by Stephen Frey
So Jesse assumed he had led a privileged life. Well, he wasn’t going to volunteer the truth. Not yet, anyway. “You don’t have to be able to choose wines, just stocks. And Elizabeth thinks you can. As long as Elizabeth likes you, you’re in.”
“She’s an incredible success story.”
“That she is.”
Jesse bent down to check the compass heading. “Tell me about yourself, David.”
His pulse quickened. He didn’t want to tell her about the Glen Owens row house, stickball in the street with a taped ball, shoplifting his lunches, and his mother’s polyester pantsuit collection. He might become much less interesting to her if she knew. “What do you want to know?”
“Where you’re from, where you went to school. All the normal stuff.”
“Why? Is this a beauty contest?”
“No,” she laughed, “it’s the third degree.” She straightened up from looking at the compass. “If I didn’t trust you, I’d think you were hiding something.”
“You’ve figured me out. I’m really a double agent from Berlin,” he said in a bad German accent. “And being a portfolio manager is my cover. What’s your deep dark secret?”
But she was unable to smile at the accent because of the question. “I told you everything this afternoon. I’m the youngest of nine children. We didn’t have much when I was growing up. We weren’t poor, but we always wore our clothes until there wasn’t much left of them. My dad worked almost every day of his life to keep food on the table. Until he died when I was sixteen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. He was a wonderful man, David. I still miss him.”
“I’m sure.” David thought of his own father for a second, buried in the trash-strewn Glen Owens graveyard.
“My mother’s life was and still is the neighborhood Catholic church,” Jesse continued. “She’s always putting together a benefit, organizing a trip, or just cleaning up the place.”
“That’s nice.”
“It’s a large congregation. Father McCord can use all the help he can get, and she loves doing it. I don’t know what she’d do without it.” Jesse paused. “Sometimes it’s hard for her to make ends meet, though. That’s another reason I’d like to start making a good bit of money as soon as I graduate from business school. I want to use some of it to help her out.”
“You and your mother must be very close.”
Jesse nodded. “We are.”
“Did your mother remarry after your father died?”
“No.” She felt strange not telling David the truth, but she didn’t want to think about Joe Schuman right now. Didn’t want to have to go through it. She was enjoying herself too much to ruin the mood. “Hey, once again I’m the one doing all the talking.”
“Mmm.”
They fell silent in the serenity of the tranquil river. There were no other boats on the water at this hour and only a few lights glimmering from shore through the dense forest covering both banks. The only sounds were the lapping of water against the Dickerson’s hull and the faint hum of the small motor—they had furled the sails at the mouth of the Corsica to avoid having to tack all the way up the narrow channel. Directly above them hung a full moon, ringed by a hazy halo.
“Beautiful out here, isn’t it?” David observed. The moon was vivid in the black sky.
“I’ll say.”
To port, an osprey plunged into the water after a fish. Jesse cringed. Instantly she was back at Neil Robinson’s river house, crashing through the woods with the predator in pursuit.
“Hey, are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She brought her hands to her chest. Her heart was racing.
“You sure?”
“I’m fine,” she said again, this time more firmly.
“Okay. Look, will you take the wheel, Jesse? I appreciate your giving me the chance to play captain, but you’re the one who really knows how to sail, and I’m having kind of a difficult time seeing the markers. I wouldn’t want to run us aground. I doubt the marina would appreciate that.”
“All right.” She was still breathing hard.
David moved aside to let her steer. “When did you learn to manage a sailboat so well, anyway? Christ, at one point this afternoon you had us heeled over so far I was sure we were going to tip. But I have to admit, it was fun going that fast.”
“A friend taught me,” she said as she wrapped her fingers around the chrome wheel. Todd had taught her in the fall of their senior year in high school. They had explored the bay every weekend in a small sailboat he and a few friends had purchased, and she had become an expert. It was on one of those weekends that she had fallen in love for the first time.
“Would this friend happen to have been the guy you were with at the branch the other day when I picked you up to come to Sagamore?”
“You mean Todd?”
“If that’s his name.”
“Todd’s a good person. You’d like him.”
“I’m sure,” David said dryly.
The river chart hung next to the wheel. “Hey, we’re running out of water here,” she said, pointing at it. “Pretty soon the Corsica is going to be ten feet wide and three feet deep and we’re going to be stuck in the mud. Where is this place, anyway?”
“I’ve only been to it once before, and that was by car.”
“Oh, great. We’re going to be sailing up and down the Corsica all night.”
“Don’t worry. The house shouldn’t be hard to find.”
“Why not?”
“There aren’t many homes on this river, and . . .” David paused as they glided around a bend, then pointed across the water. “And my friend said he’d make certain to leave the lights on for us.”
Her eyes opened wide. “There?”
“Uh huh.”
A hundred yards away was a long pier, brilliantly outlined by lights, jutting out into the river. Moored to it were several powerboats and a seventy-five-foot Alden sailboat.
