Wearing the Spider (A Suspense Novel) (Legal Thriller) (Thriller)

by Schaab, Susan

  She looked at her watch again and sighed. Had she misunderstood the meeting place? No, she was certain the woman said Mangia on 57th Avenue. Well, 57th wasn’t an avenue, but that didn’t matter, unless … unless she’d been talking about someplace on 7th Avenue. Maybe Evie had misunderstood the name of the café … and what she thought was “fifty” was part of the name of the café. The accent did present a challenge. Well, too late now. Evie waited a few more minutes and wondered what to do. There was no way to contact the woman and no easy way to find out who she was. She had said she was with Romez Nuevo. Could she find out if any of its employees were known to be currently in New York? Maybe Joe’s PI could.

  She looked again at her watch. She had now waited twenty minutes for the woman in the red dress. She decided that this meeting was not going to happen, at least not today. A siren broke her concentration and roared past where she stood. It turned onto the Avenue of the Americas and the siren faded.

  Evie left her position by the door of Mangia, continuing to watch for any males of dubious appearance, and walked down 57th Street, still keeping an eye out for a dark-haired woman in a red dress. As she glanced down the Avenue of the Americas, she noticed the flashing lights of the ambulance that had passed her. It had stopped somewhere a few blocks away. She noticed a crowd gathering on the sidewalk near its parking place. Curiosity or fate caused her to walk toward the ambulance. When she got closer, she saw two police cars parked at the curb ahead of it.

  She followed the rhythm of the sidewalk traffic and found herself adjacent to the gathering crowd. As people shifted and parted, she could see that there was the body of a woman lying on the sidewalk. There was a pool of blood next to the motionless head and she looked away quickly, wondering if the woman was still alive. She said a silent prayer for her. The paramedics were engaged in life-saving choreography, but they did not have optimistic faces. Something caused Evie to take another look.

  She saw the paramedics place the woman on a gurney and noticed that she was dark-complected with black hair. Before a paramedic unfolded a sheet over the woman, Evie noticed she was wearing a red dress. Evie walked on with a queasy feeling in her stomach. No, it couldn’t be. Could it?

  No, this couldn’t be the woman. Manhattan is a city of eight million people, with many more numbers of tourists and visitors, any number of whom are females wearing red dresses on any given day. What are the odds of a particular woman wearing a red dress, with dark hair, a few blocks from where they were supposed to meet … or, prevented from meeting? No, it must be a coincidence.

  25

  Evie! I’ve been trying to reach you. I’ve got to see you.”

  “Joe? You’re in the city? I didn’t know you were flying in today.”

  “Plans accelerated. Listen Eves, I need to talk to you, but it has to be in person. Can you meet me … uhh … meet me at the park. You remember where we paused on our walk that Friday night?”

  “You mean when you talked to that hors—”

  “Yeah. There. Can you meet me there? Now?”

  “Uhh … sure … okay … yes, Joe, but why are you—”

  “I just have to see you. I just can’t wait to see you.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  The air was sweet and citrus-crisp courtesy of a rainstorm that had lingered over the city the night before. Central Park was bustling with people lunching, exercising and otherwise managing to absorb the beautiful sunshine on this September day. After casually sweeping the area around her with his eyes, Joe rushed up to her. He wanted to be absolutely certain that they could talk privately.

  “Hey Eves,” he said encircling her with his arm and finding her moist mouth with his. He didn’t let the kisses linger, but whispered into her ear, “I want to be sure you weren’t followed, so let’s walk a bit.”

  She looked at him wide-eyed but then took the cue and forced a casual carriage and expression, leaning into him as they walked arm in arm, in leisure harmony, albeit manufactured. He guided her to a vacant bench well within the park. There were joggers and bicyclists and the occasional pair of suited business people, and Joe was comfortable that they could freely talk, their voices masked by the surrounding park traffic noise and the currents of wind.

  Evie read his unease. “Joe—what’s going on? Why would you think I was followed? Did you find out something?”

  “I’m afraid that there’s a good possibility that some of our telephone conversations have been intercepted.”

  “A phone tap? You think my phone is bugged?”

  “No, Eves, it’s mine. My office phone. This has nothing to do with what you think. Parapier is involved in some classified government technology projects. It’s routine. They monitor the telephone calls of the top executives.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s part of a security clearance. I should’ve anticipated … and I should have recognized the dial-tone interference and the background noise, but I didn’t. The point is, I’m afraid they may have heard me tell you about the content of that email message I tracked … and, the rest of our conversation yesterday.”

  “The information about the Senator?” She thought for a moment. “Oh my God! And the possibility that he could be taking bribes?!”

  Joe didn’t answer immediately, watching a couple who seemed to be contemplating sharing their bench, but then moved on to a shadier spot.

  “I know they sample randomly,” he said, “but I don’t know which conversations and what portions were collected. I’m hoping any recording made yesterday will be filed away in some government archive. But, if our words were intercepted and fell into the hands of an investigator, then it’s possible that some of what we said could be misconstrued in any number of potentially incriminating ways.”

