House Revenge Read Free

him.”
    â€œYou’re taking a stand ?” Mahoney said.
    â€œThat’s right. This kind of crap is happening all over this country. Places like Manhattan and San Francisco and Boston are becoming the domains of the ultrarich. The poor folks are being forced out and replaced with people who can afford to spend millions on condos or five or ten grand a month for rent. The rent on little mom-and-pop stores is set so high that none of the small shops can afford to stay in business and they’re being replaced by swanky boutiques where only rich people shop. I read just the other day in the paper, out there in Seattle, some developer is trying to force a bunch of tenants out of an apartment complex and an old lady like me is taking the guy on. So I’m taking a stand.”
    â€œHuh,” Mahoney said.
    But Mahoney actually liked this problem. He didn’t really think he could stop the developer from renovating the area where Elinore lived, but he could take her side on the issue. He’d give a speech about the need for affordable urban housing and how developers can’t be allowed to do what this guy was doing: cutting off the heat and power and using scare tactics to force her out. Yeah, he’d hold a press conference with Elinore at his side; she was articulate and photogenic in a feisty, little-old-lady kind of way and would look great standing next to him. He’d rant about income inequality and show how he was on the side of all the poor folks like Elinore Dobbs.
    Then he’d go see the developer and get the guy to knock off the bullshit, at least for a while, so Mahoney would look like he’d made a difference. He’d tell him to blame what was happening on his employees, like these McNulty goons, and say that they’d been overzealous and doing things he didn’t approve of. Then he’d tell him to make Elinore a deal she couldn’t refuse; hell, a place on Cape Cod would probably be cheaper than what Elinore was costing him by delaying his construction project. Yep, Mahoney would champion the little people and would look good doing so, and when Elinore was eventually forced to move . . . Well, he could show that he’d done his best—and find some way to blame the Republicans.
    â€œWhat’s the name of this developer?” Mahoney asked.
    â€œSean Callahan,” Elinore said.
    Mahoney almost smiled. This was perfect. He knew Callahan well. He also knew a little about Callahan’s development in Boston. It was huge, and Elinore Dobbs’s building was just a small part of it.
    But he didn’t smile, and he didn’t tell Elinore he knew Callahan. Instead he said, “Callahan. Yeah, I’ve heard about him,” making it sound as if Callahan was evil incarnate.
    He called Maggie and told her to send in one of the kids. He was hoping she’d send in the good-looking coed again. Instead she sent in one of the boys—a tall, gangly dork who was probably a genius as Maggie only hired geniuses, and he was probably rich as she only hired kids whose parents were likely to contribute to Mahoney.
    â€œWhat’s your name again?” Mahoney asked the boy. He’d never known the kid’s name.
    â€œMason Stanhope,” the kid said.
    What a yuppie fuckin’ name! But Mahoney knew Stanhope’s father; he was a lawyer who’d made his money filing class action lawsuits against airline companies and had a house as big as a medieval castle on Martha’s Vineyard—another place where only rich people can afford to live.
    â€œMason, this is Elinore Dobbs. I want you to sit down with her and write down all the stuff she’s going to tell you. Elinore, you give Mason the facts. Dates, specific people you’ve contacted, details about the things these McNulty creeps have done. And Mason, you tell one of the guys you work with—like maybe that young lady who brought me the copy of my Knights of Columbus