I took another bite of my swordfish. I was going to throw her a bone and see if she bit.
Kitty waited for me to finish chewing and then stared at me, waiting for an answer.
"What?" I wasn't sure why she was still staring.
Kitty raised her voice. "What do you mean, 'what'? Tell me what you've found out."
I leaned across the table a bit, making sure not to burn my chest on the candle that provided the ambiance for this lovely dinner.
"Well, we received another email."
Kitty perked up.
"The email was anonymous and didn't really have any information, but someone knows I've been poking around. They told me that I was on the right track."
"Oh my. This is getting interesting."
"I tried to trace the IP address of the email but I came up with nothing. Right now it's just a dead lead. Any idea who could have sent it?"
"Not a clue. It wasn't me, if that's what you're asking."
"I didn't think it was you," I answered.
"Well, you'd be right. If I wanted to send you something I would just send it."
"Of course."
We continued to eat our meals while I also chewed on the conversation. Once dinner was complete, Kitty explained that she would have to be going. She had another engagement this evening. She was hopeful that I'd get to the bottom of that new email for my own sake. She didn't want to see me in any type of trouble. She added that she had a hunch that it was Mike, but she couldn't be too sure. She reminded me how nasty that first email was that he had sent. I told her to rest assured I was working on it, and if I found anything out I'd let her know immediately. She thanked me for my time and for all of my help.
"And make sure you tell Miss Whitehall that I very much appreciate her help as well. I really do like that lady, Max. Don't let her slip away."
I agreed with Kitty about the female wonder that was Imogen, and then we bid each other adieu. Kitty got up, received her coat from the coat check, and then ascended the stairs, leaving me at the table. I picked up my phone and texted Imogen: She's on her way out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
As soon as Kitty was out of sight, I ran over to the coat check, picked up my coat, and headed up the stairs, careful not to let Kitty see me. I saw her exit the restaurant, so I pulled back and stood at the top of the stairs for a moment. I turned toward the window and looking up over the sill, I could see Kitty starting to walk north toward the car. I ran for the door.
When I finally made it out of the restaurant, I could see the back of Ginny hurrying toward Barnes & Noble. She was supposed to pick me up. I picked up the pace and attempted to catch up to her. Running now, I was nipping at Ginny's heels.
"Ginny!" I called just before I tapped her on the back. "Slow down."
Imogen, shaken by my touch, turned and greeted me. "You scared me!" Then without missing a beat she continued, "She's right there," pointing to Kitty as she walked into Barnes & Noble.
"What are you doing out of the car?" I asked her.
"I saw her walking directly into the bookstore. I couldn't just sit there and hope that I'd see her come out. There are a lot of people here, Max!"
"Look at you braving the cold. And walking two blocks, no less."
"It's for a good cause."
"Let's wait here," I said. "If she pops out, we'll have to follow her on foot. I have no idea where she parked."
"It's freezing out here, Max."
"We won't stay that long. If she's not out in ten minutes, we'll leave."
"Promise?"
"What happened to doing this for a good cause?"
"I can't feel my fingers."
We were now at the north end of Union Square, which was still very lively. In fact, more lively than during the day. People were bustling about, carrying bags, stumbling out of the various breweries. Taxis were everywhere, transporting people to and fro. Ginny and I just stood on the northwest corner of 18th Street eyeing the entrance to Barnes & Noble.
"What is she doing here?" I asked.
"No idea. Book shopping? Looking for a magazine?"
"I doubt it. Books weren't her thing. Maybe just killing time?"
"Max, take my mind off of the cold. How was dinner?"
"Warmer than out here."
"Very helpful, Max."
We waited about ten minutes and then Kitty emerged empty-handed from the store. She headed in our direction, so we rounded the corner and waited. Kitty walked within ten yards of us, turned, and then started walking south toward 14th Street. Ginny and I stealthily followed, drawing upon all of our knowledge of tailing your target that we gleaned from our combined detective-novel-reading experience.
