Grab

by Jeff Elkins

“Please. No,” Stacie said as if the idea was offensive. “I did have a stalker once, and we had to file restraining orders. I also have to occasionally threaten to sue people, when they start claiming they have nudes of me.”

  “Do they have nudes of you?” Moe said, genuinely curious what her friend’s old life was like.

  “No. But, they’re not afraid of Photoshop,” Stacie said.

  Giuliano got to a page in the documentation that he didn’t approve of. He began shaking his head and pointing out something on the page to the woman. She took the packet, read the passage he was saying no to and handed it back to him. There was a quick back and forth that ended with him passing the documents back to her and throwing his hands in the air.

  “Wave down James. We need the check,” Moe said.

  Stacie motioned for James and told him she needed the check, as Moe watched the woman pack up her paperwork. She continued talking for a few more minutes. Giuliano stared off into space, no longer interested in what she had to say. The woman rose and left.

  “I’m so confused,” Stacie said.

  “There’s something weird going on,” Moe said. “I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  Giuliano finished his coffee, removed his wallet, dropped a wad of cash on the table, stood and left.

  “We’re on the move, again,” Moe said, taking a final drink from her coffee.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Moe stood at the reception desk of Kingsington Life, waiting to be seen. A bright-eyed young man sat behind the desk. “I’m sure they will be here any minute,” he said with a smile.

  “I’m a little early,” Moe said, smiling at him, reassuringly. She could tell she was making him anxious and she felt bad about it. She wondered how many visitors came in every day. She bet not many. The offices were quiet. Occasionally, a professional looking person would come out of one office and walk down the hall to another, but not enough to disrupt the silence of the room.

  Moneta yawned. It had been a long night. After the Sagamore, Giuliano had returned home. Moe and Stacie had staked out his house for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. They’d even had a pizza delivered to the bench up the block. Giuliano had finally emerged again around 8:30 to go to a bar, where he’d flirted with every woman who came within two feet of him. Moe had snapped eighteen pictures of him chatting up and dancing with other women. By the end of the night, Moe was certain of two things: Giuliano was a man-whore who would flirt with anyone who came near him, and Giuliano didn’t have a mistress, although it likely wouldn’t take much to persuade him.

  Moneta held the folder of pictures she’d brought with both hands. She was hoping to get more out of this meeting than just a check. She wanted answers.

  Caroline came marching down the hallway. For the third day in a row, she was wearing a pencil skirt and blouse. The receptionist instinctively sat up at the sound of Caroline’s heels clicking toward him.

  Arriving at the desk, Caroline held out a check to Moneta and said, “Mrs. Kingsington-Ring thanks you for your service.”

  “I’m sorry. I can only give these directly to my employer,” Moe said with an apologetic smile.

  “Mrs. Kingsington-Ring asked me to collect them for her,” Caroline said, holding the check out again.

  “I understand, but I was paid for discretion, and that means I hand these photos to her alone,” Moe said.

  The receptionist shrank in his chair, uncomfortable with the conversation. Moe imagined people in the office didn’t stand up to Caroline very often, and when they did there was likely hell to pay.

  Caroline removed a speck of lint from her blouse. “As Mrs. Kingsington-Ring’s mentioned in your meeting with her, I am her personal assistant. Giving the photos to me is like giving them to her. You can trust me with them.”

  “I can’t give them to you because you’re in them,” Moe said with a grin.

  “If I’m not, then you’re terrible at your job,” Caroline shot back without missing a beat. She passed Moe the check and held out her hand.

  Moe finally decided to take the check. She folded it, put it in her back pocket, and leaned against the receptionist’s desk. “I don’t have any other appointments today. I can wait for Mrs. Kingsington-Ring to be available.” The receptionist adjusted his tie and focused on his computer screen.

  Caroline glared, sighed and then marched back down the hall, her heels clicking as she went.

  Moe looked at the receptionist. “People don’t stand up to her often do they?” Moe asked.

  Staying focused on his computer screen, the receptionist replied quietly, “Not if they want to keep their job.”