  “You mean, they might think one of our deals includes the bribing of a U.S. Senator?”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid so. It may not be picked up because the screeners might not be focusing on anything unrelated to my project. But, it’s possible it could land on the desk of someone who might want to do a little investigating.”

  “You mean the federal government may now want to investigate me?”

  “The FBI specifically. If they did focus on anything, they would likely inquire openly with the firm. They wouldn’t necessarily have enough information to target you directly. I can’t remember if I even said your name over the phone.”

  “Not exactly. You called me Eves! But, would they have the direct dial number you were connected to?”

  “I don’t think so. It probably registered your firm’s general number if caller identification was made. I doubt they track that for every call I make, though. And there’d be limits to the uses of any information they did manage to collect. You may know better than I do what the legal constraints are, but I don’t think they can use the information from a Parapier surveillance to open a covert investigation into the activities of your firm without more of a concrete foundation. Your firm has an expectation of privacy in that telephone call that would have to be respected.”

  “Yes, I think that’s correct, although they might consider it a sufficient basis to channel resources at us … to start looking into the firm’s activities. Especially if political operatives on the left got hold of it and wanted to leverage the info to bring down a Republican senator. I wouldn’t necessarily mind them investigating Alan, I have to say, but I certainly don’t want them breathing down my neck. I can’t even seem to get all the partners to believe me.”

  “What’s happened since we last spoke? Did you speak to your managing partner?”

  “Yes. It was a much more satisfying exchange of information. He believes me about Chicago, even though some number of the other partners are on the fence.”

  “I hope he’ll keep Levenger away from you.”

  “He said he would while the investigation was underway, but phase one may have buried me deeper beneath Alan’s mud.”

  Joe shifted over closer to
Evie as a small Korean woman with a paper bag sat on the end of their bench and extracted a carton of yogurt and a spoon. Evie glanced at the woman and smiled. She looked at Joe questioningly, but their bench-mate seemed innocuous and completely unaware of their conversation, so they continued, although each became slightly more cryptic.

  “I’m hoping the whole thing will ultimately be laid bare by the partnership. At least then we’ll know if there’s anything,” she lowered her voice, “… illegal in this transaction. If there’s not, all the better.”

  “You’ll have to calculate your next move very carefully. If you don’t get satisfaction from the partnership, you should think about contacting the feds. You’ll be in a much better position if you initiate contact. If they undertake any sort of investigation on their own and your name comes up, you will be viewed as a potentially antagonistic target.”

  “I don’t want that to happen before I build my file of evidence.”

  “I’m going to help you do that. My investigator is on the case and I emailed Levenger a little spyware.”

  “JOE!” The Korean woman looked at them, the spoon in her mouth. Evie sighed and darted her eyes, first at the woman and then at the random collection of people passing by. She turned her attention to Joe. She cocked an eyebrow at him and involuntarily clenched her jaw.

  “I know, Eves. You weren’t sure about that. Don’t worry. I would be very surprised if your technical staff could detect this one. And, it’s designed to gather information and then self destruct. It’s not the kind that does any discernable damage or even makes its presence known.”

  “I’m not used to this sort of thing.” She softened when he squeezed her against him. “I ran into Alan right after talking to Hanover. He mentioned that email message from your hotmail account. I’m afraid he might also mention it to Hanover. I was wondering if I should confess to Hanover that I’ve been sleuthing electronically.”

  “You haven’t. I have. And there’s no way those messages can be traced back to you.”

  “Okay. I’m going to wait and see what happens.”

  Joe shifted toward Evie blocking the view of the Korean woman who was now eating a banana.

  “You know, Joe, it was interesting,” she continued in a soft voice almost whispering into his ear. “Paul never asked me why … what motive Alan would have.”

  “Maybe he knows more than you think he does.”

  “Maybe. Yesterday, I got a second phone call from this woman who works for …” she glanced beyond Joe’s shoulder at the Korean woman, “… this woman who works for the company that’s the purchaser in this transaction. She repeated that she had information for me. Her English wasn’t great, and she had a heavy accent, but she was insistent that she thinks I have a problem. She was supposed to meet me earlier today. We made an appointment to talk, but she didn’t show.”

  “Eves, you have to be careful. This woman could be part of Levenger’s plot.”

  “I know. But she was so adamant. She said she would lose everything if this transaction closes.”

  “Did she give a name or any information that could be used to track her down?”

  “Only that she works for them, the purchaser, and that she was currently in New York.”

  “Not much. Maybe she’ll call again.”

  Evie sat silently. If she’s still alive.

  “In the meantime, I want you to give some serious thought to involving an outside resource.”

  Evie thought about telling Joe that she saw a woman being taken away in an ambulance who matched the description of the woman she was supposed to meet, but something kept her from continuing. It just couldn’t be the same woman.

