“Just one of those countless routine fires I mentioned,” Lewis said, her voice calm, her eyes anything but. “Genevieve, Jim, and Adriana share a number of clients. Some kind of problem arose with one of those common clients. Unfortunately, they had to return home to New York to handle it.”
“What a shame. Who was the client?”
“Nice try, Ash. I don’t know, but I couldn’t tell you even if I did.”
“Wasn’t Connor, was it?” Ashley asked.
“Not that I know of, but—”
“I know, I know, you couldn’t tell me even if you did,” Ashley interrupted, not at all buying the excuses. “Not to worry, that’s why they pay me the big bucks, as the saying goes. If you won’t tell me, I’ll just have to find another way to figure out what’s going on. Good luck with the rest of your week from hell.”
LOTELLO STARED SILENTLY AT Connor.
Connor lost his patience. “You mentioned Grey,” he finally said. “Do you have something on your mind, or don’t you? If not, I’ve got other things to do. Even if apparently you don’t.”
“What’s your shtick with Grey?” Lotello asked. “And, for that matter, with Eileen Lonergan?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. But—once again—you seem to be butting in where you have absolutely no business.”
“At the risk of repeating myself, when at least three people with whom you have—or have had—intimate relationships have all gone missing, you no longer have the luxury of telling people to stay out of your business. If we were back in the states, and you behaved with the authorities there the way you are behaving here, you’d immediately be taken into custody until you changed your tune, with or without some advice from all those lawyers of yours.”
“And at the risk of repeating myself, Lotello, you aren’t shit here on Punta Maya.”
“It may be a tad more cumbersome here on Punta Maya, but my concern remains the welfare of TITO, and other individuals, those already missing and those not missing yet but possibly in jeopardy,” Lotello said. “I really don’t give a damn about you, Connor. If you force my hand, I will make a citizen’s arrest and shut you down on my own, with the assistance of hotel security if need be, including whatever force is reasonably necessary under the circumstances. I don’t know about you, and even if you are some big deal writer, I’m fully prepared to stack up my overall credibility against yours. So you get one last chance, Conner, to tell me about your dealings with Grey and Lonergan.”
LEWIS COULDN’T FIND HART. He wasn’t answering his cell phone or responding to the text she sent him. She didn’t think this could keep. It’s my ass that’s on the line. Brooks wasn’t picking up either. Where the hell is everybody! She called the head of hotel security. “Diego, it’s Lisa Lewis. Do you have any idea where Judge Brooks might be?”
“Where are you, Ms. Lewis?” Diego asked.
“I’m in the TJ admin offices.”
“Okay, stay put, please. Let me see what I can do. I’ll call you back.”
BROOKS ANSWERED HIS ALIAS cell phone. “He saw Ramirez’s name in the caller ID screen. “Hello? Brooks, here.”
“Hola, Judge Brooks. This is Diego Ramirez. I wanted to let you know I just received a call from Lisa Lewis. She asked me if I knew where you were. Given the prior apparent attempt on you and your wife, I didn’t think I should compromise your security and tell her where you were or how she could reach you on this phone. I told her I would try to find you and call her back. Did I handle that correctly?”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Ramirez. Thank you,” Brooks said. After dealing with Lewis all these years, it wouldn’t have occurred to me that he would have kept her in the dark. Can’t be too careful, I guess. Just doing his job. “Please let Ms. Lewis know that I’ll call on her shortly.”
BROOKS ENTERED THE TJ offices ten minutes later. He saw Lewis sitting at one of the desks in the room, her head in her hands. “Ms. Lewis. I understand you’ve been trying to reach me. Has anything new gone amiss?”
“Judge Brooks. Thank goodness.” She quickly recapped for Brooks her recent conversation with Ashley Keller. “What do we do?”
MAYBE I SHOULD TELL you what to do. I could do that. Would you like me to do that?
SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, CONNOR exclaimed to himself. What do I do now for fuck’s sake?! Everything is riding on this. I can’t let Lotello figure out what I’m doing. “What dealings are you talking about? Wynonna Grey is just a writer wannabe who latched onto me. Out of the goodness of my heart, I’ve been giving her some free advice. Editing one of her manuscripts for her, making it top notch. That’s it.” That’s it, okay? Nothing more I can say.
“And Lonergan, what about her?” Lotello asked.
“What about her? Nothing,” Connor insisted. “She’s just a website designer I met here. I introduced her to Grey. Just trying to be a nice guy. Grey needs a website, and Lonergan is looking for business. I thought I could help by putting the two of them together. My God. I go out of my way to help people and look what it gets me. Why do I bother?”
“Are you done patting yourself on the back? How come when Lonergan built a website for Grey and Grey asked Lonergan to launch the website, you stuck your nose in the middle of things and overrode the two of them and said no? What’s that to you? Sounds like a lot more than someone just lending a helping hand, making a simple introduction, and then stepping to the sidelines.”
