Free Lies Lovers Tell by Zuri Day Page B

more than he, but with his jovial, self-effacing personality, the imbibers never noticed.
    He hoped the men he was waiting to meet would drink themselves into a state loose enough to provide the investigative break he was looking for. He’d been in L.A. a month, and while he’d talked patience to Joseph Rosenthal, he was ready for this case to be over. This wasn’t how he usually felt about his work; he usually loved his work, the challenge, the thrill. But something had happened to him, and her name was Macy. Having her in his life suddenly made the million or so he stood to make on this job seem less important. He wanted to hang out with her, spend time with her. He wanted to let her in on his life, on who he really was. Yes, he’d told her he was an investigator but she had no idea about his double identity as Sam Walters. He knew he could never tell her that, not only because of the confidentiality clause in his contract but more importantly, for her own safety. He wanted to share everything of who he was with this woman who’d occupied his mind from the moment she walked toward him in a hot red dress.
    He’d have to do that later. Two men, obviously the ones for whom he waited, stepped into the restaurant. One looked to be in his forties, striking but not handsome, clean-cut, businesslike. He must be the politician , Sean thought, as he watched the hostess point him out to the duo. The second man was older than the first, balding and portly but still with a commanding presence. Sean correctly guessed this was Phillip Campbell, the man who’d worked with Zeke Brennan for years.
    Sean stood with hand outstretched as the men approached. After introductions and small talk, Sean got down to business, confirming what the men had heard, that he was itching to buy some huge chunks of real estate.
    “Well, your timing is perfect,” Phillip assured him. “Me and my partners are looking for a fourth and final investor to try and break the stranglehold that Zeke Brennan has on the L.A. market.”
    “Join the crowd,” Sean said. “I hear the Rosenthal Group is trying to do the same thing.”
    “True, but they don’t know what I know,” Phillip said.
    “Nor I,” the ex-politician, Mark Dobbs, chimed in.
    “And what’s that, gentlemen?” Sean asked casually. “Wait, first, let me buy you guys a drink.”
    Two hours and a couple hundred dollars’ worth of drinks and dinner later, Sean pounded the treadmill of his hotel’s gym. He’d decided not to call Macy after his meeting; he needed the night to digest the information he’d uncovered and to strategize his next move. The information he received was even better than expected, and added a new and lucrative dimension to what he wanted to achieve in L.A. Getting there successfully, though; that’s what Sean had to figure out. Exercise helped him clear his head and think.
    Mark Dobbs had confirmed what Sean suspected: Zeke had political insiders in his back pocket, from the mayor’s office on down. Thing was, the system had been in place for so long, and involved so many people from so many sectors of the city, it would take a virtual army of attorneys and investigators to successfully unravel the layers of cover-ups. Even lawyers who’d normally go after a corruption case like this had been paid off. That’s what Zeke did. He convinced the best of the best, those who started as opponents, to join his team. Then he made it worth their financial while to do so. At least that’s what everyone in the world of real estate suspected. So far, Brennan & Associates had been too savvy to leave any type of trail that offered concrete proof. The speculation was rampant, the belief absolute. The validity of some sort of corruption was in the numbers. How could one architectural firm legitimately outbid so many other companies, year after year? And, as many suspected, even be the blind partner in dozens of other deals throughout the state?
    This was information Sean had