“Nothing.”
“Come on, Cory, you can tell me. Get it off your chest.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure, you can. You can trust me. It’s not only my job, but I want to help you.”
“Not with this you can’t.”
“Is it about Linda?”
“No.”
“Tell me.”
He took his AirPods out. “Leave me alone.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The downer Cory had taken before appearing on the Ellen DeGeneres Show began to really kick in as he walked off the set. Even though his face hurt from trying not to yawn, he wondered if it was the drugs or Ellen’s disarming personality that made the interview fun.
Cory needed to tell Lew to get the wire sent. He retreated to an empty set in the next studio.
“Hey, how did the appearance go?”
“Good, real good. She’s funny as hell.”
“Yeah, I like her. What’s going on?”
“I’m sending over another wire request.”
“Okay . . . how much we have to send?”
“A hundred.”
“Thousand?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t know.”
“You said I had six hundred-plus in the bank. What the problem?”
“Okay, it’s your money, but are you in trouble or something, kid?”
“No.”
“Oh, I get it. You’re splitting up with Linda and shifting some assets out of her reach.”
“Kind of.”
“Don’t worry about me, kid. I can keep a secret. I’ll get it going for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, I got a call from some woman who said she was going to audit your finances.”
“Yeah, it’s probably from my wife’s lawyer.”
“If you give them access, they’re going to see the wires.”
“At this point, I almost don’t care anymore.”
“But you’re not making sense, kid. You want me to send a wire out and then let them see the books?”
“Just do it. If they find it, they find it.”
“But—”
“Get it out. Now.”
Cory was nodding out in the SUV when Tracy said, “Look at this story. It’s like a spy movie or something.” She pointed to an article in the newspaper. The headline said, “Vigilante Killer Strikes Again.”
Cory couldn’t focus his vision on the text. “I’m too tired to read. Just tell me what it’s about.”
“There’s this man out there, the police think it’s the same guy. He’s killed three people who were acquitted of murder even though everybody thinks they did it. Remember the man in Brooklyn, who was accused of killing his fiancée? He was all over TV saying he was out fishing when she was killed.”
“Yeah, the guy with the granny glasses.”
“Yep, that’s him. Remember he changed his story when the video came out that showed his boat never left the dock?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, he got off, but this vigilante killer, he took him out yesterday and got away without a trace.”
“They’ll catch him. Nobody gets away with it.”
“Are you kidding me? The article just said forty percent of murders are never solved.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I know, that’s what I thought when I read it. Even if it’s off by half, that’s still one out of every five killers that gets away.”
“How many in the city?”
Tracy typed the question into Google. “Since 1985, almost ten thousand unsolved murders in New York City.”
“Geez. How many is that a year?”
She put the numbers into the calculator app. “Two hundred and sixty.”
“That’s super dangerous. Maybe I should move the family out to Connecticut.”
“You still going up there next week?”
* * *
Back in his apartment, Cory lit a joint and poured himself a bourbon. He finished the joint and flopped onto the couch. Cory grabbed his drink, took a sip, and closed his eyes. The skin on his face felt dry. He had to wash off the makeup they’d put on. His mind drifted.
Heart racing, Cory bolted upright. He looked around. He’d been dreaming. In the dream, Cory had hired Ellen’s cameraman to kill Damien, an up-and-coming singer whom he was battling for supremacy on the Billboard charts.
Cory reached for his drink, wondering how the mind combined bits of information into something believable. His phone chimed a text. Cory hesitated before looking. He exhaled. It was from Linda. But it wasn’t all good.
She wanted to know why he wasn’t at Ava’s dance rehearsal. Cory gulped the rest of the drink down and opened the Uber app.
As a line of girls in red and white costumes took the stage, Cory slid into a seat next to Linda. He whispered, “Sorry, I—”
“Save it, I don’t want to hear it.”
“When is Ava coming on?”
“She just got off the stage.”
“Oh, come on, really?”
“Yeah, really Cory. You missed it.”
“Don’t tell her I didn’t see it. What color outfit did they have on?”
“Look, you want to lie to your daughter, I don’t like it, but it’s your call. Just don’t ask me to cover for you.”
A parent behind them said, “Shush.”
Cory leaned in, “It’s not a lie, I just got stuck on the TV show.”
Linda’s eyes bored into him. “You’ve been drinking. What did I tell you about being around the children when you’re drunk?”
“I’m not drunk, I had one drink.”
“I want you to leave.”
“Aw, come on.”
“Goodbye, Cory.”
“We’re supposed to have dinner together.”
“Not in your condition. You better leave, or you’ll make things worse than they already are.”
As soon as Cory got in an Uber, he called Tracy. “How come you didn’t remind me about Ava’s recital?”
“What are you talking about? I told you on the way back from the Ellen show.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I certainly did. Don’t tell me you missed it.”
