“Well, I’m a real estate developer,” he said, with the easy confidence of the highly successful. “I develop shopping centers, or strip malls if you prefer, in Chester County, Montgomery County, and other Philadelphia and Wilmington-area suburbs. My company does about two billion a year. I ain’t Rouse, but I’m getting there.”
“So you’re not in the construction business, per se.”
“God, no.” Roser brushed off the thought as if it were lint on his pants. “I hire builders to build my shopping centers. Frank gave me a call because he knew that I hired Coluzzi to build a center for us recently, in South Philly, and it’s been nothing but a nightmare.”
Judy’s pen was poised. “Tell me why.”
“The project has been a comedy of errors from start to finish. All along the subs weren’t performing—”
“Subs?”
“Subcontractors. See, Coluzzi is the general contractor, and he hires the subs to do the electrical, HVAC, plumbing, and the like. Also site prep, that is, excavation and compaction to receive foundations.”
“Compaction?”
“Soil compaction. If the soil isn’t compacted properly, it’ll fail over time, due to superimposed loads on the foundation.” Roser caught himself. “In other words, it’ll fall down someday. And in this South Philly shopping center we had an environmental issue, too, because it was on city-owned land, right near the waterfront. Delaware Avenue, or whatever they renamed it to. Soil runoff during construction had to be controlled or the EPA would be all over us.”
Judy made a note. “So this was a public contract.”
“Yes. It was our first contract with Philly and I hoped to do more, since Rendell and Cohen turned the city around. This was supposed to get me in good with the city. Get my foot in the door. Instead it ended up in my mouth.”
“How?”
“I hired Coluzzi because their bid came in lowest, but they didn’t lowball me, and I knew they had connections in South Philly.”
“Connections?”
“If you mean mob, I’m not goin’ there. I got no proof of that.” Roser patted his hair back quickly. “But I can and will talk to you about what I know, which is what they did to me. Because I got proof out the wazoo. My tenants are screaming their heads off.”
“Like what?”
“Major structural problems.” Roser leaned forward and started counting with an outstretched thumb. “The walls crack in the dry cleaners, the floors buckle in the Japanese restaurant, the joints are twisted in the entrance area. The shopping center looks
like a fuckin’ cartoon. Excuse me.”
“No problem.” Judy hurried to write it all down.
“The windows were installed improperly, so a breeze goes through the Szechuan restaurant, around table five. The support stairs sag in Blockbuster Video, and an employee fell down last week and broke his leg. The ceilings for all of the tenants—there are fifteen businesses who lease from me—leaked almost from the beginning. We’re already on our third roof.” Roser picked up a leather portfolio from beside his wing chair and slid from it a thick manila folder. “This is the file I keep of complaints. Hefty, huh? Quite a way to make a reputation with the city.” He handed it to Judy, and she opened it up.
NOTICE OF NON-RENEWAL, it said at the top, and Judy skimmed the document. It was a written notice by a tenant, given pursuant to a lease agreement. “The tenants are bailing, huh?”
“Correction.” Roser pointed at the top. “The anchor tenant, Philcor drugstore, is bailing. Now they’ll all jump ship. That is, if I’m lucky. If I’m not, I’ve got the sequel to Society Hilltop on my hands, and it all comes tumbling down.”
Judy closed the folder, deep in thought. By Society Hilltop, Roser was referring to a dance club on the waterfront that had collapsed, killing ten people. It had been reported that the tragedy was caused by structural failure. Only one problem. Although what Roser was telling her was terrible, it didn’t help her. Shoddy workmanship was only breach of contract, and a contract suit didn’t have the counterpunch she needed. But there was still one thing Judy didn’t get.
“If the Coluzzis do such lousy work, how do they make so much money?” she asked.
Roser shot Frank a how-naïve-is-your-girl look, then faced Judy. “They’re dirty, dear. I looked into those subs they hired, and no way were they qualified to build for us. They got the job because they kicked back to Coluzzi and his sons. Then in order to make any profit on the job at all, they had to cut corners in the construction of my center. They didn’t build according to plans and specs. I got left holding the bag.”
Judy brightened. Kickbacks trumped breach of contract. She tried to sound more savvy. “What’s up with the inspectors? Are they paid off as well?”
“Have to be.” Roser nodded. “In any construction project, there are two levels of inspectors. City inspectors, who know what they’re doing but don’t care, and bank inspectors, who care but don’t know what they’re doing.”
Judy didn’t ask if he was kidding.
“Bottom line, Coluzzi pays off the city inspectors at least. The bank inspectors are only a possibility.”
Judy was too excited to make any more notes. The city was involved, and major banks. “How do you know this?”
“One of the subs, McRea, who paved the parking lot, just built Marco Coluzzi a new driveway in his house down the shore, in Longport. I heard about it from a friend of mine, so I drove by and saw it. It’s got storm drains and all. That’s a $130,000 driveway. Now, when I hear it’s my sub, who’s doing a shit job for me, I put two and two together. The Coluzzis won’t hire Irish or black unless they have to. McRea’s been ignoring my calls all week.”
“You’re calling him?”
“Goddamn right I am. But I’ll get him, and he’ll give. Crooks are like that. Lean on any one of ’em and they’ll flip on Coluzzi. There really is no honor among thieves. They’ll eat each other alive.”
Judy set down her pen. Time to close the deal. Do or die, literally. “Well, Dan, I’ll be honest with you. I can think of several major causes of action you could bring against the Coluzzis based on these facts. The most effective would be a suit under RICO, the federal racketeering statute, for bribery, kickbacks, and other offenses. It carries major damages and penalties. I can represent you, and I’d love to. But I can’t bring the suit unless you give me the green light.”
Roser eased back in his cushy chair and tented thick fingers, then sighed and looked at Frank. “Sorry, pal,” he said after a moment. “I know this matters to you, and you almost convinced me on the phone. We’ve known each other a long time, but the Coluzzis are tough customers.”
“I can handle them,” Judy blurted out, and Roser looked over in surprise.
“You can.”
“I can.”
Roser smiled in a condescending way. “Why should I sue the Coluzzis? I took a bath, but I’ll write all of it off and I could use the deductions. What do I get out of suing?”
It was an excellent question. Judy scanned Roser’s leather-bound books, the brass fastenings on the classy chairs, the costly palette of an oil landscape on the paneled wall. Money damages wouldn’t motivate Dan Roser. “There is one thing,” she said, and the developer cocked his head.
“Which is?”
“Justice,” she answered, and Frank looked over.
“And if justice doesn’t do it for you,” he added, “how about revenge?”
Baccarat champagne flutes clinked expensively as they met in the center of a merry group that included Judy, Frank, Dan Roser, and his gorgeous trophy wife, Trish. Judy was pretty sure Trish was a recent Student Council member, but didn’t say so. She was in too good a mood to let it bother her anyway. Trish was old enough to be out of orthodonture, and love was a good thing wherever you found it. Even with a client’s grandson. She raised her flute. “To the law.”