Chương 2 - THE DEBT COMPANY THAT WASN'T A DEBT COMPANY
Roman did not draw a gun.
That surprised Karen.
Paul Gatti did.
That scared her more.
Roman looked at him.
“Put it away.”
“Boss—”
“Now.”
Paul hesitated.
Then holstered.
Good.
Roman called police.
Actual police.
Karen stared.
He saw.
“What?”
“I thought—”
“That I would send men through the building?”
She looked away.
“Yes.”
“So did I.”
That answer surprised her.
Then:
“But a camera was disabled, someone entered a locked commercial property, and you received an extortion demand.”
“Extortion?”
“He threatened your mother to make you gather access information.”
Karen’s stomach tightened.
“Maybe he really can move her.”
“Then that becomes evidence too.”
Police arrived at 2:39.
Two patrol officers first.
Then a detective because Roman Marchetti’s restaurant was not a normal alarm call whether anyone admitted it.
Detective Lena Ortiz was forty-something, short, and unimpressed by everyone.
Karen liked her immediately.
Ortiz took the phone.
Not permanently.
Photographed call history.
Message.
Asked whether Karen consented to extraction later.
Karen said:
“What does that mean?”
Ortiz explained.
Good.
Karen agreed only to preserve relevant messages and call metadata for now.
No full phone search without further consent or warrant.
Roman said nothing.
Good.
Security footage showed a hooded person entering through the upstairs service window at 1:58.
How?
Old latch.
No alarm because the contact sensor had been taped earlier that week.
That meant preparation.
The person entered Roman’s office corridor.
Camera cut at 2:06.
Reappeared at 2:19.
No clear face.
They never came to kitchen.
How did they photograph Karen?
Another camera.
Hidden.
Police found it taped beneath a shelf above the dry storage door.
Tiny wireless unit.
Not restaurant equipment.
Karen stared.
“They put that there for me?”
Ortiz answered:
“We don’t know yet.”
Good.
Roman looked at the camera.
“Could have been installed earlier.”
“Yes.”
Paul said:
“I inspect that room.”
Ortiz looked at him.
“How often?”
“Daily.”
“Under shelves?”
Paul stopped.
“No.”
Good.
Not magic.
The intruder had likely planted the hidden camera earlier or during tonight’s entry.
Evidence would tell.
At 3:20, Karen sat in Roman’s office for the first time.
Not because Hodge won.
Because Detective Ortiz wanted a quiet place to take her statement.
The room disappointed her.
Desk.
Books.
Two old photographs.
No safe visible.
No wall of guns.
A framed menu from 1989.
Ortiz asked about Hodge.
First contact.
Hospital corridor after Faye’s second stroke.
What did he offer?
“Help with bridge costs while benefits processed.”
Did Karen receive cash?
“No.”
Harbor Care paid Cedar Haven and a medical transport invoice directly.
Amount?
Three thousand one hundred.
Repayment?
Karen signed for sixty dollars a week.
Then late fees.
Then “administrative reinstatement.”
Then Hodge began calling.
Total paid so far?
Karen thought.
“About four thousand.”
Ortiz stopped.
“You borrowed thirty-one hundred.”
“Yes.”
“And still owe?”
“Eleven thousand something.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
Ortiz did not react.
“Paperwork?”
“In car.”
An officer retrieved it with Karen’s permission.
The agreement called Harbor Care Assistance a “patient navigation and emergency benefit coordination service.”
No interest rate.
Instead:
service recovery fee.
coordination fee.
continuity fee.
urgent placement protection fee.
Ortiz read.
“This is not normal.”
Karen laughed.
“Nothing is normal when you’re poor enough.”
Silence.
Roman looked down.
Good.
Ortiz continued.
“Did Hodge ever ask for something other than money?”
Karen hesitated.
Tonight.
“Yes.”
“Before tonight?”
“No.”
“Any information about Marchetti’s?”
“He asked where I worked.”
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“Why?”
“Said income verification.”
“Did you tell him restaurant name?”
“Yes.”
“Schedule?”
“I gave pay stubs.”
Agency pay stubs.