“Yeah, I blew it. I forgot about it.”
“How did you do that? Were you writing?”
“Uh, yeah. I lost track of time. Do me a favor and send roses to Ava and Linda.”
“Will do. Listen, you better start taking care of yourself. Did you call Dylan, the trainer I told you about?”
“Yeah, he’s coming Thursday.”
“That’s tomorrow.”
“Oh, right.”
“I know you said no, but I’m going to get Barbara to send you prepared meals when you’re in town.”
“I don’t need that. I have a million places around me, and they all deliver.”
“You have to start eating healthier. Pizza doesn’t cut it.”
A text chimed in. “I got to go. I think Linda is texting me.”
Cory went to his messages. It was the blackmailer, and he was pissed.
Chapter Thirty-Three
What do you think, we got a damn layaway plan? Send me the rest of the fucking money or you’ll regret it.
Cory recounted his conversation with Lew. He’d been buzzed. Had he made a mistake with the amount when he sent the wiring instructions? He scrolled through his texts. The amount was correct. He punched in his manager’s number. It went straight to voice mail.
Was he avoiding him? He waited five minutes and redialed. No luck. He called the office but was told Lew was out and not expected back. Pouring himself a drink, he heard a text arrive. He figured it was Lew. It wasn’t:
Where’s the rest of the money?
I’m checking on it.
Don’t fuck with me.
I’m not. I told my manager to send it. I’m trying to get a hold of him.
Cory called Tracy and asked her to track down Lew. He made anot
her drink, but before he could take a sip his cell rang. He didn’t recognize the number and hesitated. Figuring it was Lew calling from another location, he answered.
“Mr. Lupinski?”
“Yes? Who is this?”
“Wendy Wilcox, the accountant.”
“Oh. Hi. What’s going on?”
“Well, I started to audit the books, and found something concerning.”
“Wires to my friends?”
“No. This concerns a series of transfers. You see, in an audit, we verify what appears on the books. We go a level deeper to make sure what shows on the surface is actually where the money goes and—”
“Tell me what you found.”
“Well, there are a dozen transfers, in varying amounts, that went into Mr. Stein’s account.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I always start with transfers and wires, focusing on big round numbers. I like to vet those first. Right away, I noticed a transfer for fifty thousand dollars in the check register. According to the paperwork, it went to a company called the Promotion Pros. But, following where the money actually went, it didn’t go there, it went to Lewis Stein.”
“I can’t believe this. Are you sure it isn’t some kind of paperwork mistake?”
“Unfortunately, it appears orchestrated. After uncovering the first inconsistency, I searched the books for others and found eleven other transfers, each of them to Lewis Stein.”
“The bastard is stealing from me?”
“It’s preliminary, but that’s how it appears.”
“How much money in total?”
“Five hundred and sixty thousand dollars.”
“I swear, I’ll kill the bastard.”
“Please calm down, Mr. Lupinski. It’s possible Mr. Stein has an explanation.”
“What can you send me as proof about what you uncovered?”
“I can send you copies of the transfers detailing where the money went.”
“Text them to me. Now.”
Realizing the reason the blackmailer only got half the money, Cory gulped his drink. He was broke, he thought, as the documentation hit his phone. He opened three. There didn’t seem to be any doubt that his manager got the money. Why? Was Lew involved in the blackmailing scheme as well?
It couldn’t be, otherwise he’d know the money wasn’t there. But was that just a cover to make him think he wasn’t involved? He bounced between believing it was a ruse, to thinking it was impossible. He couldn’t think straight.
Cory downed his drink and ordered an Uber car. He put a jacket on, hammering the elevator button like a morphine pump. When the elevator sounded, he ran into the kitchen. Grabbing a steak knife, he shoved it in a pocket and hopped into the elevator.
Chapter Thirty-Four
As Cory collapsed onto the couch, Dr. Bruno said, “I’m pleased you reached out.”
“I lost it and guess I got scared.”
“It would be helpful to talk about it, if you’re comfortable sharing it.”
“Well, I found out that Lew had been stealing my money. I mean, he had this whole scheme to cover his tracks, but a friend uncovered it.” Cory exhaled. “And I went a little crazy and wanted to confront him. So, I went to his house. I didn’t really want to hurt him, but I took a knife from the kitchen in case, you know, he had a weapon.”
“Did he?”
Cory shook his head. “No, but I was just trying to scare him, to get my money back. Then his wife came home and freaked out. She called the cops, and they came, and it was a frigging mess.”
“Fortunately, it didn’t escalate further.”
“I can’t believe the whole thing even happened.”
“I understand how upsetting the revelation must have been.”
“You got no idea.”
“Do you believe you overreacted?”
“He stole more than half a million. I got nothing left. I had to do something.”
“There are ways other than going after him with a knife to obtain justice.”
