The Hook

by Tim O'Mara

  ‘Brian,’ Henderson said, ‘always kept in touch with us when he … went away. He called every day, or every other day, and let us know he was OK.’ He paused. ‘He made it clear that if we called the police or tried to find him, we never would. And then pretty soon after that, he would just come home.’

  I reached over and took a sip from Edgar’s water. He looked at me and I gave him a look back; he needed to be in on this conversation. It took him a while to figure that out. But when he did, he asked exactly the question I was thinking of.

  ‘What makes this time different?’ Edgar said, and I subtly nodded my approval.

  Henderson took that question in. I watched his face as he did so. Again, I couldn’t shake the cop feeling this guy was giving off. I also believed the next thing out of his mouth was not going to be the complete truth, but that could’ve been an occupational hazard. When you work with kids in crisis and education bureaucrats, you expect lies and half-truths. I often expected it when someone’s lips were moving.

  ‘He hasn’t called us this time,’ Henderson said. ‘He left his phone at home, which he’s done before, but he’s always found a way to call us. Never a landline, though. I guess he knew they could be traced. He told us he was borrowing other people’s phones or using those pre-paid ones.’

  ‘Burners,’ Edgar said. ‘Hard to trace.’

  ‘That’s what Maurice suggested.’

  ‘What do you do, Mr Henderson?’ I asked, hoping to catch him off-guard.

  ‘I manage a hedge fund,’ he said. ‘Money is no problem if that’s—’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s just that your stepson is missing, you don’t get the police involved, and you don’t hire a private investigator. But, you do hire a security expert with little to no investigative experience.’

  ‘I knew Maurice from my friend who goes to the Newer Leaves meetings. I trusted him. He said he would deal with the police if need be, but we would talk about hiring a private investigator before that. Maurice promised to do what he could to keep my family’s name out of this. He was the closest person I knew to law enforcement without being law enforcement. My wife was not even comfortable with that.’

  The cop smell coming off this guy was getting stronger. David Henderson was as much a hedge fund manager as I was a peach farmer. I told myself to ask for a card before the meeting was over, but a business card was the easiest thing to fake. I could get one in two hours that claimed I played second base for the Seattle Mariners.

  ‘Was MoJo able to tell you anything useful?’ I asked.

  ‘No. I wanted to meet with you,’ he looked at Edgar, ‘to see if maybe he had told you anything, given you any information on what he had found before he … you know … was murdered.’

  Edgar shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I just found out about … this when you called. If Maurice told you he wouldn’t say anything to me, he meant it.’

  Again, I couldn’t help myself. ‘You have no reason to believe,’ I said, ‘that what happened to MoJo had anything to do with what he was doing for you, do you?’

  ‘I don’t see how, but not knowing what he found out, I can’t say.’ He thought about that some more. ‘No, absolutely not. I don’t see it having any connection. Brian’s a sixteen-year-old kid who’s missing. How does that connect to someone being murdered?’

  Following a question with a question. It reminded me too much of the kids I worked with now, and the cops and perps I worked with years ago.

  ‘It probably doesn’t,’ I said.

  Edgar said, ‘Where do you live, David?’

  ‘Midtown.’ He gave us an embarrassed grin. ‘We’re in one of those newer buildings on the west side of Manhattan. You ever hear of MiMa?’

  I nodded. ‘MiMa’ was a name the real estate people came up with for Midtown Manhattan in the hopes of rivaling SoHo, NoHo, Tribeca: a fake name that sounded desperately fancy. MiMa never took off. I think because it sounded too much like what an Italian kid called his grandmother. I had some friends in that neighborhood and the rule they went by was if you owned your apartment in that area, you called it Clinton or Midtown West. If you rented, you were living in Hell’s Kitchen.

  ‘We still have our place up in the Catskills, but we spend most of our time down here in the city.’

  ‘Do you have any other children?’ Edgar asked.

  ‘Just Brian. Believe me, he’s more than enough.’

  ‘You’ve obviously reached out to all of Brian’s friends?’ I asked.

  ‘The ones we know about, yes.’