As Jesse steered the Dickerson toward the pier, the house lights came into view far up the hill. “My God, how big is that place?” she asked.
“Seven bedrooms, six baths,” David answered. “You could play a football game in the basement.”
“Whose house is it?”
“Martin Broadbent’s. He’s a member of Sagamore’s executive committee. It’s his summer home,” David said, winking at Jesse. “As they say, it’s good to be king.”
As the Dickerson pulled alongside, David took the stern line in hand and jumped up onto the pier. He quickly pulled the sailboat to a stop, lashed the rope to a pylon cleat, then did the same with the bow line, making certain there was enough play in the ropes to allow the boat to rise and fall with tidal changes. Then he knelt down and lifted Jesse up onto the dock. For a moment they stood on the pier facing each other.
Finally, David lifted his hand and gently touched Jesse’s cheek. “Thank you for a great day.”
“Thank you.”
Slowly, David leaned forward to kiss her.
She had enjoyed the day very much and knew for certain now that he was someone she could be quite interested in. But just as the kiss was becoming passionate, she broke away. She couldn’t risk the opportunity at Sagamore. “We’d better get up to the house. It’s late, and we shouldn’t keep anyone awake just in case they’re waiting up for us.”
“Uh huh.” David smiled to himself as she took his hand and began pulling him up the pier toward the house. He had seen that spark of interest in her eye. Just as he had seen it that night when they first met at the cocktail party.
“Good evening, Elijah.”
Pitts hated these meetings. “Good evening.” He was not a man who was comfortable exhibiting deference, but it was necessary in this case.
“I don’t have much time, so I’ll be brief.”
“All right.”
“I need a favor, Elijah.”
Pitts cringed. The man always insisted on calling him by his first nam
e, a subtle reminder of who wielded the power in this relationship. Everyone else addressed him as Reverend. “What is that?” he asked quietly.
“We’ve discussed this situation before.”
“Malcolm Walker.”
“That’s right. Do I sense irritation, Elijah?”
“No.” But his tone was unconvincing.
“You knew I would call in this favor sooner or later.”
“Mmm.”
“LFA is in desperate need of cash,” the man pointed out. “I will inject more once you have completed this task.”
The checking account was already overdrawn, and the next payroll checks had to be cut in a few days. Pitts needed money immediately or everything would be lost. The organization would die just as it was becoming real. Someday they wouldn’t need this despicable patron, but for now he was their lifeline. “What do you want me to do?”
The store smelled richly of fine leather, but Roth took little notice as he approached the sales clerk standing behind the glass counter.
“Good evening, sir. May I help you?” The clerk’s smile was sincere despite the late hour and a hectic day.
“I certainly hope you can,” Roth said politely. He had waited until just before closing time to enter the store, and as he had hoped, it was deserted. “I need some information.”
“What kind of information?” the clerk asked hesitantly.
Roth reached into his pocket and brought out the heavy badge. “I’m special detail to the Assistant Attorney General.” His voice became serious as he quickly snapped the wallet shut. “I’m running an important investigation, and I need information on a glove I believe was purchased here. I need this information immediately.”
“I’d better get the manager.” The sales clerk had no interest in taking responsibility for this.
Fifteen minutes later, Roth exited the store with exactly what he had come for. Next stop would be the lab where the hair samples were being analyzed, although it didn’t look like they’d even need that information now.
Chapter 18
“Ms. Hayes?”
Looking at her tentatively from the office doorway was Rob Forester, a systems analyst who also ran investigative reports for the revenue agents. “Hi, Rob.”
“I have that report you asked for.”
“Well, come in here, silly.” She motioned for him to enter as she rose from her seat. “Don’t stand out there like a lost child.”
The young man moved into her office. “It just looked as if you were thinking about something pretty hard. I didn’t want to interrupt your work.” He enjoyed any chance he had to run reports for Jesse. She treated him with respect, unlike most of the revenue agents, who thought their data requests were more important than edicts from God. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
She had been lost in thought, but it had nothing to do with work. Saturday night she and David had stayed up until three o’clock, just talking as they sat together by themselves on the huge screened-in porch of the Broadbents’ mammoth Corsica River home. They had discussed everything from wines and sailing to Sagamore, Elizabeth Gilman, and Art Mohler. They had been together all day, but the conversation just seemed to keep going.
When the talk finally faded because they were both exhausted, David politely showed her to her room and shook her hand good night. He had been quite the gentleman, and somehow she had been disappointed he hadn’t attempted another kiss. But that wasn’t fair. She would have refused him again anyway.
“Ms. Hayes?”
Jesse snapped back from the daydream for the second time and stepped toward the young man to take the report. “I appreciate your help, Rob.”
“If there’s anything else I can do, just call me.”
“I will.”
“Okay.” Rob hesitated at the door for a moment, hands jammed into his pockets, hoping she would make an immediate request. Finally he waved nervously and was gone.
Jesse smiled as she closed the office door and returned to her desk. Rob was nice, and it was flattering to have someone so smitten.