The restaurant location appeared.
So Hodge knew.
Ortiz asked:
“Who besides Hodge communicates?”
“Sometimes texts from numbers.”
“Names?”
“No.”
“Threats?”
“Payment reminders.”
“Save them?”
“Some.”
Good.
Then Roman’s lawyer Mara Vescovi arrived.
She wore jeans, boots, and an expression that suggested 3:30 a.m. improved her personality.
She greeted Ortiz by first name.
That worried Karen.
Connections.
Ortiz saw.
“We’ve met in court.”
Good.
Mara sat far from Karen.
“Ms. Delaney, I represent Mr. Marchetti and his property companies. I do not represent you.”
Good.
Karen relaxed slightly.
“I contacted a patient-rights attorney through Rhode Island Legal Services. They have an on-call referral line for emergencies involving facility transfer.”
“That exists?”
“Not quite as magically as I just made it sound. I woke three people.”
Karen almost smiled.
Mara continued.
“A lawyer named Priya Noland? Hmm avoid Priya. Let's use "Sarah Keene." Sarah Keene is willing to speak with you in the morning.”
“How much?”
“Legal aid eligibility based on income.”
Good.
Not Roman paying her lawyer.
“What about my mother?”
“I also reached the state long-term-care ombudsman.”
Karen stared.
“At three in the morning?”
Mara shrugged.
“I’m annoying.”
Roman said:
“Yes.”
She ignored him.
“Cedar Haven’s nursing supervisor confirms your mother has no medical discharge order.”
Karen breathed.
Then Mara’s face tightened.
“However.”
Of course.
“The facility administrator entered an administrative notice yesterday regarding unpaid private-room supplement and certain uncovered services.”
“My mother doesn’t have a private room.”
“Correct.”
Karen stopped.
“What?”
“Her chart lists semi-private.”
“Then why supplement?”
“Unknown.”
There.
“Could that trigger transfer?”
“Not by eight automatically. There are notice requirements, resident rights, appeal processes, payer rules.”
Karen’s eyes filled.
“Hodge lied.”
Mara looked at her.
“He appears to have misrepresented urgency at minimum.”
Good.
Specific.
Then:
“Cedar Haven management says Hodge is not their employee.”
“What?”
Karen stared.
“He works there.”
“He has office space.”
“Yes.”
“Badge.”
“Vendor badge.”
“He knew my mother’s bill.”
“That is a major question.”
Roman’s voice turned cold.
“How does an outside consultant have resident financial data?”
Mara looked at him.
“Exactly.”
The room changed.
Karen understood.
This was not just her debt.
It might be data access.
Ortiz asked Mara:
“Lease?”
“Harbor Care Assistance subleases from Cedar Haven Services, not directly from Marchetti property company.”
“So operator let them in.”
“Yes.”
“Data agreement?”
“Finding.”
Roman said:
“Who operates Cedar Haven?”
Mara stared at him.
“You know.”
“Say it.”
“North Providence Senior Services.”
Roman’s face hardened.
CEO:
Arthur Vale.
Karen did not know the name.
Roman did.
“How close?” Ortiz asked.
Roman’s answer came after a pause.
“My father did business with Arthur.”
There.
Old connection.
“Current?”
“Limited.”
“What kind?”
“Catering contracts. transport vendor introductions years ago.”
“Any ownership?”
“No.”
Mara added:
“Property lease only through one Marchetti holding entity.”
Good.
Separate.
Ortiz looked at Karen.
“Do not let anyone simplify this into Mr. Marchetti owning your mother’s care.”
Karen nodded.
Roman looked slightly annoyed.
Good.
At 4:10, police finished initial scene work.
The restaurant remained closed pending camera review.
Paul wanted to call staff.
Roman said:
“At six.”
Paul stared.
“Breakfast prep—”
“Canceled.”
“Reservations?”
“Call everyone.”
Karen looked at him.
“You’re closing?”
“For the morning.”
“Because of me?”
“No.”
He looked at the hidden camera bag.
“Because someone turned my restaurant into an observation point.”
Good.
Then Paul said:
“What about cleaning?”