  ‘And when was the last time you were up at your house in …’

  ‘Palenville,’ David said. ‘Not far from Hunter Mountain. We all like to ski. We checked the house two days after Brian left. No sign of him being there. We have a neighbor up there looking in on the place every day. Nothing.’

  We sat in silence, all of us in our own thoughts. I had more to say but reminded myself this was Edgar’s meeting and I wasn’t going to take over. That’s what I told myself until the silence got to be too much.

  ‘Well, David,’ I said, ‘our advice is that it’s time to go to the police. Eight days is a long time and the longer it gets, the more likely something bad’s going to happen.’

  Henderson looked at Edgar. ‘You don’t think you can take over where your partner left off?’

  Edgar took a breath. ‘That’s … I don’t know where Maurice left off because I didn’t know what was going on. Raymond’s right. You should really call the police. Or a private investigator who does missing persons. They’re good at this. I do high-tech security, jobs like that.’

  Henderson picked up a napkin, rolled it into a ball, and then worked it with his fingers as he mulled over our advice. ‘You’re probably right,’ he finally said. ‘I’m going to have to run that past Maureen. My wife.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘You should do that.’

  He got up. ‘Do I owe you anything for your time, Mr Martinez?’

  Edgar shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘I do believe I owe Mr Joseph for his. How would I go about …?’

  Edgar pulled a card out and handed it to Henderson. ‘You can send a check to our office. I’ll make sure it gets to his wife.’

  ‘I appreciate that.’ He shook our hands. ‘Thank you both for your time.’

  I got up. ‘How’d you get here? Drive?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll walk you to your car.’

  ‘There’s no need for that, Raymond. I’m familiar with this neighborhood.’

  ‘I need the air, Dave.’ If he could lie, so could I. ‘I’ll be right back, Edgar. Why don’t you get us a couple of beers? It’s almost five.’

  ‘OK, Ray.’

  When we got outside, Henderson said, ‘Really, Raymond. You don’t need to—’

  ‘Yeah, I do,’ I said. ‘Besides, you forgot to give us your card.’

  He made that look people make when they forget the obvious and pulled his wallet from his jacket. He handed me a card. Sure enough, it stated for anyone who wished to know that David Henderson was a hedge fund manager for DH Consultants.

  ‘You an American League fan?’ I asked.

  ‘I like the sound of “DH.” Are you a fan of baseball, Raymond?’

  ‘You could say that, Dave. I’m not a fan of being lied to, though.’

  He stopped walking. ‘I don’t think I follow you.’

  ‘I think you do,’ I said. ‘I had you pegged for a cop before you sat down.’

  He laughed. ‘I assure you, Raymond. I am not a cop. Just a money guy. If I were a cop, why would I need help finding my son?’

  ‘Stepson,’ I reminded him. ‘I don’t know, David. But if you’re such a money guy, I’d think you could buy the best private investigator you could who would eagerly take your money to look for Brian while keeping his mouth shut.’

  He started walking again. I followed. ‘You’re a suspicious man, Raymond. I guess that serves you well in your business.
’

  I was about to ask him why that was when I realized he still believed Edgar and I were partners in a security firm. ‘It helps,’ I said. ‘So, ex-military maybe?’

  We got to his car and he pulled out his keys. ‘You got me there,’ he said. ‘Ten years in the National Guard. Mostly weekend warrior stuff. I got out when my business took off. No time to play Saturday Soldier, you know?’

  ‘I guess not.’ I stuck out my hand. ‘Good luck. Do take our advice and contact the police no matter what Maura says.’

  He gave me a puzzled look. ‘Maureen, Raymond. My wife’s name is Maureen.’ He knew what I was doing, which made me think again that he was something other than he said he was.

  ‘Oh, right. Sorry.’

  ‘Goodbye, Raymond.’

  ‘Goodbye, David. Get home safe.’

  ‘Always do.’

  Back inside The LineUp, Edgar was at the bar with two pint glasses and a can of tomato juice in front of him. He was busy on his laptop when I slid onto the stool next to him. ‘Hey,’ I said, handing him the business card. ‘I think you should run another check on David Henderson.’

