Page 21 of Stone
“He was born and raised in Oklahoma,” Monk continued. “A formerly thriving farm town that, by the time Gregor camealong, was little more than a truck stop about sixty miles from Oklahoma City. Like Lowery and Polinsky, he joined the military after high school. We’ll find out which branch,” he said, with a pointed look at Philly, who responded with a sharp nod.
“After fulfilling his commitment, he moved to New Orleans, but there isn’t much about him after that. Not until he shows up in California shortly before Lowery’s first election.”
“Any work history in New Orleans?” Philly asked.
Monk shook his head. “None I could find. When he arrived in California, though, he had enough money to buy a six-unit apartment building in one of the gentrifying neighborhoods. It was a fixer, and he lived there during the renovations, but he dropped three million on it.”
“And that’s how his development career started?” she said more than asked.
Monk tipped his head. “In California. What he was doing in New Orleans is still a mystery. I’m curious what would keep him off the radar but leave him with enough money to buy that kind of property in San Francisco.”
“Yes, I’m curious, too,” she said. Philly and Simon nodded.
“So other than possibly the military, there’s no obvious link between the three men,” she said, her mind spinning with options and ideas.
“I’ll confirm that—or not—by tomorrow morning,” Philly said.
“What I don’t understand is that the board of supervisors doesn’t approve development projects,” she said. “Not in San Francisco, anyway. There’s a planning commission that does that.”
“The board isn’t involved at all?” Simon asked.
Mentally, she sorted through her memories. She’d gone to dinner once with someone from the commission. His insight into the inner workings of the historic preservation aspects ofthe commission had been far more interesting than the man himself, and she’d peppered him with questions about his work. At the end of the night, though, he’d mistaken her interest in what he did as an interest in him, and it hadn’t ended well. She’d walked away with unique insights and facts, though, so she’d chosen to chalk it up as a win.
“The board of supervisors selects several of the members of the commission,” she said, the long-ago conversation coming back to her. “The mayor picks the majority, but the board picks the rest. I think there are seven total,” she answered.
“There are,” Monk confirmed, his attention focused on his computer, no doubt looking it up.
“So if the board doesn’t decide, it’s not likely he’s being blackmailed to pass development projects,” she said.
“Not unless he has commissioners in his pocket,” Simon replied.
“The supervisors are the legislative branch of the local government,” Monk said, reading from his computer. “They don’t approve projects, but they approve zoning laws.”
“Land use ordinances,” she said. He nodded. She wagged her head. “That’s an interesting angle.”
“Arguably, influencing land use ordinances is more valuable than the ability to approve a specific project,” Simon said. “If he can influence how neighborhoods grow or what businesses are allowed in certain areas, I imagine a developer would find that useful.”
“I agree,” she said. “So what’s the controversy around the Bayview project?”
“A lot of people wanted low-income housing built there,” Monk said. “But the board designated it as a historically important site. One faction thinks it’s good because it supposedly protects the current inhabitants. But a lot of folks see it as a way to keep low-income development out of the area.”
“Why?” Philly asked.
Simon’s eyes narrowed. “Because if they can’t build to scale?—”
“Or they have to build around existing businesses and residences,” she interjected.
“Then they can’t afford to build at all. Not the kind of homes that would be accessible to low-income individuals or families,” Simon said.
“Leaving the only option being custom builders or higher-end developers,” Philly finished, his voice heavily laced with disgust.
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves, though,” she said. “We don’t know if that’s what’s going on—although it sounds like an option. We need to do more research.”
Monk’s and Philly’s gaze darted to Simon. Her heart sank. An afternoon on the computer wouldn’t be good for him. He hadn’t shared the extent of his injury, but headaches could be a bitch. Especially big ones. And it wasn’t as though Simon would ever say anything, not even if his head felt as if it were splitting in two.
“Do we have any potential ideas as to Polinsky’s involvement?” she asked Philly.
He shook his head. “Based on what you overheard, it sounds like there are drug deals his officers are turning a blind eye to, but I didn’t find anything to substantiate that.”