“I know, I know. It was a mistake going after him.”
“You trusted your manager?”
“Yeah, or else I wouldn’t have given him control of my money.”
“How was that trust built?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Did you know him before you became successful?”
“No. He was recommended by my agent.”
“Are you angry with your agent?”
“Hey, this isn’t about me, the bastard stole from me, from my family. Now I’m in deep shit.”
“I understand, but I’m trying to understand if some of your anger is rooted in the recognition you may be responsible for what happened and—”
“Me? You’re not making any sense.”
“Allow me to clarify. Based upon a recommendation, you hired a manager to handle your finances. Would you agree that is a large responsibility?”
“Of course.”
“But other than taking someone’s advice, you did nothing to vet the manager?”
“So, it’s my fault he’s a degenerate gambler?”
“No, but perhaps you lost control because you’re disappointed in your failure to ensure he was trustworthy.”
“That’s totally wrong. I’m not good with numbers, and Lew’s been around for ages. How the hell was I supposed to know he has a gambling addiction?”
“Do you believe it was the loss of money that triggered your outburst?”
“Of course it was.”
“I’m not making light of the sum. It’s more money than I’ve ever had. But speaking frankly, I’m sure you’ve made several multiples of the loss, and even if you never recover the money from him, you’ll earn more than enough to offset it.”
“Maybe.”
“Are you worried about the durability of your career?”
“A little. But I’m broke now. That’s what worries me.”
“Okay. Let’s talk about that. Can you see that it is likely a short-term situation?”
Cory shrugged. “I need money. Now.”
“I’m sure you can arrange a loan against your future earnings. It couldn’t take more than a week or two.”
“That’s too long.”
“Tell me what makes this so pressing?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
Cory remained silent, and Bruno said, “Let me use an analogy. Say you’re trying to sleep, and someone is playing music so loud it keeps you awake. In order to ask that person to tone it down, you first have to identify them. Does that make sense?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Whenever you’re ready, I’m here for you. Keep in mind, our conversations are strictly confidential.”
On the ride back to his apartment, Cory went over the session. He wanted to confide in someone and get help, but it was too shaming. He thought about what she said. Recalling what Bruno said about identifying the person keeping him up with their loud music struck a chord.
If he could find out who was behind the blackmailing, maybe he could so something. Negotiate an end to it somehow. They were pressuring him for the balance. The story that came out in the press mentioned the theft but not that he was broke.
The publicist didn’t want to release that information, and Cory was afraid to put it in a text. If he could explain what happened with his manager to him, he’d have to understand. He had no other choice.
Cory called Tracy. “Hey, I have someone, an old friend of mine, I want to track down, but it’s got to be done super discreetly.”
“You want a private investigator?”
“Yes. Who do you know?”
“Tell me what it’s about.”
“I can’t. Just give me a couple of names that can be trusted.”
“Does this concern Linda?”
“No.”
“I’ll get right back to you, but please be careful.”
; * * *
The man who stepped off the elevator didn’t look anything like an investigator. His hair was on the long side, and he wore jeans and a leather jacket.
He offered his hand. “Good to meet you, sir.”
Cory said, “I’m hoping you can help me. And your name is?”
“Refer to me as Mr. Black.”
“That’s not your real name?”
“No. What can I do for you?”
“If you recall, someone was spreading a rumor that I hadn’t composed certain songs on my album.”
Mr. Black’s expression didn’t change. “And you want to know who it was.”
“Exactly. That’s what I want to find out.”
“You think it might be someone close to you?”
“Possibly. Whoever it is can’t be trusted, and I need to know who it is.”
“I understand.”
“Can you do something like that?”
Black smiled. “No problem.”
“How quickly?”
“It depends. If you have anything to work with, it’ll speed things up.”
“I have cell numbers that I believe might be mirror numbers.”
“I’ll check them out. Anything else?”
“Yes. I think whoever took these pictures is the person.” Cory showed him the pictures of Jay Bird and the sheet music.
“When and where was this?”
“Mirrortone Studios. I think it was taken around a week or two before Jay Bird died.”
“Excellent. I’m sure they have video.”
“Not in the studios themselves.”
“That’s okay. I’ll narrow it down.”
“Good.”
“After we determine who it is, do you want me to make contact? Put a scare in them?”
“How would you do that?”
Black smiled. “We have our methods, and they’re very effective.”
“Not now. I’d like to know who it is first before doing anything about it.”
“Fair enough. Anything else?”
“This has to be kept between the two of us. Is that clear?”
“I didn’t build my business helping public figures by being undisciplined.”
“I didn’t mean you, but anyone you work with.”
“The only person who will know you’re the client is me. If anyone needs to be brought in, you’ll be an unknown, female client in her sixties.”
“I understand, but the less people the better. How long will this take?”
Cory's Dilemma Page 12