  The clicking of Caroline’s heals signaled her approach. “Mrs. Kingsington-Ring will see you now,” she said. Without waiting for Moneta, Caroline turned and marched back down the hallway.

  Before following the personal assistant, Moe smiled at the receptionist in victory and he gave her a quick thumbs up.

  Caroline opened the large door to the office quietly, stepped in and then, held the door for Moe. Four men in dark-colored suits were sitting around Mrs. Kingsington-Ring’s desk. Each one was scribbling in a notebook, taking orders from Mrs. Kingsington-Ring. Seeing Moneta in the back of the room, Mrs. Kingsington-Ring brought her speech to a stop, stood and said, “Thank you, gentlemen. Let’s break for thirty minutes.”

  Without a word, the men stood and filed out of the room. Mrs. Kingsington-Ring stood and followed behind them. “Ms. Watkins, I appreciate your insistence on discretion. In the future, feel free to give anything you have for me directly to Caroline.” Mrs. Kingsington-Ring walked to the bar against the wall and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Can I get you anything to drink?” she said.

  “No, ma’am,” Moe said with a gracious smile. “I understand you are busy. I won’t take much of your time.”

  Mrs. Kingsington-Ring nodded and sat down at the conference table. Moe took a seat next to her and placed the folder on the table. She’d planned this moment out in hopes of drawing information out of her employer. Moe started by laying nine photos, in three rows of three, in front of Mrs. Kingsington-Ring. The photos were printed in high-resolution on eight-and-a-half-by-eleven, glossy paper. Moe had learned early in this game that client’s like big shiny pictures over digital files. They were from the bar Giuliano had been at last night. Each showed the woman’s husband laughing or flirting with a twenty-something woman. “These are from last night at Mad River Pub,” Moneta said.

  Mrs. Kingsington-Ring gave each photo a clinical examination. If she were having an emotional response to the pictures, it didn’t show on her face.

  Moe collected the first round, stacked them together, and then, laid out nine more show Giuliano Ring with nine other women. This round caught him with his arm around two women and dancing with another seven. “In my professional opinion, your husband met all of these women for the first time last night. After five hours of drinking and dancing, he left the bar alone and returned home,” Moneta said.

  Again, Mrs. Kingsington-Ring was unfazed. She looked at each picture and nodded.

  Moe collected round two and laid out the next six pictures. These were all of the woman at lunch. There was a photo of her arriving, a photo of her and Giuliano talking, pictures of Giuliano reading the documents, pictures of Giuliano handing them back and a picture of the woman leaving. As Moe laid them out, she explained, “Your husband met this woman for lunch at the Sagamore hotel. They spoke for five minutes. She passed him an envelope of documents. He read through them and appeared to reject them.”

  Mrs. Kingsington-Ring studied these with more interest. “Were you able to discover who this woman is?” Mrs. Kingsington-Ring asked.

  “No, ma’am,” Moe said with regret. “With such a quick turnaround, I was not able to research her. I would be happy to do that for you today, if you would like to extend our arrangement.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Mrs. Kingsington-Ring said, as she picked up the photo
that gave the clearest shot of the woman’s face and handed it to Caroline, who took the photo and left the room without a word.

  Moe gathered the remaining pictures and laid out new photos of Giuliano’s interaction with the nanny in the park. “Before lunch, Mr. Ring had a confrontation with a Kingsington Life nanny at Riverside Park,” Moe said.

  Mrs. Kingsington-Ring gave these a cursory look, but she did not seem interested in these photos.

  Moe decided to take a risk. She’d already been paid. What was there to lose? “This is not the nanny currently serving in your house, correct?” Moe asked.

  Mrs. Kingsington-Ring gave her a stern look.

  “They had a very heated altercation,” Moe said, probing further.

  Mrs. Kingsington-Ring stacked the photos and place them with the others she’d seen. “I was informed,” she said.

  With a nod, Moe laid out the final set. They depicted Giuliano Ring and Caroline’s fight at the coffee shop. “Mr. Ring started his day yesterday confronting your personal assistant,” Moe said.

  These photos did not surprise Mrs. Kingsington-Ring. She gave them only a cursory look. Picking them up, she stacked them with the rest and put them all in a folder. Standing she said, “Are these the only copies?”