  He looked at me as if I’d just told him Halle Berry was hot. He turned his laptop so I could see the screen and said, ‘David Alan Henderson. DH Consultants. This is his website. Two addresses: one on West Forty Second in the city, one in Palenville, New York. Married to Maureen Henderson, one stepson named Brian Sean Henderson, taking his stepfather’s last name. Former National Guard member, he has a permit to carry in New York State and a valid New York State driver’s license.’

  ‘So,’ I said. ‘He appears to be who he says he is.’

  ‘Appears? You are one suspicious hombre, Ray.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said and took a sip of pilsner. ‘I just heard that from someone.’

  FIVE

  Allison came by the bar just after six. She took a stool next to mine, ordered a white wine, kissed my cheek hello, and wiggled her fingers at Edgar. I’d known Allison long enough to know the white wine order was a sure sign she had to work tonight and stay clearheaded.

  ‘What’s breaking?’ I asked.

  ‘Not breaking, really,’ she said. ‘A guy I was waiting to hear from finally reached out to me today. He said he could meet me tonight and he’s not sure how the rest of his week is going to play out. I’m looking at this as a possible series for the website, so I gotta jump when he says so for the moment.’

  ‘Cool. You gonna eat with us?’

  ‘No. Just a quick glass of wine and I’m out of here.’ She took a sip.

  ‘What’s so important about this guy?’

  Silence. There was a line I had clearly missed, even as I was stepping over it.

  ‘Remember those talks we’ve had about how sometimes you know something that I want to know but how you can’t tell me because I’m a reporter?’

  I grabbed my beer. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘This is one of those times I can’t tell you something because I’m a reporter.’

  I took a sip. ‘So this is what that feels like.’

  ‘This is what that feels like, tough guy.’

  Edgar looked at Allison’s drink of choice. ‘Working tonight?’

  A long sip of pinot this time. ‘Yeah. Hate to drink and run, but this is how we get subscribers, and subscribers is how we get advertisers, and advertisers is how I get paid.’

  ‘Shouldn’t that be “are” how?’ I asked.

  ‘Could be, Ray.’ She looked at her watch and took a finishing gulp of her wine. ‘I’ll check in with Strunk and White when I get the chance and get back to you.’

  She slid off her stool as I said, ‘Speaking of getting back …’

  ‘I have no idea. I’ll call or text when I’m done.’

  ‘And you’re sure you’re gonna be—’

  ‘I will be as safe as I would be if I didn’t know you, Ray.’ She kissed me again, this time on the lips, gave Edgar a quick shoulder squeeze and was out the door like she’d never been there.

  She was right, but it still got to me. Allison Rogers was a reporter long before I had met her, and she always handled herself like a pro. She was never one to put herself in unnecessary danger. Now that we were living together, though, I found myself worrying more about her. Sure, it had to do with how my feelings for her had grown, but not knowing when the woman I loved and slept with was going to be home kept me up until she was. In my entire adult life, I had never had someone at home to worry about. This was a new feeling for me.

  At least I admit it.

  ‘So, Ray,’ Edgar said. ‘What was it about Henderson that got your spider senses tingling?’

  ‘I didn’t believe his story. And something about him smells like a cop.’

  ‘He told you about his time with the National Guard?’

  ‘Yeah, that could be it. But it’s also the whole not wanting to get the cops involved or hiring a real private investigator. And it’s not sitting well with me that someone in the Newer Leaves program would just give up MoJo’s name like that.’

  ‘Maybe the guy asked MoJo and MoJo said OK.’

  ‘Maybe. I’m probably still jittery over finding the body.’ I told him what Royce had said about Jessica Fletcher and me.

  He gave me an awkward smile. ‘That is kinda funny, Ray.’

  ‘Not to me.’

  He was about to say something when his phone buzzed. He looked at the screen. ‘Lisa. Maurice’s wife.’

  ‘Talk to her. I gotta hit the head.’ On my way to the men’s room I heard him say, ‘Hey, Lisa.’ Even from here, I could tell he was nervous.