  Joe sat in silence with her a few minutes holding her close. Finally, the Korean woman stood and walked away.

  “There’s something else,” he said in a serious tone. “Something important that I have to tell you.”

  “What?” asked Evie. She could sense that what Joe was about to say was not going to be pleasant. She took a breath and held it surreptitiously.

  “You remember when I told you about Sandra?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, there’s no easy way to say this. She’s pregnant.”

  “What?! She’s what? And she’s sure it’s yours?”

  “That’s what she’s saying. She’s having some tests—”

  “So she doesn’t know for sure yet if she actually is?”

  “No, she says the home test was positive. She’s at the doctor today. And she wants to find out if it’s a viable pregnancy. She’s had some health problems.”

  “Oh God.” Evie closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. She felt lightheaded and winded. She steadied herself and shook off the impact of the shock. After a moment and a deep breath she said, “So I assume she intends to have the baby. What does this mean for you?” She shifted her body so she could look him directly in the eye. She hadn’t really recovered from the new information, and she found herself asking for another blow.

  “It means I have to be there for her. Nothing more.”

  “Of course. I don’t mean to sound unfeeling. Of course you have to be there for her. She needs you now.”

  There was a new unexpected emotion, a new layer of complexity in their evolving friendship. Pain. Her eyes stared into his. He might not ever be hers. It was possible that he belonged to an unborn child and some part of him would forever be linked to Sandra. He pulled her close again and held her, but she wasn’t sure if she could allow herself to feel it. She fought back tears and gently pushed him away. This was it. This was what she dreaded. She thought back to their conversation at the California beach.

  “If it’s mine, well, I … Well, I guess I’ll have to deliver another baby.”

  “Joe, it’s no joking matter.”

  “I know. Sorry. Bad joke. I mean I’ll have to accept the responsibility.”

  “Joe, yes, of course you will. It’s an innocent child.”

  “I know. I know. There’s no lack of emotion about this, Eves. I’m—”

  “I’m sorry, Joe. I know this can’t be easy for you. What can I do?”

  He sat back and looked at her. He smiled that trademark dimple-laden smile. “You’re amazing. With everything you’re going through. Mmmmm. Can I kiss you?”

  “No.”

  “Just tell me you know how important you are to me.”

  “You have become somewhat important … to me.” She forced a weak smile.

  “I’m not in love with Sandra.”

  “Joe, do you remember what I was saying about men—”

  “Yes, I remember. And, God help me, I’ve done it to you again.”

  “No. No. What I was going to say was … that I’m impressed with you. You’re standing up to your obligations. And you were upfront with me. I’m not disappointed with you. I’m disappointed with the circumstances.”

  “I understand.” He leaned over to her and no one in the park even looked their direction as he kissed her.

  Evie thought these kisses were sweeter somehow and more sublime than those in the past, possibly because he had confided in her, but more probably because of the possibility that there might be no more to follow. He was something she might never have—a view to an oasis that had turned out to be a mirage. It was as if her ultimate openness to it, her submission, had been the invitation to take it all away.

  When their lips parted, her eyes were directed downward.

  “What’s the rest of your day like?” he asked.

  “I uhh … actually, I don’t remember.”

  “Is there a chance you could pick up your laptop and disappear for the rest of the afternoon?”

  “If I don’t have any appointments, I could probably get away with that. I can take a few files home and work on them at home tonight. What are you suggesting?”

  “I want to check on that spyware software back at my hotel room.” He grabbed her hand, “Let’s go do a little research.”

&nb
sp; “Wait,” she said, pulling her hand back in a less than decisive manner. “Joe, if someone is watching me, I’d rather not let them see us walking into your hotel together.”

  “Worried about your reputation?” he grinned.

  “No!” She gave him a stern look. “I just don’t want to hand them any information. Let them wonder who I’m meeting at the hotel. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Okay. Room 3901.”

  The crimson sun was starting toward the horizon. She watched him stand and walk away in the glow of the residual sunlight, the waves in his hair and the fabric of his dark suit catching swatches of light and casting a shadow in his wake. The voice in her head was saying that it would never be the same again. When he had walked some distance from her, he turned around and stopped and she watched him raise his hand in a departing wave. That vision of him would haunt her. She wondered if that gesture was foretelling a more permanent goodbye. Suddenly, she felt more sleepy than afraid, as if a sedative of sadness had permeated her bloodstream.

  She waited a full ten minutes before allowing herself to move. She dialed Helen on her BlackBerry and was told that the afternoon was free of meetings. A quick check of her BlackBerry calendar confirmed that she would not be missed. Her voice mail contained a number of messages on several client matters, none of which required any immediate action.

  When she finally walked through the lobby of the Four Seasons, she was feeling better, which she attributed to the brief sunbath she got while seated on the park bench. She was almost certain that she had not been followed, and, when Joe shut the hotel room door behind her, she felt confident that their privacy was absolute.