  Moe retrieved a thumb-drive from her pocket and handed it to her employer, “These are the only copies, ma’am,” she lied.

  “You’ve done excellent work, Ms. Watkins,” Mrs. Kingsington-Ring said, as she collected the folder of pictures and walked toward her desk. “I’m certain you can see yourself out,” she said.

  “One more question,” Moe said quickly, following her employer toward the desk. “Who is Nadia?”

  The name caught Mrs. Kingsington-Ring’s attention, but she quickly covered her surprise. Placing the photos in a drawer in her desk, she said, “Thank you for your service, Ms. Watkins.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Kingsington-Ring,” Moe said.

  Moneta looked at the check, as she rode down to the lobby in the elevator. It was the most she’d ever made for two days of work, and she really wanted to be happy with the work she’d done. Cash the check and move on to the next client: that was the smart thing to do. But, there were a lot of things about this case that were still bothering her. Who was the blond woman? Why was she meeting with Giuliano Ring? What was the deal with those nannies? Who was this Nadia woman, and where was she?

  The elevator doors opened, and Moneta walked through the lobby to her car where Stacie was waiting. As she sat down in the driver’s seat, Stacie asked, “Well? How’d it go?”

  Moneta passed her the check.

  Stacie looked at it and said, “I mean, damn. That’s a lot of money for two days work. But I don’t care about that. I want to know what you learned. Who was that woman? Who’s Nadia? What’s up with the weird nannies?”

  Moneta started the car. “I got nothing,” she said.

  “Wait, what?” Stacie asked with shock.

  “We’re off the case. It’s closed,” Moneta said. She stared at her hands on the steering wheel. She wasn’t ready to leave, but she wasn’t sure what to do.

  “But we can’t give up,” Stacie said. There was uncharacteristic desperation in her voice. It surprised Moe that her friend would want to continue the case as badly as Moe did. “So what are we going to do?” Stacie asked.

  Moe looked over her shoulder, preparing to pull her car into traffic. “We’re going to talk to Baba,” she said.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jake’s Diner was open twenty-four/seven. Moe was unsure if her grandfather ever left. Like something out of a 1980’s cop movie, the diner was dark and dirty. Regardless of the time of day, the shades were always closed. Old ripped booths lined the walls and old wooden tables and chairs took up the middle. Patrons entering the dive were greeted by a large display case of pastries that Moe had never seen anyone eat.

  “Hey, Desiree,” Moe said to the hostess, as she entered. The older woman was rolling silverware in napkins behind the checkout counter. The place was pretty slow at this time in the morning. The breakfast crowd had cleared out, and the lunch group hadn’t started to show up yet. Moe bet she was just trying to pass the time.

  “Hey, Baby,” Desiree said with a mothering smile. “He’s out back this morning.” A few years back, Moe had once wondered if her grandfather and Desiree were romantically entangled. Moe finally decided the woman was just friendly and flirtatious. “Who’s your friend?” Desiree added, nodding toward Stacie.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Moe said. “This is Ms. Stacie Howe, my partner.”

  “He’s out back, where he always is,” Desiree said.

  “Thanks,” Moe said, as she led the way through the restaurant to the back door. Pushing open the door, they stepped out into the alley. It smelled like garbage, old booze and smoke. Jake’s Place shared the alley with a warehouse. To Moe and Stacie’s right, there was a large dumpster. To their left, there was an old plastic table with four plastic chairs. In one chair, sat an elderly bald man with an unkempt grey beard. He was dressed in a simple blue t-shirt and jeans. He ate a plate of eggs and toast, while sipping coffee and smoking a giant cigar. Across from him sat Detective Mason, who was wearing his standard rumpled grey suit.

  “Hey, Baba,” Moe said with a smile.

  Her grandfather stood. “Baby Girl! How’s my favorite granddaughter?” he asked, stepping toward her and giving her a big hug.

  “I’m your only granddaughter, Baba,” she said with a mocking tone.

  He squeezed her. “Don’t ruin it,” he said.

  Stepping back, he looked at Stacie and asked, “Who’d you bring to see me?”

