Poor Black Teen Carried a Sick Old Man's Groceries Home — He Had No Idea Who the Man Was
Chapter 14
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At that exact moment, Richard sat inside a cramped management office on the ground floor of West Marlo Towers. The office smelled like stale coffee and old paper; a space heater rattled in the corner. Stacks of maintenance requests sat piled on his desk, most of them unopened: a leaking ceiling in Building B, a broken hallway light, a disabled tenant requesting handrails, three complaints about the elevator, another complaint about the elevator, and another.Richard didn't bother reading them. He simply stamped most of them with the same red mark: Pending, then shoved them into a drawer. Out of sight, out of mind. That had been his system for years. It worked—or at least it had worked so far.He leaned back in his chair and glanced through the blinds toward the parking lot. Rainwater still sat in puddles from yesterday's storm. The old apartment complex looked tired, just like the people who lived there. Richard never saw families, never saw struggles, never saw people—only numbers: rent collected, rent overdue, maintenance costs, profit margins.The phone on his desk rang. He picked it up. "West Marlo Management."A nervous voice answered: "Mr. Caine, corporate requested copies of repair records."Richard frowned. "What records?""The elevator."Silence. A strange silence. Then Richard laughed. "Why?""I don't know, sir.""Who asked?""The request came from Whitmore Holdings downtown."Richard's smile faded. "Who exactly?"The employee checked. "Margaret Cole's office."Richard sat up for the first time all morning. Margaret Cole. That name mattered: Margaret worked directly for Arthur Whitmore. Requests from her office rarely happened, and when they did, somebody usually lost their job.Richard's stomach tightened. "Send me the email."The line disconnected. A few seconds later, his computer chimed. Richard opened the message. Read it once, then again: Request all maintenance reports related to West Marlo Towers, including repair history, tenant complaints, elevator documentation, safety inspections.He stared at the screen. The heater suddenly felt too warm, because there was one problem—actually, several problems: the elevator budget had been approved months ago; the repairs should have been completed; the money had been allocated; the invoices existed; the paperwork looked clean. But the repairs themselves had never happened.Richard swallowed hard.Meanwhile, several miles away, Jamal's shift finally ended. The afternoon sky remained gray; cold wind swept through the city. Jamal stepped outside the community kitchen and pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders. His body felt tired—not unusual tired, but the kind of tired that lived in his bones.