He dialed a priority emergency number and brought the phone to his ear.
His gravelly voice cut through the patter of the rain like a thunderclap:
"This is Walter Madden."
The manager stopped dead in his tracks. Richard turned slowly around, his eyes wide in sudden bewilderment.
"Get my attorney here," the old man commanded into the receiver, his gaze piercing directly into Richard’s soul.
"And bring the will."
Chapter IV: The Fleet on Mercer Street
Richard let out a nervous, mocking chuckle, though his hands began to twitch: "Walter Madden? You think throwing around the founder's name will scare me? The Madden family owns three hundred franchises across the country—you're just an old vagrant in a wet coat!"
Before Richard could take another breath, the wail of sirens echoed down the avenue.