Keeping Secrets

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Keeping Secrets Page 10

by Cathi Stoler


  Laurel sank back into the chair. “Sometimes people are too connected. Like John and my father, Aaron … and … me. It … complicates things.”

  “Let’s forget about Aaron for a moment.” Helen rose and moved to the desk where the bottle of wine sat. “There are some other things we need to discuss.” She pulled the cork and poured the golden Sonoma Cutrer Chardonnay into two glasses. “Namely, Matt Kuhn.”

  Laurel took a glass and sipped the smoky wine, then stared into its silky depths. “Have you found out something I should know?”

  “I need to know more about him and your relationship.” Helen avoided the question. “You said you met him through Jenna and that she refers to him as your Mystery Man. I also know something’s bothering you about him. That was evident when you were here yesterday, even before your father interrupted us. If I’m going to help you with your story, it’s time to tell me the truth.”

  Laurel took another sip of her wine and sighed. “You’re right. I’m worried and can’t put my finger on exactly what’s making me feel this way. It’s a lot of little things. I guess I should start at the beginning.”

  Helen settled back in her chair and reached for her notebook.

  “I met Matt when I was partying with Jenna. She and I were downtown at Don Hill’s, a bar in SoHo that specializes in eighties music. Her man of the moment had invited both of us and we danced, drank and had a great time. All of a sudden, Jenna went wild. She saw a guy she knew from Prague and started jabbering away in Czech. She introduced him to us as a long-lost friend from home, someone she went to school with. Malin Lakos.”

  Laurel paused and took another sip of her wine. “Malin told us he was there with a bunch of friends and we should all party together. Just then, Matt, one of his group, walked over.” Laurel stopped again, and this time she took a long drink of wine. “What can I say? I saw him, and it was lust at first sight. He was hot. I was getting over… Anyway, my body knew before my mind did. I wanted him.”

  Helen chuckled inwardly at the young woman’s discomfort, but kept silent.

  “I tried not to stare and kept looking away,” Laurel continued. “Then I gave up and turned to where he stood. He was gone. Vanished.” She snapped her fingers. “Into thin air. I asked Malin where Matt went, but he just shrugged. I thought, that’s that. I was wrong. The next day, a Saturday, Matt called me at home. He got my number from Malin who got it from Jenna. He wanted to get together and so did I. We’ve been seeing each other ever since.”

  “You met Matt through Jenna’s friends.” Helen looked up from her notes. “But she didn’t really know him, did she? Why does Jenna call him your Mystery Man?”

  “Jenna called Malin for me and asked a lot of questions about Matt. Malin thought it amusing that Jenna and I were so interested, but he didn’t know much about him. He met Matt that same evening, through some other Czech friends at the bar. Malin thought he went to school in Switzerland with one of them, but he wasn’t sure. After about five minutes of being grilled by Jenna, his patience ran out and he hung up.” She rolled her eyes and finished off her wine. “Since then, Jenna has dubbed him my Mystery Man, especially since he doesn’t really like to talk about his past.” Laurel shrugged. “I guess she’s right.”

  Laurel sat back in her chair and gazed into her now empty wineglass. “I’ve noticed it more and more over the last few months. He’s been on edge, going on last-minute business trips and getting a lot of calls late at night. He always leaves the room to take them. At first, I thought he was nervous because of work. Then I thought there might be another woman. He denied it, of course.” She spoke so softly Helen barely heard her. “I’m just not sure he’s the person I thought he was.”

  Laurel turned her gaze toward the window. “Maybe that’s why I decided to use him as the foil in my story. Maybe I need to prove to myself he is the man I think he is, the man I might be falling in love with.”

  Uh-oh. Love is always dangerous, Helen thought. In her most businesslike manner, she asked, “Has anything else happened, anything specific?”

  “One other thing really upset me, although I tried to brush it off.” Laurel’s eyes found Helen’s. Then she told her about Jenna’s encounter with the Italian bankers at the gallery opening—the ones who had never heard of Matt, even though he’d been doing business with their bank for years. Her fruitless efforts to find him in Siena plus her fleeting glimpse of the man in the mirror who was almost certainly Matt added up to a picture she didn’t like. She didn’t know what to believe. “What do you think?”

