Finley reached across the desk, grabbed a pen, flipped to a blank page on Stein’s legal pad, and then jotted “Rapp Badde cell” and a ten-digit number. Stein noted that he’d done it so swiftly and in a perfect penmanship that could only be described as elegant.
“Thank you,” Finley said. “See you soon, Con.”
“Con”? Stein thought.
He said, “May I ask who’s Constantine?”
“Constantine Christofi,” Finley said, gently tucking his phone back in his sweater pocket. “He’s in your line of work-a lawyer-but in commercial property development and marketing. He’s truly a dear old friend.”
“How is it that he had-and you knew he had-Badde’s cell. . cellular number?” Stein then chuckled. “Although I wouldn’t mind if it actually was a prison cell number.”
“That snake in the grass is rather adept at pissing people off, isn’t he? A classic example of an equal opportunity offender.”
“I’m not in any way trying to excuse him,” Stein said, “but he does come about it honestly, for lack of a better word. The entire city council is pretty much that way. Rapp’s simply had a head start at perfecting it having learned from his father.”
–
City Councilman (At Large) H. Rapp Badde Jr. was the thirty-two-year-old son of Horatio R. Badde Sr., a onetime South Philly barber who had also served on the city council before being elected mayor of the City of Philadelphia.
The younger Badde, who saw himself moving up in political office in a similar manner, could be at turns arrogant and charismatic. He carried on the elder’s tradition of an above-reproach attitude, including the fevered application of deny-and-spin when confronted with anything that might appear unseemly.
Learning that skill at the master’s feet had come in handy months earlier, when the bow-tied politician had been spotted on the tiny island of Bermuda. The fact that the usually publicity-happy Rapp Badde had been there attending a conference on-of all things in such a place-urban renewal hadn’t been his biggest problem. What had set his deny-and-spin into high gear had been the photographs of him that had been leaked to the local media back home. Apparently someone had recognized Badde and snapped a series of images of him on the beach in a compromising position with his gorgeous twenty-five-year-old executive assistant.
That proved to be a bit much to swallow for even Philadelphia’s tough-skinned taxpayers-not to mention Badde’s wife of seven years. There was outrage. At least at first.
Like his father, Rapp Badde managed once again to deflect his detractors.
–
“To answer your question, Ed, I met with Constantine last week following a PEGI meeting.”
Stein nodded. Finley had pronounced the acronym Peggy; it stood for Philadelphia Economic Gentrification Initiative.
“Aha,” Stein said, “and like the Public Safety Committee, Badde also serves on the Housing and Urban Development Committee.”
“Not only on it. The city council president appointed him as its chairman. HUD’s PEGI is his baby-remember, that was his excuse for going with that hot young assistant of his, Janelle Harper, on a ‘fact-finding mission’ to the conference in Bermuda.”
Stein chuckled. “Where he and said assistant were photographed rolling on the beach wearing little more than grins. Taxpayer-paid assistant, I might add. She gets a hundred and eighty grand, almost twice his council salary. And you have to give him credit for avoiding any divorce papers being served when he came back.”
Finley snorted.
“Well, don’t give him too much credit. Word on the street about that is the wife, Wanda, booted him out of their very nice house while she considers her options. I think she’s a lawyer, too.”
“Then she should know that divorce court judges in Pennsylvania,” Stein said, “like those in many other states, don’t want to hear the word infidelity-or even ‘alienation of affection.’”
“Oh, really?”
“They’ve decided that if cheating on a spouse were the basis for finding fault and awarding assets, the courts would be clogged far worse than they are now. The judges send the warring parties to arbitration with instructions not to think about coming near the courthouse until they’ve reached a signed settlement.”
“Huh. Well, I’m sure, like a lot of wives, she has some other dirt on him. Or can dig it up, which would fall under ‘considers her options.’”
“That would be interesting.”
“Yeah, as is the fact,” Finley went on, “that PEGI is at least knee-deep, if not up to its neck, in the Volks Haus and Diamond Development projects.”
Again Stein nodded thoughtfully. He knew that the city, which was to say the Philadelphia Economic Gentrification Initiative, had demolished multiple blocks of housing in the upper end of the Northern Liberties neighborhood. The demolition was to make way for a giant multiple sports stadium-a project of Diamond Development-and it had forced residents from their decrepit row houses and taken ownership of the properties using the strong-armed provisions of Eminent Domain.
To temper the blow to those who were displaced-as well as to keep other of Badde’s constituents happy-PEGI promised to offer low-rent housing in its new Volks Haus. The “People’s House” would be built in the Fairmount area, only a few miles west of their old neighborhood.
Stein said, “Weren’t there dead bodies discovered inside when the wrecking crew tore down those last row houses?”
“Yeah, maybe two, three men? They were holdouts remonstrating about being forced to leave after their landlords had to sell to PEGI. I think that they’re part of this year’s three hundred sixty-something total count.”
“Then they were murdered?”
“If I recall correctly, the police could not find what had killed them-except maybe that twenty-ton wrecking ball that the first resident became snagged on. The deaths were ruled as suspicious.”
“Strange.”
Finley raised his eyebrows and nodded.
“Much like PEGI itself, Ed. Or I should say Badde. I haven’t quite figured out the whole thing. Not that I really have time to do that. But something about it isn’t kosher. The more I’m around that, the more uncomfortable I get. Still, I’m committed to working with Constantine on the future marketing of the Diamond Development stadium. And he’s the one stuck working with Badde.”
“And so he has his cell phone number.”
Finley put his fingertips on the legal pad and spun it so that what he had written on it was right-side up to Stein.
“And now you do. This could well be a case of ‘Be careful what you wish for, because you damn sure may get it.’”
Stein met Finley’s eyes.
“Dumb question, James?”
“There are no dumb questions.”
“How come you’re doing this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought in Carlucci’s office that I was about to lose you.”
“That I’d quit? So quickly?”
“Yeah.”
“You know me better than that.”
“‘In for a penny, in for a pound,’ as Ben Franklin said when-”
“When quote he was our distinguished ambassador to England before the Revolution unquote,” Finley finished. “At least that’s what our fearless leader Francis Fuller keeps telling us.”
Finley snorted again, and then in a serious tone went on: “Philly is the fifth-largest city in the United States, second on the East Coast, for which we’re sometimes called New York City’s sixth borough. We have one and a half million residents, yet more than twenty-five percent of them live in poverty. Our unemployment rate averages eleven percent-and in places like Kensington it spikes to fifty percent. That’s got to change. Center City and a handful of neighborhoods are more or less going great. But cities rise and fall as a whole, and for Philly to truly thrive, the whole has to be healthy. As long as I’m on the job, I’ll give all I’ve got and more for that to happen.”