“I do, but I put every penny back into updating and improving the malls, which benefits my tenants and their businesses.”
“But also benefits you. The improvements increase the value of your properties.”
“True. However, I charge a very low rent compared to many of the other landlords, and my tenants are happy with the deals I’ve offered them. They’re always glad to renew their leases.”
Did he really understand his tenants or was he wishing this was the truth? “How long have you owned these properties?”
He perched his arms on the chair. “I’ve accumulated them over the last three years.”
She counted down the list. “Nine strip malls. That’s a lot of property to buy in three years.”
“It is.” He gave her a tight smile. “But again, I want to give back in a way I know will help my constituents, and the timing was right for me.”
Addy nodded, but something told her there was more to his story. “So why do you need to keep the properties under a shell corp?”
“As I mentioned, I don’t want the leases linked to me. As a politician, my life is an open book. If I didn’t somehow segregate them, word would get out.”
She held out her paper. “Might I trouble you for an updated list that shows when you bought the properties?”
His gaze turned cold. “It’s starting to feel like you’re implying something untoward on my part here.”
“I’m not.” She gave him the best smile she could muster. “I’m just trying to be thorough. I know how busy you are, so I don’t want to have to come back for additional information.”
“I appreciate that.” He stood and towered over her. “Let me get that information for you, and then I’m afraid our time is up.”
“Thank you.” She watched him cross the room with sure strides. “I’m assuming your tenants don’t know you own these buildings?”
“That’s correct,” he said as he sat. “Word would get out if they did.”
“You don’t visit them, then, to see if they need any repairs.”
“I have a management company who handles that for me.” He looked up. “Did you visit the malls and find a problem?”
“No problems. Just another routine question.” She smiled again and felt like her face was going to crack.
The printer started up, and she considered mentioning Razo’s, Zamora’s, or the three sovereign citizens’ names just to see how he reacted.No. Not a good idea.The question wouldalert him to her investigation. He could have his people start digging, warning their suspects that she was hot on their tails.
That’s the last thing she wanted to happen, so she stood and kept her mouth shut. She could always interview him again, though with his closed expression right now, she suspected he would dodge her calls, and she would have her work cut out for her if she wanted to pin him down again.
Mack charged out of his vehicle, along with ASAC Grant Ingersol and three of his agents. Wearing tactical vests and raising their rifles, they rushed down the street toward two men with caps pulled low over their eyes. Mack expected an air of intrigue to surround them. Instead, they looked like two guys just talking, and Mack’s hope that they would find Razo waned.
The sun had long disappeared, and a cold wind whipped against Mack’s body, pelting stinging sand into his face. Into his eyes too, but he kept them wide open as he approached.
“Police!” Ingersol yelled.
“Hands! Hands! Hands!” Mack shouted in case they decided to draw down on him. “Hands where I can see them.”
They lifted their arms, and Mack got his first view of their faces. One of them looked a bit like Razo, and yet Mack couldn’t be sure from this distance.
Three feet in front of the men, Mack took a stance. “Facedown on the ground. Now! Do it!”
They both dropped, and that was his second hint that he wasn’t dealing with Razo. He would’ve balked. Maybe not outright, but he would’ve at least given Mack a look of disdain before he dropped to the ground.
“Cuff them,” Ingersol ordered his men.
The local agents took charge of cuffing the worried men and started searching them.
“Names,” Mack demanded.
