by G. K. Parks
“Will do.”
That went a lot easier than I thought, but I had a sneaking suspicion Cross would find some way to insinuate himself into my case again. He always did. Sighing, I took a seat and read through Noah Ripley’s extensive background. I made a few notes to call the Dean of Admissions at his alma mater to find out if he had ever been a student. It was easy to fake the paperwork. It was a little more difficult to convince complete strangers to lie for you.
I reviewed the business profile on R&P. It didn’t stand up to scrutiny. It was a new establishment. Something that existed in name alone for five years before getting taken off the shelf, dusted off, and used as an actual entity. Noah Ryder/Ripley was a grifter, a talented liar who planned at least three moves ahead. He knew how to run a long con. As far as I could tell, he’d been doing it for at least half a decade.
“Is this the guy?” I asked Don when he entered my office. I held up the photo from the surveillance feed.
“That’s Noah. How’d you find him?”
“I let him find me.”
“Okay, so now what?” Don helped himself to the bottle of bourbon sitting on the cart in the corner. “When do I get the rest of the cryptocurrency?”
“That will be a little trickier, but I’m working on it.”
“Then why did you call me?”
I chuckled. “I thought it might be important to make sure I had the right guy before I accuse him of stealing ten million dollars.”
Don swallowed and looked around the office. “Wow, it’s just like those crime shows but on steroids. I didn’t think actual cops did this.”
“They don’t. In case you forgot, I’m not an actual cop.”
“I didn’t forget.” He finished his drink, turning his focus to some of the other photos on the wall. “What’s this about?”
“Different case,” I said dismissively.
He stared at the red car for a long time. “That looks like a Grand Prix, maybe a ’92.”
“Are you a car guy?” No one had been able to pin down a year given the crappy angle of the surveillance camera.
“No, but my first driving lesson was in one of those. It’s weird. I haven’t seen a car like that in years, and now they’re just popping up all over the place. Who knew any were left on the road?”
“You’ve seen that car before?”
He thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Where?”
“Probably while I was stuck in traffic.” He prattled on about crosstown traffic during rush hour, but I tuned him out and went to the computer. According to the DMV, there were less than fifty registered in the city. “Is that it?” he asked.
I looked up from the screen. “Yes, Mr. Klassi. Thank you for your time. I will update you as soon as I know something.”
“See that you do.” He put his empty glass on the edge of my desk. “I need that coin as soon as you can get it.”
Twelve
Finding the car shouldn’t be this hard. It was old. Like Klassi said, not many were left on the road. I rubbed my eyes and closed the search box. I’d gone through every vehicle in the database that fit the parameters and cross-referenced that information with driver’s license photos. Granted, I didn’t know exactly what the assailant looked like, but male, 5’10 to 6’2, roughly 170-200 pounds, and between the ages of eighteen and forty-five provided a broad enough range to include my attacker. However, no one who owned an old red car fit that description.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I growled at the screen.
“I didn’t say anything yet,” Kellan said from the doorway. We hadn’t spoken much since the attack. He felt guilty, and I was still pissed he thought I would sleep with Cross for special treatment. “What’s going on?”
“I thought I had a lead on the bastard with the knife, but it turned into another dead end.” I gave him my undivided attention. “What do you want?”
“Since Renner and I are working late, we were going to order in from the Italian place. We wondered if you wanted anything.”
“Zuppa Toscana and a garden salad.”
“Okay.” He hesitated to leave. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
I shook my head and reached for the folder on Noah Ripley. When I glanced back at the door, Kellan was gone. Noah Ripley had an impressive CV listed on the R&P Asset Management website, so I dove deeper, checking everything I could find on him. Then I did another search on Noah Ryder.
On a hunch, I searched social media sites, specifically those geared toward professionals. The names Noah Ryder and Ripley returned several hits for what appeared to be nearly duplicate accounts, except the locations differed. Maybe our grifter was also an identity thief. The best cons always had the most truth behind them. So maybe Noah Ryder did exist, and this impersonator decided to use some of Noah’s actual details in creating his backstory in order to ensure he’d pass muster should his fictitious persona come under scrutiny.
“You son of a bitch.” The same was true for Noah Ripley, including his alma mater and alleged job history. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find an actual photo. Surely, the real Noah Ripley, if there was a real Noah Ripley, must have been photographed at some point.
I went back into the DMV records, looking for Ryder or Ripley or any way to prove the man I met earlier this evening was not who he said he was. In the event I was forced to confront him, the more evidence I had, the easier it would be to convince him to return Klassi’s money. Involving the authorities would be a nonstarter. It’d be years before enough evidence was collected, and who knew how many counts of identity theft and criminal fraud this man had committed. Don wanted his money now. He didn’t want to wait, and he didn’t want the cops involved. Cross would back that play. As usual, I was between a rock and a hard place.
Stop it, Parker. You’re not a fed, I reminded myself, returning my focus to understanding Noah. The best way to resolve this for my client would be to out con the con man. That meant I needed to work on Alexandra’s backstory and motivation and make sure she fit the mold for Noah’s perfect mark.