  When I got back, our food had arrived. Edgar was politely waiting for me before eating. ‘Lisa wants me to go by the house tomorrow.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Can you come with me?’

  I thought about that. ‘I wasn’t invited. Maybe she just wants to talk with you.’

  ‘She said she had some stuff MoJo left in an envelope for me. Stuff to do with the business. I can do that, but I’m not … I’m not used to talking with people who just lost a husband, you know? What do I do after she gives me the envelope?’

  ‘In my experience,’ I said as I shook some hot sauce onto my onion rings, ‘you just listen. Whatever she has to give you can wait if you think about it. Sounds to me like she wants you more for company than anything else.’

  ‘That’s what I can’t do, Ray.’ He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. ‘You know me better than anyone. I’m not good at … people.’

  I ate a few rings and took a bite of my burger. ‘OK. Text her back and see if it’s OK if I come along. If she sounds doubtful, you’re on your own.’

  He picked up his phone. ‘Thanks.’

  As he was texting Lisa, Mikey came up with two fresh beers. Since we were just a little more than halfway through the ones in front of us, I suspected Mikey had something on his mind. I wasn’t wrong.

  ‘Any chance you can take my Tuesday night shift, Ray?’ he asked. ‘I gotta date with a girl I’ve been working on for weeks. The one who comes in here twice a week for lunch? She works over on the avenue.’

  ‘Sorry, man. I’ve given all my April shifts to Maggie. She needs them more than I do. Summer courses. Why don’t you ask her? If she can’t, I’ll take the shift.’

  ‘Good idea. It took me three asks to get this date.’

  ‘You like this one, huh?’

  ‘First one I’ve met in a long time got her own place, a real job, and no kids.’

  Mikey was third-generation Greenpoint Polish. Between his day job working UPS, a bachelor’s in business, and the three nights a week he worked at The LineUp, he was considered quite the catch among the local ladies, especially those with Polish Catholic daughters pushing twenty-five, still unmarried and without kids.

  ‘I’ll get back to ya, Ray. Gonna call her now.’ He pulled out his cell, pointed at the fresh beers and said, ‘Those are with me, man.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Li
sa said she’d love to see you,’ Edgar said. ‘Tomorrow morning work?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess.’ One plus about being a dean instead of a classroom teacher was I didn’t have hours and hours of papers to grade over the weekend. ‘You want me to meet you there or can you pick me up?’

  ‘I’ll come get ya, Ray. That way we can walk in together. Thanks.’

  ‘You got it.’

  We finished our meals just as the Yankee game started. Something was still gnawing at me and that something was David Henderson. I didn’t want to bug Edgar with it again – it was just the kind of thing he’d obsess over – so I told him I was going to step outside and check in with Allison about something. She beat me to it.

  ‘You missing me already?’ I asked.

  ‘You sitting down?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I’m outside the bar. I was just going to call you to follow up on that guy I met with Edgar earlier. Why should I be sitting down?’

  ‘Is Edgar with you?’

  ‘He’s inside, Allie. Why? What’s going on?’

  ‘I just got a call from my guy over at the medical examiner’s office.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘He told me that they found fifty bags of heroin on MoJo when he came in yesterday. Sixty bags, Ray.’

  Whoa. ‘Where did they—’

  ‘They don’t take up much room. All he needed was a pair of pants. He had the bags in his pockets.’

  ‘How do they know it was heroin?’

  ‘They run field tests right away when they suspect drugs.’ Allison let me process that info. ‘He was either active again or selling. If he’d been caught with that much on him, he’d have been charged with possession with intent to distribute.’ She paused. ‘You said you saw no signs that he was using again?’

  ‘None. But like I said to Edgar, it’s tough to spot with some people.’ I took a breath. ‘But I’m not buying it, Allie.’

  A few seconds pause. ‘Not buying it or can’t buy it, Ray?’

  Shit. ‘Did they run a blood test on him?’

  ‘That’s going to take a little longer to get the results. Probably tomorrow, maybe Sunday. Sorry to be the one to tell you this, Ray. You gonna tell Edgar?’