Last Friday she had obtained a list from the Federal Election Commission of everyone officially registered as employed by the Elbridge Coleman Senate campaign, along with their Social Security numbers. The report Rob had just completed took the Social Security number of each individual working for the Coleman campaign and generated a record of any other entities by which those people had been paid in the last two years. Employers were always required to withhold taxes on earnings and deposit those funds with the IRS, using Social Security numbers as identification, so generating the report had been simple once she had the numbers.
The objective of generating the report was to develop a profile of the Coleman campaign. Perhaps there would be something there that could lead her in the right direction. It was a long shot, but she had to start somewhere. She pulled the list of Coleman employees from a desk drawer, put it down next to Rob’s report on the desk, and began to compare them.
Almost instantly the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Jess.”
“Todd. How are you?”
“Fine, and you?”
“Fine.” She sipped her coffee and continued matching the list of Coleman employees against Rob’s report of wage withholdings.
“Tired?” Todd asked.
“No, why?” What was that about?
“No reason. Look, we need to talk about a couple of ideas I had regarding what we discussed the other day.”
“But we haven’t settled on your huge fee yet,” she teased. “And you’ll probably require a deposit, won’t you?” Suddenly one of the employers on Rob’s report caught her attention.
“Oh, come on, Jess. I was just kidding about that.”
She focused on the name. That made no sense. Why would Coleman hire someone who had worked there?
“Jess, are you still on the line?”
It made no sense at all.
“Jess!”
“I’m here,” she said, trying to figure it out.
“Let me tell you what I’m planning to do.”
“No.” Jesse’s voice was suddenly ice-cold. “Not on the phone.” The office could easily be bugged, she realized. “Tonight I want you to meet me at the place we used to go after the movies.”
“You mean when we were in high school?” Todd laughed.
“Yes. Meet me there at seven o’clock.”
“What’s wrong?” He sensed strain in her voice.
“Nothing. Just be there.” She hung up quickly, not giving him another chance to speak, then rose from her seat. There was one more thing she needed Rob to do.
As she opened her office door, she almost ran into Sara.
“Hi, Jesse.”
“Hi.” Instinctively Jesse slipped Rob’s report behind her back.
“What are you working on?” Sara had noticed Jesse’s maneuver. “Must be top secret.” She leaned to the side and nodded down at the report.
“What, this?” Jesse brought the report back out from behind her back. “This is just an audit on some poor farmer out in Carroll County. I’m trying to find a way not to levy penalties or sic an investigative agent on him even though he hasn’t paid income taxes in two years, but I do need one more thing before I can help him. So I’m off to records. Do you need anything?”
Sara shook her head.
“All right, see you in a little while.” Jesse stepped past Sara. “Maybe we can have lunch together,” she called back over her shoulder.
Sara watched carefully as Jesse moved down the hall. The records room was in the other direction.
Todd guided the white Corvette down the long gravel driveway toward his small farmhouse, proceeding cautiously to protect the car’s underside against rocks kicked up by the tires. Finally he pulled the Corvette to a stop in front of the clapboard home.
It was a perfect bachelor place—rustic, quiet and remote. At one time the house had served as home to a tenant farmer man
aging the large estate for the owners who resided in the white-pillared manor house up on the hill. However, the tenant manager had died a year ago, and now the owners contracted their huge fields out to corporate farmers. But they had maintained the house and rented it to Todd.
The sound of another car moving over the driveway’s crushed stones caught Todd’s attention as he stepped out of the Corvette. The oncoming car was a sleek black Cadillac, large and expensive. However, the driver didn’t show the same concern for his vehicle as Todd had. Instead he raced quickly down the tree-lined lane.
It was Harry the Horse, paying his weekly visit. Todd slammed the Corvette’s door shut as the black car neared. In a strange way he enjoyed this game of chicken. Harry talked a good game but never followed through on his threats. He just loaned more money whenever Todd needed it.
Harry pulled his Cadillac behind the Corvette, blocking it in, then hopped from the car along with two other stocky men. He approached slowly while the other two leaned against the car’s grille. “Hello, Todd.” Harry’s voice was gruff.
“Hi, Harry.” Todd was nonchalant.
Harry moved directly to Todd until their faces were just inches apart. “We need a payment.”
Todd grinned. “Sure, Harry.”
Suddenly Harry launched a huge fist into Todd’s stomach, instantly knocking the wind from his lungs. Todd slumped to his knees, clutching his belt.
“My boss is coming down on me about your loan. You owe us thirty thousand bucks. Fifteen on the car and fifteen from your unlucky weekends at the Atlantic City blackjack tables. We want at least five thousand of that before Monday and the balance by the end of the month. You got it?”
“Yeah.” Todd gasped.
Harry nodded over his shoulder at his partners. They removed tire irons from beneath their long leather jackets and quickly smashed the Corvette’s taillights and headlights. When they were finished, Harry grabbed Todd by his hair and pulled his head back. “I wanted you to have a little memento of our visit here today.”