"We can't let her see us," Ginny said.
"Yes, I know."
"Let her go on a bit," she said. "Then we'll trail her. That's how you do it."
People were dashing here and there, partially blocking our line of sight on Kitty.
"I'm losing her," I said.
"I see her. Trust me. We have to blend into the crowd."
There were plenty of people for us to blend into.
"Where the hell did she park?" I asked, as we scurried along.
"How do we know she parked anywhere? She could have taken the train."
I laughed. "Trust me. She drove."
We were approaching 14th Street, and Kitty hung a left, down into the subway. Kitty Baxter taking the subway. That's a first.
Ginny and I followed slowly. She was heading uptown. We let Kitty walk a bit, and then both Ginny and I hopped the turnstile. There was no time to pull out our MetroCards. People looked at us. I think they were just shocked to see a middle-aged white guy leap over the turnstile. No one said a word as Ginny and I continued our pursuit. Once again I had my eyes on Kitty. She was waiting at the far end of the platform. Ginny and I stood mid-platform, sitting on one of the benches, heads down, trying our best to remain incognito.
The train arrived and Kitty got in the last car. Ginny and I ran and entered the car next to Kitty's. The subway doors closed and then we took off, heading uptown. I peeked through the back of the car into Kitty's car. There she was, sitting, staring at her phone. 23rd Street, 28th Street, 34th Street passed. I kept my eye on Kitty. She was still sitting. 42nd Street. Kitty got up and exited the subway.
"Let's go!" I said, pulling Imogen.
We let Kitty get some distance away as we followed her through Grand Central Station. Where the hell was she going? We finally made it into the main terminal of Grand Central. I loved this place. I stared up at the ceiling. I loved the constellation fresco. We watched Kitty exit, then followed her uptown on foot.
"She's heading to BMC," I said. "They're right around the corner."
Sure enough, Kitty strolled right to 44th Street and entered the building. Imogen and I stood on the corner trying to calculate our next move.
"Now what?" Imogen asked. "We can't go in there."
"Let's wait out here for a bit. See who comes out."
"I'm freezing, Max!"
I convinced Imogen to stay. We had waited on the corner for about thirty minutes in silence, freezing, when we saw Kitty's Bentley pull out of the side garage and take off up Park Avenue. I could see the silhouettes of two people through the rear window as it sped away from us.
"They're gone," I said. "We really need to work on our surveillance skills."
"Who cares? Get me somewhere warm. Pronto!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
After we watched Kitty's Bentley speed away from us, we hailed a taxi and headed back to my car. Forty-five minutes later, we were back at the brownstone. Ginny and I sat down with a spot of tea, trying to thaw out from our half-assed stakeout.
Kitty was indeed playing both sides. That had to have been Mike in the front seat with her. But I wasn't sure. All I saw was a black silhouette that looked like the back of a man's head. It was taller than Kitty's silhouette. That was all I knew.
I wasn't sure of her motive o
r why she would want me to discover that Mike was indeed the one who had murdered Ted, especially if she was romantically involved with him. Maybe she needed out of the relationship. One thing was clear: I needed to meet with Mike and dig around a little bit more. POP was my ace in the hole. We had nearly completed our round and we were putting the final touches on the deal between POP and BMC. There was reason to celebrate, which was exactly what I was going to propose. Drinks at Olives, on the corner of Union Square East, in eyeshot of Barnes & Noble. Maybe he was supposed to meet Kitty there last night. Maybe this visual might get Mike talking. Even a touch.
I met Mike the following evening around 6 p.m. We sat on a black leather couch facing the window overlooking Union Square. The weather was cold but clear. Night had already fallen, and Union Square had taken on the typical city glow from the streetlights and buildings that surrounded its perimeter. I ordered a scotch and Mike had a gin and tonic. We exchanged some small talk about the upcoming holiday and New Year's. Was I doing something special? Taking a vacation? Meeting family? I was vague, as was he. I finished my scotch and ordered another.