  “This is my friend and new partner, Stacie Howe,” Moe said.

  Stacie shook Baba’s hand and said, “It’s a pleasure.”

  “Oh. Well,” Baba said with a laugh. “You hear that Eddie? It’s a pleasure to meet me.”

  Detective Mason grunted a laugh and sipped his coffee.

  “Where’s your other half?” Moe asked the detective, as she took a seat at the table. Stacie and Baba joined her.

  Baba snorted with disapproval.

  “You jealous?” Detective Mason asked with a smile.

  “Please,” Baba said, leaning back and taking a drag on his cigar. “I’m the best partner you ever had. No one compares.”

  Ignoring Baba’s outburst, Detective Mason said, “We just finished a double. He went home to get some sleep.”

  “You didn’t need sleep?” Stacie asked.

  “When you get to my age, you only need about ten hours a week,” the detective said.

  Baba took a big bite of eggs, wiped his mouth, and then said, “Eddie, why don’t you give me some time with my granddaughter.”

  “Alright,” the detective said, standing. He nodded at Stacie and said, “Ms. Howe.” Looking at Moe he said, “Young lady.” Then, he left the alley.

  “So, what brings you out here to see an old man? I know it ain’t the scenery.” Baba said as he took a sip of coffee.

  The back door opened, and Desiree appeared. She laid coffees and plates of eggs, toast, and bacon in front of Moe and Stacie. “Thank you, pretty lady,” Baba said.

  “On the house,” Desiree said, as she turned to leave.

  Moe took a sip of the coffee and a bite of the bacon. The edges were burned, just how she liked it. She smiled at Stacie, who’d begun devouring the eggs. Moe noticed the bags under Stacie’s eyes for the first time, which made her realize how tired she was. She yawned. “Have you heard from any of the boys?” she asked.

  Baba laughed. “You know your brothers don’t want a damn thing to do with me,” he said. A grave expression came over Baba’s face. He reached out and held Moe’s hand. “What happened was hard. You were too young to lose both parents.”

  Moe smiled. “It’s the past,” she said, squeezing his hand.

  Baba stared off down the alley and said, “Your mother was an amazing woman. When she was in high school, I’
d come home after a long shift, and it would be well after midnight, and I’d find her asleep at the kitchen table, laying on one of her books. She was so smart.”

  Moe could feel a knot building in her throat. “Yeah,” she said with a forced smile.

  Baba took a drag on his cigar and blew the smoke in the air, while Stacie finished the last piece of toast on her plate. “Enough thinking about sad things in the past,” Baba said. “Tell me why you’re really here.”

  “I’ve got a case I need your help with,” Moe said.

  Baba’s eyes sparkled. Sitting forward, he said, “Hit me with it.”

  “I can’t share details,” Moe said.

  “Of course,” Baba said with an approving nod.

  “But I need you to tell me if you’ve ever seen this woman,” Moe said, holding up her phone with a picture of the blonde from the Sagamore.

  Baba took the phone, gave it a close look, and then handed it back to Moe. “She’s a fed,” he said.

  “Like FBI?” Stacie asked with surprise.

  Moe grabbed Baba’s hand and squeezed it again. “Thank you, Baba,” she said.

  He returned the gesture. His face filled with wrinkles as he smiled. “Call your brother Robert. He’ll know her. All those Feds know each other,” Baba said.

  “No time. He’s in DC I think,” Moe said, standing to avoid any further discussion regarding her oldest brother.

  Taking the hint, Stacie stood, too.

  “You got a pen?” Baba asked.

  After rummaging in her purse for a few seconds, Stacie produced one and passed it to the old man.

  Using a napkin, he wrote out an address. “You’ll never get into their headquarters. It’s out on the west side and you’ve got to have an appointment, but they keep a small office in the city on Calvert Street. Only cops know about it. You’ll probably find her there.” Passing the napkin to Moe, he said, “Be careful, baby girl.”

  “Always,” Moe said with a smile.

  “It was very nice to meet you, Baba,” Stacie said.

  “Only she calls me Baba,” the old man said with a smile. “You can call me Abraham.”