“Ridiculous. I thought launching Grey’s website before her manuscript is finished was premature. That’s my opinion and I expressed it. But that’s Grey’s call, not mine. Anyone who suggested I was doing anything more than offering my view is overreacting. Period.” What else can I say? “I’ve got nothing more to say, Lotello. I’ve wasted all the time on you I’m going to. Take your best shot. Do whatever you think you have to do.”
Connor turned and walked away.
Lotello didn’t stop him.
ASHLEY FILLED HER FATHER in on what she had learned, and what she had done.
“Good work, Ash,” her father said. “Great investigative journalism. That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Yeah, but what now, Dad?” she said. “Do you plan to blow the whistle on TITO? We’ve had a close relationship with them for years. Are you really prepared to jeopardize that?”
“The story here isn’t so much that something may have happened to Connor’s three representatives. More important is the fact that TITO knew about this and sat on it. That’s the story we can break. Sure, it’s a little dicey and uncomfortable for us personally, but we have a duty to break the story. Not to mention that you may end up with a Pulitzer for pulling this all together. Stories like this just don’t come along every day.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Yeah but nothing. What are they teaching you in that expensive college I’ve been paying for? Don’t you know that transparency and related moral erosion are the issues of the day? Well, at least one of the issues of the day.”
“Well, sure, but—”
“Again, sweetheart, there are no ‘sure buts’ here. TITO had a duty to be forthcoming and transparent with whatever they learned—whenever they learned it. Who knows how many additional people may have been harmed when TITO didn’t do so? Worse still—”
“I know, but—”
“—if we sit on this, we may be accused of conspiring with TITO out of our own self-interest. The very same interests you just reminded me of. We don’t have enough insurance to cover the legal fees we might incur if we get sucked into this, let alone any damage awards. If TITO doesn’t have enough insurance, lawyers all over will be looking for deep pockets. We can’t let that include us. I do like TITO, but, as the saying goes, blood is thicker than water.”
“Hmm, I guess when you put it that way …” Ashley wasn’t the type to just let things go, especially not something like this, but she would have to be careful, and that was worth some thought.
BROOKS LOOKED AT LEWIS. “Ms. Lewis, I’ve sa
id it before, I’ll say it again: I’m afraid the die is cast. The TITO board made the decision—and an informed one at that—not to come forward and share with all of the Thriller Jubilee registrants all the information it had. TITO can’t turn back the clock. All TITO can do at this point is be prepared to explain why it made the decision it did when all the second guessing begins. As it soon will. And pray there are no more untoward incidents before TJ wraps up.”
“It was all Jonathan’s fault,” Lewis said. “We were prepared to come forward until he persuaded us not to, actually made the formal motion not to, and then cast the deciding vote in favor of his own motion. Do you think we can convince Ashley and her father not to expose TITO given its importance to the arts?”
“Seriously, Ms. Lewis?” Brooks said. “Asking journalists to swallow a story, a hot, exclusive one at that? That would be like pouring gasoline on a fire. I’m afraid what we’re left with here is damage control. Let’s hope there are no more incidents. And that the only damage claims that can be raised are by Mr. Enright’s heirs. Those are manageable and probably covered by your insurance. What I worry about are the damages that will result if a shooter opens fire on an auditorium full of your participants.
OH, YEAH, RIGHT. BLAME it all on Jonathan. Or should I say Jon? It was all his fault. It’s always the other guy’s fault. Isn’t it? And no more incidents? Only Enright to worry about? What about Eileen Lonergan? Aren’t we overlooking Eileen? I can sure tell you I’m not! It may just be time for me to pay Ms. Lonergan a visit.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Day Four, 4:10 p.m.
LONERGAN HEARD A BANGING coming from somewhere. She had no idea what it was. Or where she was. Then she realized. I must have fallen asleep. Someone’s at the door. What now?
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Day Four, 4:15 p.m.
BROOKS TEXTED LOTELLO, ALIAS phone to alias phone. “Developments. RU free to catch up in upper floor suite?” Send.
A moment later, he read Lotello’s response: “Developments on my end too. Need to make one stop first. Upper floor, fifteen minutes.”
“Don’t dawdle,” he replied and set foot for the elevators.
BROOKS WAS WEARING A hole in the carpet by the time Lotello arrived, already huffing and puffing. “Where’ve you been?” Brooks didn’t wait for him to answer. “You first.” As always, Brooks wanted the last word.
Lotello gave Brooks the executive summary of his long-winded I exchange with Connor. “I was relieved when Connor blinked first. I would’ve hated to actually play the citizen’s arrest card. I don’t believe he was being honest, especially given his stated feelings to the TITO board about not needing to be transparent. However, I do think I managed to knock some of the wind out of his sails.”
“Of course,” Brooks said. “Not to worry about our questionable authority. Whomever goes first, loses, and Connor’s the one who caved.” Brooks then told Lotello what Lewis had shared with him.
“I saw that young woman watching my confrontation with Connor. I’m not so sure about your principle that whomever goes first loses.”
“And why not?” Brooks challenged.
“Had TITO gone first and been forthcoming, they would not be in as much trouble as they might now be.”
