Chương 6 - 317 WAS A NAME
Karen returned to Marchetti’s four days later.
Not because Roman asked.
Because she needed work.
Sarah Keene hated that.
“You can take a few days.”
“With what money?”
“Victim assistance may cover—”
“May.”
Sarah stopped.
Karen continued.
“My mother’s bill is under review. My car insurance is due. I need hours.”
Fair.
The restaurant reopened fully after police cleared evidence.
Karen walked through the service door at 11:00 p.m.
New lock.
New camera.
No hidden camera.
Paul Gatti handed her a printed schedule.
Karen Delaney.
Not 317.
She stared.
“Roman did this.”
Paul looked uncomfortable.
“He ordered names restored.”
“Why were they removed?”
“Agency import system.”
“You could have changed.”
“Yes.”
Good.
No excuse.
Paul handed her gloves.
Small.
Medium.
Large.
“Take what fits.”
Medium.
They fit.
The cracks on her knuckles had started healing.
Not because Roman healed them.
Because correctly sized gloves existed.
That angered her more.
Small solutions can expose how unnecessary suffering was.
At midnight, Roman entered.
Karen saw him through the kitchen pass.
He was with two lawyers.
No entourage.
He did not come toward her.
Good.
She cleaned.
At 1:15, break.
Karen sat behind restaurant with coffee.
Roman came outside.
Stopped ten feet away.
“May I sit?”
She stared.
“You own the chair.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Good.
“Yes.”
He sat.
Silence.
Then:
“How is Faye?”
“Still there.”
“Good.”
“Her Medicaid review got expedited.”
“Through Sarah?”
“And ombudsman.”
“No private payment.”
“No.”
Roman nodded.
Good.
Karen looked at him.
“You disappointed?”
“What?”
“That I didn’t need you to write check.”
“No.”
She studied.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Then:
“I like checks. They are efficient.”
She laughed.
“Of course.”
“But efficiency can make the person with money feel like problem is solved.”
Karen stared.
“Who taught you that?”
“My lawyer. repeatedly.”
Good.
Then Roman looked at her coffee.
“Do you still sleep in car?”
Karen stiffened.
“Sometimes.”
“Respite center?”
“Three nights max.”
“And now?”
“Friend lets me use couch two nights.”
“Other?”
“Car.”
Roman nodded.
No immediate offer.
Good.
Karen almost wanted one.
That made her angry.
Then:
“There is an employee housing assistance program through restaurant group.”
She laughed.
“Since when?”
“Tomorrow.”
She stared.
“Roman.”
He held up hand.
“Not for you.”
“That sounds worse.”
“It does.”
He corrected.
“We already had employee emergency assistance. It was badly advertised and excluded agency workers.”
Karen stopped.
“Agency.”
“Yes.”
“Me.”
“And others.”
“What are you changing?”
“We can’t unilaterally make agency employees ours.”
“No.”
“But we can require staffing vendors to provide emergency housing referrals and allow restaurant discretionary hardship grants to contracted workers under written criteria.”
“Grant.”
“Yes.”
“No loan.”
“Yes.”
“No working it off?”
“No.”
“No photo with rich owner?”
“No.”
She almost smiled.
“Why?”
“Because finding one employee asleep in a parking lot made me ask how many others do.”
Karen looked away.
“How many?”
“Seven across properties reported housing instability in anonymous survey.”
Seven.
She was not special.
Relief.
Pain.
Both.
“Would I qualify?”
“Probably. HR decides.”
Good.
Not him.
“How much?”
“Short-term hotel or deposit support within cap.”
“Hotel?”
“Yes.”
Karen thought of clean room.
Lock.
Shower.
No car window frost.
Her pride fought.
Then she remembered Faye.
Survival is not morality.
“I’ll apply.”
Roman nodded.
No smile of victory.
Good.
Then Karen asked:
“What happened with Hodge?”
“Police searched offices.”
“And?”
“Not my investigation.”
She stared.
“You know something.”
“Yes.”
“Can you say?”
“Public filings.”
He pulled phone but did not hand gossip.
Curtis Hodge had been arrested on charges related to extortion, unlawful access to protected information? Careful high-stakes current law fictional. We can state fictional story freely. Since creative writing. Fine.
Charges:
extortion.
identity deception.
computer access.
consumer fraud conspiracy.
Arthur Vale not arrested.
Yet.
Harbor Care operations suspended by Cedar Haven operator pending review.
State regulators opened investigation.
Karen’s alleged debt frozen.
Not erased.
“Frozen.”
“Yes.”
“Why not erased?”
“Because investigators and court need determine validity.”
She hated precision.
Good.
“What if some is real?”
“Then Sarah negotiates or disputes.”
Good.
“And Hodge calling from Nell’s number?”
“Police found caller-ID spoofing software on his laptop.”
Karen’s stomach tightened.
“So him.”
“Yes.”
“Why Nell?”
“Records from old complaint file included her phone and family contacts.”
There.
“He kept it.”
“Yes.”
“Two years.”
“Yes.”
“Why start again now?”
Roman looked toward rain.
“Because I questioned Cedar Haven lease renewal. Arthur’s team began collecting old files. Hodge apparently saw Karen Delaney on our cleaning roster during a vendor data review.”
“How?”