  Helen put her notebook aside, levered herself out of her chair and headed for the kitchen. “I think we’re going to need another bottle of wine.”

  Chapter 20

  Wednesday, 7:00 p.m.

  As Laurel poured out her misgivings and worries about Matt, Helen’s suspicions went from orange to red alert. Something fishy was going on and, upright Swiss banker or not, Matt was right in the middle. She’d wait, view the DVD she squirreled out of Matt’s apartment, then she and Laurel would have a “serious sit-down” as Suave Sal and the boys would say. Having Maxine’s report from LexisNexis as well as the records from the Social Security Administration and the BMW dealership would help, too.

  It didn’t take much finessing to change the subject to Anne Ellsworth’s disappearance and Laurel’s idea to go to Pennsylvania. It was definitely on Laurel’s radar, circling in midair along with the thoughts about Matt.

  Helen was able to convince Laurel to meet with Aaron over dinner at the townhouse and postpone her trip to Pennsylvania until after they talked. “No matter what your personal feelings are, you owe it to yourself, as a reporter, to listen to the man and answer his questions. He really knows his stuff about identity theft.” Then Helen called the precinct and asked Aaron to join them at 7:00. Surprisingly, he quickly acquiesced.

  Helen answered the door to his knock a short while later. “Where’s Laurel? What’s she doing here? How are you involved in all of this?” Aaron shrugged out of his sports jacket and handed it to her.

  “Why, hello, won’t you come in? I’m fine, thank you.” Helen smiled sweetly, ignoring Aaron’s combative tone and stony face as she guided him into the study.

  Laurel stood behind one of the big chairs, hands gripping its back, apparently using it as a protective buffer between herself and the detective.

  Referee Helen to the center of the ring. “Sit down and calm down. Both of you.” Helen’s voice was strident and loud, surprising herself and her visitors. To Laurel, she said, “You want to find Anne Ellsworth and write your story.” She nodded at Aaron. “You want to find the girl and the perp.” In a softer tone she offered, “Maybe we can satisfy you both, if we all work together.”

  While Laurel observed them, Helen and Aaron reviewed the facts of Anne’s disappearance over dinner. He appeared to share all the information he received from the Doylestown PD, holding up his hand to quiet Laurel before they got into fight about who should be doing what. Helen filled him in on her end about the computer searches she had Maxine working on and the identity theft questions regarding David Adams she planned to ask him to research at his Thirteenth Precinct headquarters.

  “I’ll run all his aliases through NCIC, the National Crime Information Center, first thing tomorrow,” Aaron said. “I wanted to do it today, but I was busy chasing after the facts.” Helen couldn’t miss the touch of sarcasm directed at Laurel. “When I sent the Doylestown PD the aliases Laurel gave me this morning, I told them we’d do that here. We’ve got more manpower. We could have been on it sooner, if we’d known about the aliases when you did.” His eyes never left Laurel’s. “The Pennsylvania force is checking the Ellsworth woman’s note for prints and they’ll let me know if they get a match with any of David Adams’ AKAs.”

  Notes and papers relating to the case littered the kitchen table, vying for space amid cartons of Chinese food. Using his chopsticks as a spear, Aaron stabbed the air in Laurel’s direction. “What we
re you playing at? Why didn’t you let Pennsylvania know about the emails and aliases? Trying to be Nancy Drew, girl detective, again, huh? What about the missing woman?” His anger was apparent in his words and his bright gray eyes had gone dull.

  Helen could see Laurel was close to losing her temper, too. “Lighten up. Laurel did what she thought was right. She called me.”

  “Yeah, well that’s another thing.” He turned in his chair and faced Laurel straight on. “I knew you were holding back this morning. Why didn’t you tell me you hired Helen?”

  Seeming to tamp down her temper, Laurel responded coolly, “It’s more complicated …” She caught sight of Helen shaking her head subtly in a don’t go there warning.