“Good point, Detective. I may need to refine my hypothesis somewhat. By the way, what was that one stop you had to make that was important enough to keep me waiting?”
“I stopped by Lonergan’s room. I wanted to run my conversation with Connor past her.”
“And? How long were you planning on keeping me in the dark on this?”
“On what?” Lotello asked. “Nothing to share. She wasn’t in her room. I also telephoned her room to be sure. No answer.”
Not only did Brooks not like to go first, he was also used to having the last word. His equilibrium was off. Eloise occasionally accuses me of being spoiled, at least someone who tends to demand instant gratification. After thirty plus years on the bench, and seldom being reversed on appeal, I might suffer from a little of this. But is that so bad?
When Lotello came calling, Lonergan should have answered her door, or at least her phone. He had a bad feeling. “Cocktail party is in forty-five minutes. Ms. Lonergan should certainly be there, networking and all that malarkey. Let’s get you another ticket to accompany me.”
REDRESS
A Novel
By Terrence Hawke
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Three down, two to go. The last two tougher on me than the first three.
The first three had it coming. I don’t feel sorry for them at all.
But the last two, innocent but necessary pawns, what spooks refer to as “collateral damage.”
Number four, if he was still around after the release of REDRESS, and if he thought about things carefully enough, he might just have been able to put two and two together and figured out who I am. That wouldn’t have done. Without more, that made it necessary enough to dispose of him. But the real reason to kill him was because I needed an outsider victim at the writing conference to raise the stakes for the conference organizer’s failure to be transparent. The first three were all insiders. In addition to wanting to make problems for the writing organization, this was an added bonus for me personally. They were more for me, apart from setting up the writing organization.
As for the fifth and final victim, that will be the toughest on me of all five. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I’m not done with her yet. I’m not ready for her yet.
So back to the fourth. The fourth was easy for me to arrange. I met him at the conference. He was wearing his heart on his sleeve, desperate to find a high caliber literary agent who could take him to the big leagues. Enter … me, the supposed agent extraordinaire. My credentials looked impeccable in terms of what he wanted. Or, I should say, what he thought he wanted. All I needed was a phony website to complete my image.
I invited him to lunch on the terrace of my suite. We talked a little about his goals, why he was writing, what he hoped to achieve. So boring. We stood looking out at the aquatic vista until the pills I used to lace his wine took their toll. When he passed out, I made sure it was permanent.
I put the Do Not Disturb sign on my door. I would have to leave him in the room until late in the evening, when I could deliver him up to his final watery resting place.
THE COMPASS
A Novel
By Laramie Greene
Chapter Forty-One
Another day, another missing writing conference participant. This one a run of the mill outsider. The organization’s board is now irrevocably locked in. Too late for them to reverse their engines, find their moral compass, and choose to be transparent to all of their conference participants. Wait until the last victim’s family finds out what the board already knew and consciously elected to conceal. And find out they will, if only when they read THE COMPASS.
The board’s investigative advisors came close to figuring out what I was doing, but I was too smart for them. And way too quick. My only regret is that I can’t share my real name. Not yet. Thanks to those who held me back, a pseudonym was the only way I could pull this off.
For now, I have no choice. For now, only I can know what I will have accomplished, much like those great art collectors sometimes forced to keep their incredible but historically stolen collections locked away in their private basement vaults. Which it would be so inspiring to share with the rest of the world. Someday, however, all will safely be revealed, and history will recognize me for the true literary genius that I am.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Day Four, 4:45 p.m.
BROOKS AND LOTELLO HAD arrived early and had been at the cocktail party for over fifteen minutes. There was no sign of Lonergan.
“I’ll never forgive myself,” Brooks said to Lotello. “We should never have left her unguarded after we learned from her what we did this afternoon, especially when we weren’t more forthcoming than we were. After what she t
old us about Connor, we should have insisted on a security detail for her. At a minimum, perhaps we should have insisted that she move into one of the empty bedrooms in our suite. Or we could have reconfigured things, ladies in one room, men in the other.”
NOT IDEAL, BUT IT will do. The great ones always make do. Innovate. Did she recognize me? The hoodie may have helped. And the way I jammed the syringe into her with lightning speed—very impressive if I do say so myself. Out in a flash—that’s me, just like Mick Jagger, Jumping Jack Flash. Using the wheelchair and blankets to move her and her computer bag to my spare room, that was admittedly a little risky, but great rewards are not achieved without some degree of risk. She should be out for hours. Long enough for me to make the rounds and do what I have to do at the cocktail party and then after at the bar. Besides, she’s tied up and gagged. No one will hear her even if she comes to before I return. Taping her eyes closed for good measure was also a nice touch—to keep her in the dark, one might say. Haha! Once I’m back, I’ll find out exactly what she knows about what I’ve been doing, and whether she’s saved any incriminating notes about me on her laptop. How I need to respond to protect everything I’ve been planning. After I first permanently dispose of her, that is. Too bad for her. Too bad for TITO. So bad, so sad.
Brooks-Lotello Collection Page 92