The profile Cross’s people created was decent. Alexandra Scott seduced her professor’s rich friend and married Conrad as soon as she completed her MFA. Conrad whisked her off to Europe, where they lived for the first eighteen months of their marriage. Inevitably, they returned to the States. By then, Conrad had grown bored. Despite his wandering eye, the prenup said if the marriage lasted less than ten years, Alexandra got nothing.
The writing on the wall and the lengthy list of Conrad’s ex-wives indicated he never planned on their marriage lasting a lifetime, let alone a decade. That made Alexandra desperate. Time was running out. Maybe I’d up the ante during a future meeting with Noah and tell him my husband already lined up wife number five.
I was just adding some final notes when Bennett Renner poked his head into my office. “Food’s here.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right there.”
I finished what I was writing and went to grab my dinner before one of the guys ate it. Bennett had a pizza box in front of him, and Kellan was rummaging in the fridge for a bottle of iced tea. Bennett gestured to the seat across from him where my container of soup and salad were sitting inside a plastic bag. Picking up the receipt, I reached into my pocket for some cash.
“Don’t worry about it,” Bennett said. “I got you.”
“Thanks.”
He jerked his chin at the chair. “Why don’t you join us?”
“I have too much to do.”
“Sit down,” Kellan said, “unless you’re freaked to eat with me again.”
“Your table manners aren’t that bad.” Reluctantly, I took a seat and pounded the end of the flatware packet against the table until my fork broke through the cellophane. I studied Bennett. “What did Cross assign you?”
Bennett took a big bite of pizza. “Nothing really, just acting as a go-between,” he said with his mouth full. “The boss wants to know what progress the
police are making on the CryptSpec case.”
I leaned forward eagerly. “Me too.” I glanced at Kellan. “I thought you told Cross we had to drop CryptSpec.”
“Yeah, well, we did.” Kellan found his tea and took a seat. “But if Barber isn’t the mole, we haven’t actually done our job. And now that the CryptSpec employees are under suspicion of installing ransomware on their customers’ devices, Mansfield wants to find out if his people are involved or if it’s just a weakness some unknown hackers have decided to exploit. Needless to say, Cross wants us to continue investigating the employees the cops have already cleared to see who’s dirty, which is why Bennett has to call in his chits with his precinct pals.”
Renner muttered something around another mouthful. “The techs are hoping once we get a look at the ransomware code, we’ll be able to trace it to a specific programmer.”
“Mansfield said the same thing,” Kellan chimed in.
“Except we don’t have access to the ransomware coding, and we have no way of knowing who the current victims are. It’s a mess. The police issued an alert saying if anyone is targeted by ransomware to bring the affected device to the precinct, but you know what the public’s like. Detective Heathcliff is not happy,” Bennett said. “We’re screwing around too close to his homicide case. And he’s still not convinced the ransomware isn’t connected to Gifford’s murder.”
“It sounds like a shitstorm,” I mused, surprised I hadn’t heard from Derek.
“It is. Suffice it to say, CryptSpec is doing some in-house cleaning. Anyone we even suspect is getting called in for questioning and forced to submit to a polygraph. Cross actually has our deception expert conducting the interviews. Mansfield was originally concerned with his code being sold to competitors, but now he’s more concerned about the lawsuits his company may be facing if it’s found that his product is enabling hackers to take control of their users’ devices or that his programmers are responsible for the malware,” Kellan said. “You should be relieved you found something else before Cross could put you back on this, Alex.”
Renner grinned. “That’s because she brought him a seven-figure payday.”
“How’d you hear about that?” I asked.
Bennett looked down at the two carat engagement ring and wedding band Cross had given me to wear as Alexandra Scott. “I hear things. And that is one shiny bauble. Lucien doesn’t pull out the expensive toys unless we’re looking at a big payday.”
“Who’s the client?” Kellan asked.
“Don Klassi,” Renner replied before I could say anything. I quirked an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. “I was speaking to Cross when you phoned earlier tonight. He clued me in on what you were doing. He figured since I was being so buddy-buddy with my old pals on the force, I might be able to find out if they had anything helpful to add on the scammer you’re pursuing.”
“Do they?” I asked.
“Nah.”
“So what good are you?”
Bennett shrugged. “Well, I did buy you dinner.”
“Now if only you could help me track down a shitty red car.” I stabbed angrily at a piece of lettuce, annoyed that no one had gotten a hit on what should have been an easy identification. “Actually,” I put down my fork, “the two of you can do something for me. See if the car connects to anyone at CryptSpec. Check the surveillance footage from the morning of the murder. Let me know what you find.”
I closed the lid on my salad and put it into the bag with my soup and took my dinner back to my office. I didn’t find a connection between the car and CryptSpec, but it wouldn’t hurt to have someone double or triple-check. In the meantime, there was one glaringly obvious clue that I ignored. Klassi recognized the car. He wasn’t sure where he’d seen it, but he’d seen it. That meant the bastard with the knife was linked to Klassi’s case. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
The assailant could have followed Klassi when he stopped by Monday afternoon to sign the official paperwork. Perhaps the asshole saw me talking to Don, or he picked up my trail when I went to check out Noah’s office. Either way, he would have known I was working for Klassi. Shit. Was my cover identity already blown?
