“You slipped her a twenty?” is all I can think to say. I am flabbergasted.
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“Yes, I did, Catherine. I have learned some things working for you and one of them is that people are more willing to talk if you grease their palm.”
You go, Myrtle! When we stop at a light, I reach over and give her cheek a kiss. Then I put Nonna Rita’s most beloved piece of jewelry on my wrist and drive on.
Before I leave for home that night I call Adrian and tell him to make sure Natalie or another female member of his security team is with Jennifer at all times. I don’t tell him my suspicions concerning Edward; solid proof is needed before making an accusation.
“Okay Cate, I’ll tighten the detail. It’s getting close to her birthday, so this is a wise move.”
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The following morning I set my investigative skills on discovering everything I can about Edward Penn, something I failed to do when I met him. I could kick myself for not being more thorough. The first thing I have to do is check out Jennifer’s story about Edward being on the board of Wells and Cummings. Arriving with my Brooks-Warren file at Wells and Cummings, which is an austere building on Water Street, I feel out of place and totally under-dressed. Well-tailored suits and expensive outfits are worn by any and all who are entering the building. Even though my one concession to the corporate world was to wear a lilac Stella McCartney top, my jeans and sneakers make me stand out as “not one of them.” But who knows? Maybe that’s an advantage on my part.
The preliminary phone call I made to the brokerage house inquiring if an Edward Penn was a member of the board notwithstanding, I enter the foyer of Wells and Cummings on the twentieth floor, flash my ID, and ask to see someone who might know about Edward Penn. “This is a legal matter,” I tell the flustered young receptionist behind the front desk. Then comes the lie, which flows so easily from my lips, “The police have been informed concerning this matter.” Maybe not officially informed, but I did tell Will where I was going and that I just might say that bit about having informed the “police.” “Sure, no problem,” he said. “Just do not use my name since this isn’t one of my police cases. My captain would go after my badge if he thought that I was involved in something that is not official business for the precinct. Got it?”
“Yup, got it. I won’t use your name or badge number,” I answered. Not unless it’s absolutely necessary, I thought.
The receptionist disappears behind an inner sanctum of expensive doors for a few minutes. She returns with a member of the board, who ushers me into a spacious office with a commanding view of Water Street and its surroundings. “I’m Harlyn Vanders. How can I be of help?” says this well-dressed woman as she offers me a seat.
In a conversation that takes less than a half hour I find out that the Edward L. Penn on the board of Wells and Cummings isn’t the Edward Penn who is engaged to Jennifer Brooks-Warren. In fact the Wells and Cummings Edward Penn, a founding partner, has been dead for thirteen years. When I question why Mr. Penn’s name is still on the letterhead thirteen years after his demise, Harlyn Vanders smiles and answers, “It is customary to keep the founding partner’s name on company stationery, Ms. Harlow. It honors the member’s legacy and is a courtesy to his or her family who naturally still have stock in the company.”
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When I show her the picture of Edward with Jennifer she says he’s definitely not a member of the board and isn’t the Mr. Penn whose name is still on the brokerage letterhead. Their receptionist gave me the right info when she said an Edward Penn was on the letterhead; she just neglected to tell me the man bearing that name was dead.
“Any other way I can be of service to you?” She looks discreetly at the digital clock on her desk.
“Uh, no, thank you, Ms. Vanders. I have all the info I need.” On the way out of Wells and Cummings I call the bank where Jennifer has her account and make an appointment with her bank business manager.
๕๕๕
Leaving Water Street, I drive to the precinct close to Jennifer’s condo. Edward had said that he filed a report with the police before he and Jennifer came to seek the services of a private investigator and Jennifer believed him. So did I. He lied. When I get to the precinct where Edward said he had gone for help, I find out that no one knows anything about him or any report being made. “The only contact we ever received relating to this case came from you today, miss,” a weary-eyed desk sergeant tells me. “There’s no report about someone trying to murder this Jennifer Brooks-Warren and there’s no report filed by an Edward Penn. We never received a call to send officers to that building, either. Sorry.”
Edward has been lying all along about being in contact with the police. He never talked to the cops in the lobby of the condo building. I’ve been so focused on the Eliminator that I failed to notice anything else.
Walking to my car, I trip over a piece of broken sidewalk and drop the Brooks-Warren file, scattering all Myrtle’s neatly typed pages on the ground. I begin to gather them but an errant breeze scatters everything away from me. A kid handing out flyers bends down to help me and gallantly hands me the scattered papers and the manila file. I thank him with a smile and he winks at me, nodding to the bundle he has handed me.
Parked outside the precinct I begin to put the papers in order by date and notice something that wasn’t with the original sheets; a flyer advertising a Male Strippers Club has been placed between two file pages. I take it out and begin to crumple it when a thought hits me. This advertisement was easily placed inside the file without my noticing a thing. The kid wasn’t helping me as much as he was taking the opportunity to slip an advertisement in with my papers.