  Aaron caught the end of Helen’s movement and looked back and forth between the two women. “Okay, what’s going on here?”

  Helen didn’t think it was the right time to tell him about Matt Kuhn, especially given the DVD in her wall safe upstairs. “Nothing. We’re just trying to figure things out. We haven’t gotten very far and we need your help. Don’t be angry. Let’s try to work together.” She sat back in her chair, waiting for the detective to respond.

  “Yeah, right. You want me to cooperate but what do I get in return? Bupkis. Absolutely nothing.” He pointed his chopsticks in the air toward Laurel again. “Call me crazy, but I know from experience how you work. I don’t consider that cooperating. You want to get on this together? Fine. You better tell me right now if there’s anything else I should know.”

  Laurel, who had developed a sudden fascination with the moo-shu pork on her plate, replied in a quiet voice, “I’m planning to leave for Doylestown tonight to look into Anne’s case on my own.”

  The atmosphere in the room was like the last few seconds before a bomb detonates—too quiet and too calm with each object standing out in clear relief, waiting for the moment of impact. To give him credit, Aaron didn’t leap out of his chair and strangle Laurel straightaway. He just stared at her bent head until the total silence in the room forced her to meet his gaze. In a hard, steady voice he said, “I don’t think you should do that. It won’t help Anne.”

  “I think it will help.” Laurel raised her eyes to his, defensively.

  “You’re wrong. Doylestown PD won’t tell you anything. They can’t. First of all, you’re involved in this thing. They may even be looking at you as a suspect, David Adams’s accomplice, a kidnapper, or worse.”

  “That’s crazy,” Laurel said. “Anne wrote to me asking for my help. And I … I … think David Adams may have threatened me, as well.”

  Helen stared at Laurel in disbelief. Why wouldn’t her friend have told Aaron about the email telling her to mind her own business?

  “I knew it!” Aaron was ripping mad again. “Was it an email from Adams, too? What the hell is wrong with you? And you?” His anger encompassed Helen. “You knew about this, didn’t you?

  “We were going to tell you. I swear.” Helen held up her hand before he could reply and looked over at Laurel. “Give Aaron the other email.”

  Laurel produced it from her purse and handed it to him. Aaron scanned it quickly and shook his head, eyes bright with fury. “You’re up to your old tricks again, aren’t you? Doing whatever you please. Do you think you can conduct a search for a missing person on your own? I should bring you in for obstructing my investigation.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing. I’m trying to help,” Laurel insisted, lifting her hands to the sky in protest.

  Aaron ignored her outcry. “Furthermore, you’re a reporter.” He spat out the word like it was leaving a terrible taste in his mouth. “It’s a bad combination. Believe me, if you go to Doylestown, you won’t find out anything you want to know. That’s how it is.” He sat back and slammed his hand down on the table.

  “I would if you came with me.” Her voice softened. Aaron sat back in his chair and gazed at Laurel. Her big brown eyes pleaded enticingly from under lowered lashes. From the look on his face, Helen imagined Laurel’s quickly put-together woman-in-need strategy was working, bypassing Aaron’s brain and going straight to his lower region. His heart might not have forgiven her for her betrayal—as he saw it—but his body hadn’t forgotten her, either. Besides, Helen knew Aaron well enough to see that he wanted in.

  Well, well. Helen regarded Laurel with a newfound respect. Aaron certainly didn’t see that coming. Neither did I.

  “Not a chance,” Aaron said.

  Helen bit her tongue to keep from smiling as she watched Aaron, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as though he found it hard to get the words out.

  “I know what you think.” Laurel’s voice was tight. “You made it perfectly clear. I’ve got to try and make things right. I did what I could to protect Anne, but it wasn’t enough. Aaron, I’m going with or without you. But I know it would be better if you came with me.”

  Helen swiveled her head back and forth between the two of them, noting that this was the first time Laurel had used his name all night. Aaron visibly wavered. “Who’s your contact in the Doylestown PD?” Helen asked.

