another pause. “It’s a f*cking piece of paper that can be buried so deep up your department’s ass no one will ever find it. Just send ole Half-Pint to Oleson’s Mercantile and get it done.”

Eloise sucked in a breath, cursing herself for inadvertently making a noise. Holy shit! She realized that the person on the other end of the conversation was George Taylor, the chairman of the Board of Appeals for the Rochester Planning and Zoning Department. The coalition must have filed their appeal, and Murphy was going to pay to have it killed. She knew he was a douche, but this maneuver belonged in the f*cking Douchebag Hall of Fame. Her hand trembled as she tried to keep the phone steady.

“I don’t give a f*ck how many signatures they collected. I’ll pay you fifty bucks for every single one, straight into your pocket on top of my original offer. Reject the appeal, and we can all get on with our comfortable lives. It’s so simple. You’re looking at retirement soon, aren’t you, George? Think what this little nest egg will do for you and your lovely wife.”

She had to hand it to Murphy, he had a killer’s instinct and knew exactly the tender spots to stick his knife. She hoped Mr. Taylor could resist Sheehan’s Irish Mafia charm. Murphy turned his head, and Eloise dropped her arm out of sight.

“I knew you’d see it my way, George. You’re a good man, you’ve done the city proud.”

***