"So I believe congratulations are in order," Mike said.
"Indeed."
"We're excited, Max. POP's going to be huge."
"I certainly hope so. Seems like we're on the right track." I floated that line by him to see if he had any reaction. Nothing.
"They certainly are. The coming year is going to be huge for them. So, have you finished the round?"
"We're close. Just about to finalize the other three term sheets and then we're done. I think we should be closed by Christmas."
"Well, kudos to you, Max, on a job well done!" We clinked our glasses together.
Kudos. I never heard that word anymore. Kitty and Mike were sharing vocabulary.
"Thanks, Mike."
We chatted a little more about the round and POP. Mike was genuine with me. At least, that was how I read him. But he was a calculating sort of fellow, so as he talked I would try to picture him killing Ted. In cold blood. Sometimes I could picture it. Sometimes it just seemed impossible. Then I tried to picture Kitty and Mike together. How did that work? Mike was a pretty controlling guy. Kitty was a strong personality. I couldn't see that working out, but as Imogen had told me on numerous occasions, opposites attract.
"Do you make it down here often?" I asked.
"Where? Union Square?"
"Yeah. I love Blue Water Grill, so I always find myself down this way."
"Once in a while. Sometimes I'll grab a book at Barnes & Noble during lunch, or if I'm down this way for a meeting. But it's rare."
"I'm usually here at night. I never make it down this way during the day."
"I'm the opposite. If I'm down here, it's during the day. I'll hit the Greenmarket. Sometimes Kate pops into the city to hit Gramercy Tavern, so we'll walk around Union Square first."
"I had dinner the other night with Kitty at Blue Water Grill," I said.
Mike blinked a few times. Maybe he was reminiscing about his outburst at Gramercy Tavern, when he left Kate conversing with her dessert. Was that a rare moment of weakness for icy Mr. Miller that he was hoping I had forgotten?
"You don't say…" He took a sip of his drink then continued, "What did Kitty have to say for herself?"
"You should know. Aren't you two, well, you know…"
Mike started to laugh. "Max…Max…"
Maybe I was wrong. "The other night at dinner, you, well, lost your temper."
I didn't want to step on his toes. Or, even worse, get him angry with me.
He was still chuckling. "Oh, that? Kate can't stand Kitty…I just get tired of hearing it. Kitty and I?" He really started to laugh now. "There's no way, I mean…" He just continued to laugh. "Any-hoo, what did she want?"
"Wanted to talk about Ted."
"What's to talk about?"
"His murder."
"And?"
"Well, she wants me to help her to figure out who did it."
Mike was still chuckling.
"You're kidding, right?"
I took a sip of my drink then looked out onto Union Square. "No, I'm serious."
Mike was really laughing now. He tried to compose himself. "Since when are you a detective?" He actually seemed surprised and clearly amused by the prospect of me traipsing around New York City, looking for clues and chatting up potential witnesses. "All you need is a fedora and a trench coat."
"Thanks." I decided to laugh along with Mike.
"She's really grasping at straws if she's trying to get you involved," Mike said. "Not that I blame her. I hear her money is tied up."
How did he know that? I thought I was the only one privy to that information, courtesy of Detective Carrington's wild accusations. I was going to play dumb and see where Mike led me.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"What I said. Her money is tied up for the time being."
"How do you know that?"
"We're the beneficiary of Ted's estate, in trust, until they solve Ted's murder."
"BMC?"
"Yup. It's all ours. Although we can't touch it for twenty-five years."
"So, did you kill Ted?"
Mike burst out with laughter. His drink nearly spilled, he was laughing so hard.
"Oh, Max! You're killing me." Once his raucous belly laughs simmered to mere snickers, he continued, "Now, why would I do something like that?"
I looked at him dead in the eyes. "You just told me. The money."
Mike laughed in my face—literally. He couldn't hold it in. "Money? Money! I have more money than I could spend in three lifetimes! What the hell do I need Ted's money for? Max, you're hilarious!"