That note Jennifer received at her condo! “Have you made arrangements yet?” What had Edward said about finding the note? “Jennifer received a note from The Eliminator. It must have been left at the front desk of our high-rise last night. The manager gave it to me when I went down to get the paper.” But the manager never gave him the note at all. Edward had the note on him all the time!
The manager told me that he had handed the mail and a circular to Edward who had then dropped it all on the floor. Edward Penn bent down to retrieve the dropped papers and that’s when he had the opportunity to place the note in with the mail. After picking it all up, he deliberately held the envelope up so the manager could see it. Anyone would assume the note had been hidden in a circular and had fallen out when the mail was dropped. Of course! The
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question is, why? Is Jennifer’s fiancé somehow working with the Eliminator? Marc Croft did say
to me that he, himself, wasn’t into writing notes. Is Edward writing cryptic notes to terrify
Jennifer on his behalf? What exactly is going on here?
I glance at my watch. It’s time for me to drive to Jennifer’s bank and have that meeting with the business manager handling her affairs.
๕๕๕
Edward Penn is a devious son-of-a-bitch. I find out that he has tried withdrawing money from Jennifer’s account on numerous occasions. That the business manager is an astute man and wary of someone like Edward Penn is to his professional credit.
“Your credentials have checked out, Ms. Harlow,” says the manager, a sixtyish gentle man in charge of a section called Personal Wealth. “The recommendations of certain law enforcement agencies are also highly praiseworthy of you. You’re bonded and secure. This is why, as a fiduciary, I am willing to speak with you in so blunt a manner.” He adjusts his glasses and moves some papers around before he begins. I take out pen and notebook and wait expectantly. “A month ago, Mr. Edward Penn came in requesting to withdraw $100,000 from Ms. Jennifer-Brooks Warren’s account. Of course, we refused to do so. His name is not on the account even though he has tried several times to convince Ms. Brooks-Warren to have a joint account. He then requested a loan using the Brooks-Warren account as collateral. Said that his fiancée had given permis
sion in a written note. However, the signature purported to be Ms. Brooks-Warren’s was unverifiable. Of course we said no. Speaking to the account holder was an absolute necessity at that point but we were unable to speak with Ms. Brooks-Warren for confirmation at the time. He said that she was ill and unreachable. That naturally made us very suspicious of his request. I must tell you that he was very angry at not being able to get any money.” He looks at me for a long moment then leans forward. “Now, I don’t know if I should be telling you this. Please understand, Ms. Harlow, what I tell you must be kept in the utmost confidence until our investigation is completed but I feel this information may shed a new light on your case.”
“I understand and you can count on my confidentiality.”
“There’s an in-house investigation going on right now concerning one of our bank officers. It seems that he may have broken a fiduciary trust. I have good reason to believe that he may be involved with Mr. Penn in an illicit transaction.”
“May I ask in what way?”
“He seems to have been paid by Edward Penn to supply him with pertinent information about our customers. It is possible that this officer alerted Mr. Penn to Ms. Brooks-Warren’s substantial fortune which came from her father’s $1,200,000.00 life insurance policy. Unfortunately, during the course of our investigation, we are finding out that this is not the first time this man has given financial information to Mr. Penn. It seems that in the past, two other women who have accounts with our bank were in the same position as Ms. Brooks-Warren.”
“They were wealthy, too?” I continue to write down what he is telling me.
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“Not only well-off, but alone. No family, just completely alone, the same as Ms. Brooks- Warren. It seems that Mr. Penn is what my generation calls a shyster. He plays the concerned older man wanting to protect young women, tells them he’s worth a fortune but says he doesn’t like to discuss his wealth—that sort of thing. Of course, at some point in the relationship, there always seems to be a scheme where a man such as Mr. Penn says he needs ready cash for a deal of a lifetime but his assets are all tied up. Nine times out of ten, the woman will readily advance the cash to him and will never see him again.”
I nod. “He plays on their vulnerability and their kind hearts.”
“Exactly. A very sad state of affairs.” I get up, thanking him for his time and his honesty.
“I hope all goes well with your investigation, Ms. Harlow.”
“Yours too,” I shake his proffered hand and smile. “Nail the bastard, will you?”
“You nail that bastard Penn for me. Ms. Brooks-Warren deserves better.” And on that note I leave. I have all the info to confront Edward Penn and get Jennifer out of that condo into a place where she’ll be safe from both the Eliminator and Penn.
๕๕๕
It’s beginning a light drizzle as I leave the bank. Just before I get to my car, my phone beeps once alerting me to a text. The message I receive from the security company is brief. “Cate, this is Adrian. Received your text that the Eliminator has been apprehended. I’m confirming your message that our services are no longer needed and I’ve pulled my detail. Great work, Cate. Just to let you know, we still have not received any payment. Send me a message or call me about our bill.” Someone sent a text to Adrian telling him the Eliminator has been caught and to pull his security people off the job? That doesn’t sound good. Jennifer is unprotected and in danger.
