Councilman Ward leaned in. “What, exactly, is your starting bid?”
Unperturbed, Russert explained, “The bid starts at the value our financiers determine. To find out this information, you must be in attendance Friday afternoon at three o’clock, when the auction commences.”
Marquell spoke up. “There’s one person who won’t be in attendance.”
Ellie must’ve realized the police chief was staring her down. She blinked rapidly and her cheeks blazed crimson.
Carter cupped her shoulder, his thumb tracing soothing circles along the base of her neck. “What does that mean?” he demanded on her behalf.
Marquell ignored him and looked straight at Russert. “The time for concessions has come and gone.” The police chief withdrew a tri-folded paper from his inner coat pocket, tossing it on the table. “I have a warrant.”
Russert shot to his feet. “This is outrageous.” He gestured to Judge Avery. “Did you sign this order?”
Avery squirmed in his seat. “It’s not exactly how it seems...”
“Then how is it?” Ellie demanded, her eyes blazing like the sun. “This is my life you’re debating.”
The table went silent.
Shoulders squared, she addressed the men. “Did you gather tonight to watch the show? To break us down further, because our backs are against the wall, and you enjoy kicking people when they’re down?” Her voice trembled, but she recovered. “We’re already as low as we can go without signing the entire hotel over to you, to pay for the loans my father accepted.”
Russert inhaled sharply through his nose. Carter rubbed a hand over his eyes, knowing she’d unintentionally invited trouble.
Marquell grinned malevolently. “That’ll work.”
Ellie softened her tone. “Please, two more days. That’s all I’m asking. When the sale is complete, you will have the money and interest on your Revitalization Loan.”
Marquell made a great show of unfolding the warrant. “You’ve had a long reprieve, Miss Montgomery. This warrant was signed back in—” He peered at the date, drawing out the suspense. “September. These good folks have given you two months to pay up. Now, you’re going to have to come with me.”
Chapter 8
Oh, my God, I’m going to jail .
Perspiration broke out across Ellie’s forehead. Her skin prickled as if she’d fallen face first onto a cactus. Her mouth went bone dry. She tried to swallow, but her throat rebelled like she’d gulped a bucket of sand.
Panicking, she flicked her glance from Carter to her uncle. Russert looked furious. Carter tapped his shoe under the table as if he could barely restrain his aggression.
Jaw clenched, eyes flashing a dangerous gunmetal gray, he appeared ready to kill someone. Though his hands rested flat on the table, Ellie believed if Bill Marquell made a move, Carter would wrap his fingers around the police chief’s throat.
Her stomach pitched with fear.
What am I going to do?
To her mortification, Andre’s marvelous dinner was about to make a second appearance. She swallowed hard, trying not to vomit. Lashes fluttering, she parted her lips to speak. No words came. What could she possibly say?
She scooted her chair back, wishing she could stop shaking. She prepared herself to go into custody.
Then James appeared. “At Mr. Stratton’s request, I’ve brought up something rare from the cellar.” Holding the antique green bottle with a serving cloth, James tipped the faded label for everyone to see.
Judge Avery tore his gaze away from Ellie’s breasts to retrieve his reading glasses. “My word...”
Councilman Ward’s expression registered shock. “Is this what I think?
Carter explained. “We’ve made arrangements to provide each of you with a case of genuine bootlegged Jamaican rum and Italian wine—aged for over ninety years.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” The police chief drained his whisky and slammed down his glass.
James uncorked the bottle of rum and poured.
At the first sip, Mr. Marquell’s eyes bugged out. “This,” he rasped, “would pickle a pig’s liver. Where in the name of Ben Franklin did you get it?”
“The Montgomery Hotel holds many treasures.” Carter nodded at the bottle. “I recently discovered one of them.”
Marquell eyed him. “A case of this would sell for a fortune.”
“It’s yours. Do with it what you like.”
The priceless cases were distributed promptly. “This is unbelievable,” the mayor remarked. “Was El Dorado Island used for rum-running during Prohibition?”
Carter nodded. “Looks that way.”