I played off the question as a mocking attempt by myself to play detective. Mike just kept laughing. "I wouldn't quit my day job," he said. "Listen, I've got a better idea for you than playing detective—we've got the BMC holiday party coming up. I know this is last minute, but would you and Imogen like to come?"
Were we becoming buddies?
"Sure," I said.
"Great." Mike lifted his glass and proposed a toast. "To a successful New Year!"
"Hear, hear." We touched glasses and I took a sip of my third scotch. I leaned back on the couch, crossed my legs, and hoped he was right.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I was confused. Very confused. I filled Imogen in on my meeting with Mike. She didn't buy it. She felt that he was putting on a front. He was a cold, calculating, manipulative bastard. Acting couldn't be that hard for him. He did it every day. I explained to her that she didn't see him in person, laughing in my face. He was very believable. She said I was probably drunk. She was probably right.
Christmas was just days away, so I was in overdrive trying to get the POP round of funding closed. Ginny was working overtime with me at the office. She still had no clue about the impending proposal, but I was still working on finalizing the plans.
I was sitting in my office, reading over some documents, when I received a call.
"Max?"
"Yes."
"Oh, I'm glad that I caught you."
I was trying to figure out the voice on the other end of the line.
"Oh, sorry. It's Seth Cohen."
"Hi, Seth."
"I hope you don't mind me giving you a ring. I had to talk to you."
"Sure. No problem. You still in New York?"
"Yes, I'm still here. I'm actually around the corner. Can I come by?"
"Sure, why not."
"OK, I'll be there in ten minutes."
I hung up and called Imogen into my office. She sauntered in, had a seat in the Aeron chair across from me, and crossed her legs.
"What's up, boss?"
"Boss?"
"It's quite evident that I work here now and that you're the boss."
"Well, that's quite a revelation, my dear."
"Indeed. It's also clear that I am not on the payroll."
"Another revelation?"
"
Indeed."
"Well, Miss Whitehall, we'll have to work on remedying that situation posthaste."
"What a benevolent boss you are."
"I try." Imogen was still relaxed in her chair. "Listen, I have a surprise for you."
"Don't tell me this is it."
"What?"
"Are you going to pull out a little black box and take a knee?"
"Not quite." Imogen looked half dejected, masked by a smile. "Do you remember Seth Cohen?"
"The guy from the party? I didn't meet him, remember?"
"Right, of course. Anyway, he's going to be here in ten minutes."
"And I should be excited, why?"
"He's got something to tell me and it might be interesting."
"Like what?"
"I have no idea. But it sounds important."
"Wunderbar. I'm on pins and needles."
We sat in my office for a few minutes waiting for Seth. Sara, my administrative assistant, finally knocked on my door.
"I have a Seth Cohen here for you."
"Great. Send him in."
Seth walked into the office, shook hands with me, turned to Ginny, and then back toward me. "Who is this?"
"Oh, sorry. Seth, this is Imogen Whitehall, a colleague of mine." Ginny extended her hand to shake.
Seth shook the hand and then asked, "So, you think I could talk to you alone?"
Why did everyone want to talk to me alone?
I explained that Imogen could stay. Seth wasn't thrilled, but must have decided that Ginny was OK. He looked nervous and sweaty, which was odd, because it was thirty degrees outside and sixty-something degrees in my office. I liked it chilly.
He sat next to Ginny in the other available Aeron chair.
"I love these chairs. We have them in our office as well."
Now that we'd established our love of $1,200 chairs… "What's up, Seth?"
Cohen sat at the edge of his chair, nervously wringing his hands, his brow perspiring, which he wiped, his wrist sporting a gold watch. He leaned across my desk. "Do you remember what I told you that night at the party?"
"About BMC?"
"Yeah, about BMC."
"What about it?" Imogen asked.
I nodded assent to Seth that he could speak openly about BMC.
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