I closed my eyes and tried to think. It was hard to recall much about a man with a mask covering his face, but he didn’t have the same build as Noah. Noah was rail thin. I’d be surprised if he weighed more than a buck fifty. Noah didn’t attack me. That much was as obvious as the unbroken nose on his face, but maybe Noah had an accomplice.
For the next twenty minutes, I debated why Noah would take a meeting with someone he knew was out to get him. That didn’t make any sense. Obviously, whoever jumped me knew I wasn’t a cop. Therefore, if he was working with Noah, they’d both know I wasn’t law enforcement, so Noah would have no reason to try to con me into tipping my hand. Private eyes didn’t build those kinds of cases, and for Noah, who’d been doing this for several years, it wouldn’t make sense to take an unnecessary risk, particularly when he just walked away with a ten million dollar payday.
The attacker and Noah weren’t linked, which meant I was attacked because of my connection to Don Klassi. Despite the fact Mark, Martin, and I checked into Klassi, the things that Don said about his wealth and his insistence to avoid the authorities had immediately left a bad taste in my mouth. The FBI didn’t find any criminal activity in his past, and neither did the resources at Cross Security. Still, Klassi was slimy. I was sure of it the first time we spoke. Even Martin picked up on that vibe. So what was Don involved in that had nearly gotten me killed half a block from the office?
I had to find out who introduced Don to Noah, and I needed to know more about the ten million dollars. The money might not have been Don’s. Perhaps he was cleaning it for some scumbag. All I knew was the assault linked to Don. What the hell did I get dragged into this time?
Getting up, I removed my nine millimeter from the drawer, chambered a round, and put it into my shoulder holster with the safety off. Then I took the elevator to the lobby and went out the front door. The first time Don visited the office, he left his friend behind. I wondered if the masked man was on the prowl again tonight. Truthfully, I hoped he’d find me because I had a score to settle and questions that needed answering.
Thirteen
“Who is he?” I spat.
Klassi wasn’t pleased that I found him at an upscale bar. He was even less pleased that I was questioning him in front of his business associate, Joshua Standish. “Joshua, this is Alexis. We met at a dinner party the other evening.” Klassi painted a phony smile on his face. “Excuse us for a moment.” Klassi slid off the chair and led me out of earshot. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”
“A few days ago, I was attacked outside my office.” I yanked on the collar of my shirt, exposing the stitches. “It turns out the bastard’s connected to you.”
“To me?” Klassi squeaked. “Are you sure?”
“You recognized the car. His car.” I waved off a waitress before she could get close to us. “I need to know everything. And I’m not prepared to leave until you answer my questions.” I shot a look in Standish’s direction. “You might want to make it quick before your business partner gets curious. I’d hate to have to break the news to him.”
“I’m sorry you were attacked, but I can assure you that has nothing to do with me.”
“Who recommended you use Noah Ryder to trade cash for coin?”
“Miss Parker, please.” Klassi turned. Smiling at Standish, he held up one finger, as if this would only take a moment longer. When he turned back to face me, the smile was gone. “No one important. It was a fellow businessman. Honestly, I can’t even be sure who it was at this point. I speak to so many people every day.”
“What’s his name?”
“No, you’ve already interrupted my life by barging in here. I won’t let you harass my friends. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Afraid I’ll do something to tarnish the halo above your head?�
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His eyes snapped to mine. “Tarnish my reputation, and I’ll take you down with me. Or rather, I guess I’ll take James down with me. It’s up to you.”
“Where’d the money come from?” I asked. “The ten million you gave to Noah, where did you get it?”
“I worked for it. I earned it.” He glanced back at Standish. “Before you interrupted, I was just discussing with my partner a lucrative property expansion that we’ve embarked upon. Despite what you may think, I do work for a living.”
“Is that what you call scamming people with your investment clubs?”
“It was no scam. I’m not the con man. Noah is. Property value is volatile. I can’t help it if prices drop unexpectedly, just like I can’t control when prices soar. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I grabbed Don’s arm. “Watch yourself, Mr. Klassi. Someone’s upset you hired me. It’s either the person who put you on to Noah, or it’s whoever you’re in bed with. Either way, they aren’t messing around. You better hope I figure out who it is before they decide to come after you with a knife. I don’t believe you’d fare well in a close quarters situation.”
Don swallowed. “Whatever happened to you had nothing to do with me. If it did, I’d tell you.” He gave a slight nod to the bouncer standing beside the hostess station. This was a private bar for members only, and I was about to be reminded of that fact.
I shook my head and went out the door. Getting Don to crack would take time and leverage, and even then, I wasn’t sure he’d cooperate. I’d have to figure this out another way. It was a good thing I worked at the best private investigation firm in the city. Phoning the office, I requested a complete work-up on Don Klassi’s financials. If he had any unscrupulous associates, we’d find the money trail.
Walking away from the bar, I felt him. He was here. Watching. Poised to strike. I stopped and pressed my back against the wall. My hand went inside my jacket, gripping my gun. Despite the warm, summer night, I shivered.