Roman looked at Karen.
“She goes off clock now.”
Karen’s body tightened.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
“I need the hours.”
Roman nodded.
“Then you get paid for the scheduled hours.”
“I didn’t work them.”
“You were prevented by a security incident at the workplace.”
Mara smiled faintly.
“That is a legitimate business reason.”
Karen stared.
Not charity.
Wage continuation.
She could accept that.
“Fine.”
Roman nodded.
Then he looked at her hands.
“Gloves.”
Paul’s face changed.
“What?”
Roman turned.
“Why does cleaning staff have wrong-size gloves for three weeks?”
Paul went pale.
“Supply issue.”
“Why?”
“Vendor backorder.”
“Did you source another vendor?”
Silence.
Roman did not raise voice.
“Did you?”
“No.”
Karen looked away.
Not because she wanted Paul punished.
Because she knew this part.
Small problems stay small only to people who do not bleed from them.
Roman said:
“Fix it today. Review all cleaning PPE sizes. And put names back on the schedule.”
Paul blinked.
“What?”
Roman pointed toward Karen.
“She is not 317.”
Karen’s throat closed.
Paul looked ashamed.
“That came from the agency roster.”
“Then our copy changes.”
That shocked everyone more than money would have.
Not because names were expensive.
Because nobody powerful ever noticed when they disappeared.
Karen looked at Roman.
“Why?”
He stared.
“Why what?”
“The names.”
“Because you have one.”
Simple.
Too simple.
She looked away before he saw tears.
At 4:32, Roman offered the private dining room for Karen to sleep until the morning calls.
She said no.
Not because unsafe.
Because she could not sleep in his restaurant after someone hid a camera there.
Fair.
Mara found a twenty-four-hour women’s respite program with private sleeping rooms attached to a community center.
Karen hesitated.
“They’ll ask questions.”
“Yes.”
“I hate questions.”
“Then answer only what intake requires.”
“Car?”
“Police can escort you to retrieve it from lot if you want.”
Karen looked at Roman.
He said nothing.
Good.
Choice.
“I’ll go.”
At 4:50, she left with Ortiz for the respite center.
Not in Roman’s car.
That mattered.
At 7:55, Karen sat in a small room with a single bed and a lock.
Her phone rang.
Cedar Haven.
She answered.
“Ms. Delaney?”
“Yes.”
“This is Joanne Bell, resident services.”
Karen’s chest tightened.
“Is my mother being moved?”
“No.”
Karen closed her eyes.
Joanne continued.
“A legal hold has been placed on any nonmedical transfer pending review of billing and resident rights.”
Not permanent.
Enough.
“And Harbor Care?”
“We are conducting internal review.”
Karen laughed bitterly.
“Your internal review let them call me from my dead sister’s number.”
Silence.
Joanne said:
“I’m sorry.”
Karen did not accept or reject.
Then another call came.
Unknown.
She almost ignored.
Answered.
“Miss Delaney.”
Curtis Hodge.
Her body went cold.
“How are you calling me?”
“You made a mistake.”
She stood.
“What?”
“You involved Roman Marchetti.”
Karen’s hand shook.
Then remembered Ortiz’s instruction.
Do not threaten back.
Do not promise.
Keep him talking if safe.
Record only if lawful? Rhode Island one-party? Not sure. We shouldn't give legal advice. But police may have arranged call capture? Let's avoid. Karen had a police contact number and could put on speaker if an officer present? She's alone. She can just listen.
Hodge continued:
“You think he helps people for free?”
Karen said nothing.
“Ask him what his father did to Harbor Care.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What?”
Hodge laughed softly.
“You think I built this alone?”
The line clicked dead.
Karen stared at the phone.
At 8:03, another message arrived.
A photograph.
Not of Karen.
Of Nell.
Her dead sister.
Standing outside Cedar Haven two years earlier.
Alive.
Talking to Arthur Vale.
Karen’s blood turned cold.
Nell had died six months before Faye ever entered Cedar Haven.
May you like
So why had Karen’s sister been meeting the man who operated the facility?
And why did Curtis Hodge have the photograph?