I no sooner put my phone into my back jeans pocket than it beeps with another message. An e-mail from TRUST flashes an urgent message on my phone screen.
“Duchovny has no part in what is going down now - ur client in danger - there is another killer “
Another killer? Only one person comes to mind.
The devil himself, Edward Penn.
Chapter 23
EDWARD PENN doesn’t even flinch when I come into the room. The manager overrode the security code, which allowed me to take the private elevator directly to Edward’s condo when I told him I had reason to believe that Jennifer’s life was in immediate danger. I see wine in a beautiful cut crystal decanter on the table next to him. I feel as if I am in a 1930s movie; the apartment is so well appointed and classic with the main character, Edward, in an expensive-looking tracksuit and soft leather slippers, looking regal and relaxed. Everything is elegant. The only disconcerting and out-of-place items in the room are a pair of mud-encrusted work boots and heavy-duty work gloves tossed near the fireplace. He’s reclining on a new, expensive-looking leather couch. His right arm rests casually on an overstuffed pillow and in his hand is a silver handled Derringer. The irony isn’t lost on me that the Derringer was once called a ‘gentleman’s gun’.
“Where’s Jennifer?”
“Come in, Ms. Harlow. Please come in,” he says pointing the gun at me. “I see that you’ve managed to let yourself into my abode unannounced. Jennifer is not here at the moment. I myself have just returned from a rather unpleasant but very necessary...errand…and decided to have a glass of Petrus Pomerol, 1998. I understand that you like a good merlot. Pity that I can’t offer you any of this excellent vintage but I am in an indulgent mood and by that I mean that I feel like indulging myself.”
“Quite an expensive indulgence, Mr. Penn. About two thousand a bottle if I’m correct.”
“Ah, you know your wines, Ms. Harlow! Now how does a lowly private detective with a less-than-stellar income come to know about fine wines?”
“It’s a hobby. We lowly PIs have to have something to occupy our time when we’re not chasing scum like you.”
“Oh hardly scum, my dear lady. I have the best of everything and I live like a lord.”
“On money you scammed out of emotionally needy women. You paid that bank clerk to give you the names of single, wealthy women who had no family ties. I’m sure you have the same deal with other dirty, little sneaks whom you pay well at various banks and brokerage houses. You’ve been scamming women out of their money for years, haven’t you?”
“Guilty!” He laughs and takes another sip. “Little simpletons who need a man such as myself to help them learn how to spend their money.”
“But there’s one thing I don’t understand, Edward. I would count you as a basically use’em and then lose’em kind of Lothario. You get them to give you money for one scheme or another then leave them. Why did you want Jennifer killed?” He laughs heartily as if I’ve told him a hilarious joke.
“Ah, now you know my deepest secret! Yes, why indeed! I’ll tell you, dear Cate. You’re correct in saying that I get the money from wealthy women and then leave them high and dry. It’s a wonderful little scheme and has always worked well. But, sadly, it didn’t work with Jennifer. That needy little remade woman wasn’t as easy as my other targets. She held onto her money and doled it out a little too slowly for my taste. Maybe she inherited her old man’s parsimony. I fear I have rather expensive habits and I like ready cash, something my other women were more than willing to give me. But that plastic swan who used to be an ugly
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duckling actually was smarter than I thought. The only thing I was able to do was to get her to
make a will leaving everything to me; even that was a challenge.
“I thought that meeting Jennifer was heaven sent. Alone, no family, and when she told me about the contract on her life; what luck! I knew she was a perfect mark. If she was killed, no one would miss her. I could wait; the hit man was scheduled to strike on her birthday. The months leading up to her demise were rather tedious, though. For all that she said she was a whore in high school, sexually she was very naïve. No sexual adventures for her, none of the kinky things that I want done in a sexual encounter. Obviously she was only a quick, excuse my vulgarity here, but she was only a quick fuck for hormone-raging teenage boys. To make life a little more interesting while I waited, I started sending her little messages that she, and you, assumed were from the hit man. I had a copy made of t
hat old picture of her and sent it with the first note. What fun I had while I was waiting for her demise and making plans for my future!” He laughs cruelly.”But then, unfortunately, I found out that my nice little plans for the future were about to be changed, dear Cate. I heard from the man who was contracted to kill Jennifer.”
“If I may be so bold as to ask, how were you able to contact the hit man anyway? Jennifer and I had no luck with that whatsoever.”
“Oh,” laughs Edward when I confront him with that question, “that. Actually Jennifer was more successful than she thought. Her own ads and the social media pleas eventually paid off. He did contact her. I took the call when she was…sleeping. Of course, I made sure to take all her calls so that I would know all her financial business. When I answered the phone he said very abruptly, ‘This message is for Jennifer. Tell her the contract has been canceled, fee retained.’ I was stunned and suddenly angry. All these months waiting and waiting were wasted. He canceled the contract. Just like that. No fucking honor among thieves or murderers I guess.” Edward settles himself more comfortably before continuing.
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