“Your agency invoice lists workers by number.”
“317.”
“Yes.”
“How connect number to me?”
“Agency payroll access.”
Karen’s body went cold.
“Hacked?”
“Unknown yet. Hodge had copies of pay stubs you gave Harbor Care.”
Right.
Her own paperwork.
He knew employer location.
Then hidden camera.
“Did he install it?”
“Police evidence suggests one Harbor Care contractor bought same camera model. Not enough yet.”
Good.
“And Arthur leaving money?”
“Still says guilt.”
Karen laughed.
“Do you believe?”
“I believe he saw you.”
“That’s not answer.”
“No.”
Good.
Then Roman said:
“Arthur claims he began quietly monitoring Nell’s family after her death because he feared Hodge would harass you.”
Karen turned.
“What?”
“He says the forty dollars was him checking on you.”
“That is worse.”
“Yes.”
“You do not protect someone by watching them sleep in car.”
“Yes.”
“Did he know Hodge was calling Mom?”
“He denies.”
“Do you believe?”
“Unknown.”
Good.
Karen sipped coffee.
Then:
“Why is Arthur not arrested?”
“Evidence threshold.”
She glared.
“Not enough.”
“Apparently.”
“Do you want him arrested?”
Roman thought.
“Yes.”
Good.
“And?”
“I don’t get to convert want into charge.”
There.
Karen looked at him differently.
Not good man.
Not clean man.
A man practicing restraint.
Maybe.
Then service door opened.
Paul.
“Karen, break over.”
She stood.
Roman stood too.
Paul looked awkward.
Then at Roman.
“Sorry.”
Roman stared.
“For what?”
“Calling her back.”
Karen immediately said:
“Do not.”
Both men looked.
“I am working.”
Roman nodded.
“Right.”
He left.
Good.
No boss turning her shift into romance.
Karen finished at five.
At 5:20, she drove to a motel arranged through the new employee emergency program.
Not luxury.
Clean.
One week authorized.
HR caseworker, not Roman.
She entered.
Locked door.
Shower.
Bed.
She put Nell’s photograph on the nightstand.
Then cried.
Not because poor woman had been rescued by a mafia boss.
Because for the first time in months, she had space to cry without someone hearing through a restaurant exhaust fan.
At 10:00 a.m., Sarah called.
“Your mother’s coverage decision.”
Karen sat up.
“What?”
“Medicaid long-term-care eligibility approved retroactive to application date.”
Karen stopped breathing.
“What does that mean?”
“Large portion of facility balance gets reprocessed.”
“Harbor Care?”
“Separate.”
“How much do I owe?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Good.
Karen cried anyway.
Then Sarah continued.
“Cedar Haven offered your mother a different room while billing audit happens.”
“Why?”
“They say to reduce disruption.”
“Do we trust?”
“We read paperwork.”
Good.
Karen smiled.
Then another call.
Unknown.
She almost ignored.
Detective Ortiz.
“We found the phone Hodge gave Faye two years ago.”
Karen stood.
“Where?”
“Harbor Care storage locker.”
Her skin went cold.
“Why keep it?”
“It contained recordings.”
“What recordings?”
Ortiz paused.
“Calls made using Nell’s spoofed number.”
Karen’s stomach turned.
“Mom.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Other families.”
Pattern.
Not personal obsession.
Business method.
Then Ortiz said:
“There is one recording you need to know exists.”
“What?”
“Nell.”
Karen stopped.
“Before she died?”
“Yes.”
“Hodge recorded her.”
“What did she say?”
Ortiz’s voice softened.
“We are not releasing full audio yet.”
“Tell me.”
“Nell told Hodge she had made copies and given one set to someone he would never intimidate.”
Karen’s heart pounded.
“Who?”
“Hodge asked.”
“And?”
“Nell laughed.”
Karen cried and laughed at once.
Of course.
“What did she say?”
Ortiz answered.
“She said, ‘You’ll know when the man with the raven on his cuff opens the right drawer.’”
Karen went still.
“Raven?”
Roman Marchetti did not wear raven.
What?
Then she remembered the framed 1989 menu in his office.
Logo in corner.
A black bird.
Old Marchetti family crest.
Not current.
“Roman’s father.”
Maybe.
Or Roman.
Ortiz continued:
“Hodge thought she meant Marchetti.”
Karen stared at the motel wall.
That explained the office.
The break-in.
The lock photograph.
Hodge believed Nell had hidden evidence in Marchetti’s restaurant years ago.
But Karen knew Nell had never worked there.
Unless she had given something to someone who did.
The man with the raven on his cuff.
And suddenly Karen understood there was still one person no one had asked.
The old bartender who had worked for Anthony Marchetti before Roman owned the restaurant.
A man everyone called Uncle Leo.
The next morning, Karen used the motel desk to fill out the housing-assistance application.
She almost lied.
Not about income.
About the car.
Question:
CURRENT SLEEPING ARRANGEMENT.
She wrote:
FRIEND / TEMPORARY.
Then stopped.
Crossed it out.
VEHICLE SOME NIGHTS.
Her hand shook.
The form did not insult her.
Did not fire her.
Did not disappear.
It simply moved to the next question.
May you like
Karen finished.
That small act felt more dangerous than asking Roman Marchetti for anything.