  “I’ve been talking to one of their senior detectives, Norm Schnall,” Aaron said, looking away from Laurel. “We’ve worked a few other cases together in the past. He’s a pretty good guy. Okay. Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Pulling out his cellphone and tapping in a number, Aaron rose from the table. “I’ll talk to Norm. But,” he addressed the two women, “you’ve got to understand that officially I have no jurisdiction in Pennsylvania, even though they called me in to interview Laurel.”

  Aaron moved into the hallway to place his call while Helen and Laurel waited silently. After a few minutes of muffled conversation, he returned to the kitchen. “Okay, they’ll talk to you.” He nodded to Laurel, “But this is how it’s going to play out.”

  Aaron set a few ground rules, which Helen realized were more or less his way of trying to maintain control. He and Laurel would leave in the morning, rather than this evening, after he briefed his detectives and did the NCIC search. They would take Laurel’s rental car. Once they arrived in Pennsylvania, the Doylestown PD would have an opportunity to interview Laurel with him present. They would spend just the day in Doylestown and return to New York in the evening, which meant that Laurel would have to cancel her reservation at the Doylestown Manor. Most importantly, Laurel would have to follow his lead and let him do the talking. He was calling in a favor and he wanted her to understand who was in charge.

  Helen refrained from rolling her eyes at this last bit. It would be so unprofessional of her and besides, Aaron would probably catch her doing it.

  Laurel agreed to all of his requests. Why wouldn’t she? She’d won, had turned a foe into an ally—at least temporarily—and on her own terms.

  Poor Aaron, Helen thought as she straightened up in the kitchen after having ushered out her guests. As a detective he was a genuine whiz. As a man, he didn’t have a clue.

  Chapter 21

  Thursday, 12:03 a.m.

  Helen viewed the DVD over and over for a full hour and still didn’t quite know what to make of it. She had imagined that Matt Kuhn, secretive Swiss banker, might be involved in something shady, but not this shady.

  The cast of characters was mind-boggling and the action, while not fast-paced, certainly produced an adrenaline rush. Helen had watched the DVD several times to make certain she wasn’t mistaken about its content or the faces that took center stage.

  Surprisingly, the quality was excellent, which, depending on one’s point of view, could be good or bad. From Helen’s perspective, it was great. Shot in a quiet corner of Madison Square Park, it showed the principal actors in clear, natural light. There was Suave Sal, silver hair gleaming in the sun, Matt Kuhn, not hiding his face for once, and one other participant.

  Helen shook her head as the third man appeared onscreen once again, remembering her initial shock at seeing him on the DVD. She had no trouble identifying him as the camera moved in for a close-up
as he tucked the nice, fat envelope from Sal into his breast pocket. Stuart Roth was the Deputy Superintendent of Banks. A high-ranking member of the New York City Banking Commission, he was in charge of its Consumer Services Division. It was a powerful position with make-or-break domination over New York’s affluent wheeler-dealers who wanted a shot at the banking industry. With its distinguished profile, his was a face favored by the media, and no one in the city would have any trouble recognizing him, either. Helen shuddered. If this video ever got on the news, the shock waves would reverberate from Wall Street to Gracie Mansion.

  The saying “too much information” popped into her head. What do I do with this? I can’t keep it to myself and, given what the DVD contains and how I obtained it, I can’t share it with anyone—especially the police. I’ve really put myself in the middle of things this time. Her mind went into worst-case-scenario mode, offering up a myriad of visions of mayhem with one image in common: a fleet of long, black limos with Jersey plates stalking her like an army of ants setting upon the food spread out on a checkered tablecloth at a picnic. She gulped. I could get myself killed over this.

  Helen stopped the DVD, hit the eject button and carefully placed it back in its case. She put it in her safe once again and spun the tumblers closed. Who can I trust enough to reveal what’s on this DVD? Only one person came to mind.

  Looking at her bedside clock, she hesitated for only a moment before picking up the phone. He was probably sleeping like a baby. Too bad she had to interrupt his pleasant dreams with a nightmare.

  Chapter 22

  Thursday, 7:59 a.m.

 

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