They concluded that he wouldn’t, based on his loyal service over the years, so Duncan went away to look into whose bank account he had been transferring the money to, while Bennett reviewed the security tapes on the premises to see if anyone had visited Blunt around the times the transactions took place.
Another hour or so later, and they had both come up with the same name.
Caroline Dawson.
She had a seat on the Pittsburgh City Council, and she had been on Trent’s payroll since taking the position three years earlier. She had visited Blunt on the day the transfers had taken place, and sure enough, the money was moved to her bank account.
Duncan and Bennett took this to Trent, who immediately arranged an appointment at her office for a meeting. They explained to him that Caroline Dawson was, in some way, blackmailing or extorting Tommy Blunt. There was no other contact, either historically or recently, between the two of them that could offer an alternative explanation.
The driver pulled up outside the Council Chambers on Grant Street. Trent looked out of his window at the building for a moment before speaking.
“Wait here,” he said to the driver, before addressing his enforcers. “You two, come with me.”
He stepped out of the car with an uncharacteristic grace and walked purposefully up the steps, past the commemorative statue of Richard Caligiuri, and entered the building.
The entrance lacked the extravagance you would’ve expected from the outside, settling instead for a standard front desk with a wooden counter and paneling, just inside the doors on the right. The area was simply a wide corridor, with elevators at the far end and offices along both sides, interrupted by a single corridor about halfway down that led off to right, accessing other parts of the building.
Trent completely ignored the receptionist, striding intently past the desk and across the tiled floor to the elevators; the heels of his black, polished shoes echoed around the large entrance area. She stood, about to say something as they past her, but Bennett shot her a glance that made her reconsider.
Trent knew everything about everyone he had on his payroll. For example, that Caroline would be in the building that afternoon because of a monthly Council meeting scheduled at four p.m, and that she would be working out of one of the temporary offices the members of the City Council used when on the premises.
They took the elevator to the second floor and turned right as the doors dinged open, walking along a narrow corridor, illuminated by the gray light shining through the large windows along the left wall. After a few moments, Trent and his men came to the office and, without knocking, he thrust open the door and stepped inside.
Caroline was a slightly overweight woman in her late forties. She had light brown hair with gray streaks running through it, cut into a bob that rested on her slight shoulders. Wearing a purple dress suit and matching shoes, she was sitting on one side of a large table that took up most of the room. Opposite her were two men, both in suits, who Trent didn’t recognize. He presumed they were other members of the City Council, but they didn’t concern him in the slightest.
“You two,” he said to them as he entered. “Fuck off.”
They opened their mouths to protest, but it only took one step forward from Duncan to convince them to leave. Both men looked at Caroline, gathered their papers off the desk, and left in a hurry.
Caroline remained in her seat, trembling slightly as she opened and closed her mouth, debating whether to say anything. She glanced at the two men with him, before resting her gaze on Trent himself, who remained silent, staring long and hard at Caroline, watching her fight to maintain some level of composure.
Duncan and Bennett moved over to the left of the room, standing behind her and leaning against the wall, which was plain and painted in a sickly cream color.
Trent took a seat at the table opposite her, leaning forward and clasping his hands in front of him as he rested on the desk. “Caroline,” he said, his voice calm and professional. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
She glanced at the table for a second, frowning with thought, and then shook her head. “No,” she replied, a faint quiver in her voice. “I was going to report anything of interest to you later in the week, once we’d had our Council meeting this afternoon, but looking at the agenda I don’t think there will be anything noteworthy.”
Trent smiled, both impressed and frustrated at her convincing response. “Let me re-phrase my question. You have something to tell me, don’t you?”
He glared at her with his cold eyes, the professionalism giving way to anger. She looked over her shoulder at his two enforcers, who were looking on with disinterest at what was happening. She looked back at Trent.
“Is this about Tommy?” she asked.
“It’s more about the money he was stealing from me to give to you,” he said. “I want to know why.”
She put a hand over her mouth and started crying, looking down and sobbing uncontrollably. Trent rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, expressing his impatience.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Trent. You have to believe me!”
“Oh, I believe you’re feeling very apologetic now you’ve been caught. But I want to know what you and Tommy Blunt were up to. You can either tell me now of your own accord, or my associates over there are going to make you tell me. And that… wouldn’t be pleasant.”
“Oh, God!” she shrieked before bursting into tears again.
Trent sighed and stood, walking around the table to stand next to her. He placed his right hand on her shoulder, like a concerned friend, and looked down.
“Caroline, you’ve been a big help to me over the last couple of years, and I’ve paid you well for it. Haven’t I?”
She nodded eagerly but remained silent.
“And you know that if you ever have a problem, with anything, you can come to me with it, and we’ll sort it together, right?”
She nodded again.
Without warning, Trent grabbed her throat with his left hand, squeezing firmly and forcing her head back. When he spoke, his demeanor had changed dramatically. He yelled, “Then why the fuck was Tommy Blunt stealing fifteen thousand dollars a month from me and giving it to you?”
Her eyes were wide, and she gasped for breath, clutching his wrist with both hands, struggling against his grip. “P-please…” she rasped, sniffing up and closing her eyes tightly, forcing tears to roll slowly down her cheek.
Trent released her, and she leant forward, panicking and sucking in deep breaths as she massaged her throat. “I’m sorry,” she began. “I should’ve come to you, I know that now.”
Trent said nothing; he just glared at her again.
“It’s my son…” she continued. “He has leukemia and I’m… I’m struggling to pay for the medical treatment he needs. I’d scraped together every cent I could for so long, but I was running out of options.” She pulls a tissue from her pocket and wipes her eyes. “Then, about six months ago, I came across T-Tommy’s name in a police report sent to us for assessment. It seemed he was being… being careless and attracting attention to what really makes the money at that strip club he works out of.”
Caroline blew her nose and took a deep, jittery breath, but Trent coughed impatiently, and made a get on with it gesture with his hand.
“There were plans to make an arrest and bring him in for questioning,” she continued. “I knew it was your club, so I took it upon myself to go and see him, give him a heads up. I told him everything and he started to panic because he was so afraid of you… I–I told him I could make it all go away and save him, but he’d have to give me the money each month as repayment.” She hung her head ashamedly. “He said no initially, but I threatened to come to you about how careless he’d been and he gave in. I saw an opportunity to make some extra money for my son and I took it…”