Keeping Secrets

by Cathi Stoler

  She hadn’t noticed the car glide up, either. A silver Lexus in Manhattan was just part of the scenery. They were a dime a dozen in any neighborhood. I should have noticed it anyway. Talking to Joe and receiving the promise of his help had made her complacent. She had relaxed her vigilance. No one knew better than she did how stupid that was, especially after all that had been going on. She hoped the big man holding onto her couldn’t feel her pulse going wild. I have to stay calm and in control. Be Helen, the hard-boiled PI, not Helen, the scared woman. “Nice speech.” She went for cool sarcasm. “Did you practice it all morning?” He squeezed her arm just a little tighter.

  As they approached the car, the door opened and sunlight glinted off the carefully coifed hair of Suave Sal Santucci, who peered out of its backseat, looking toward her.

  Trying not to show the fear twisting her stomach into knots, Helen faced the man holding her. “Get your hand off my arm,” she demanded with such authority he let her go. She took a deep breath and turned toward her house, mustering more self-control than she actually possessed. “If Mr. Santucci would like to speak with me, he can do it inside.” If there was to be a battle, she’d wage it on her turf. She walked up the stairs, tensing her whole body and waiting for the soft pffftt of the silenced bullet she was sure would enter her back momentarily. When Helen unlocked the door and was still alive and breathing, she permitted herself a small sigh of relief and tried to push away the images of death that flashed before her eyes.

  Helen stood in front of her door and turned toward the Lexus at the curb, waiting. A few moments later, Suave Sal’s silvery head emerged, followed by the rest of his body. His appearance certainly lived up to his well-known nickname. He paused for a moment, probably to make sure Helen got a good look at him, then smoothed down the front of his custom-tailored charcoal gray Giorgio Armani suit and shot the cuffs of his hand-sewn Turnbull and Asher pearl gray shirt, revealing solid gold initial cufflinks. His tie and pocket handkerchief were blood red. She had read enough about his wardrobe in the papers to know the designers he favored. Power dressing to die for. Helen took in his sartorial splendor, then instantly wished she hadn’t brought the thought of death back into the scenario.

  All this registered in the few moments it took Suave Sal to make his way toward her and the open doorway of the brownstone beyond. His face showed satisfaction at Helen’s appraisal. His black eyes beamed with a glint of pleasure and his mouth turned up at the corners, causing the small mole on the right side to twitch. Helen stood there waiting, staring at him, her hand on the door, holding it open.

  “Helen,” he extended his hand. “I may call you Helen, I hope?” She was loath to take his hand, afraid that if she shook it, he’d feel the tremors of fear caroming through her body.

  “Only if I may call you Sal.” She took the offered hand, thinking that, like the great Green Bay Packer football coach, Vince Lombardi, the best defense was a great offense. She’d rather go out like a hero than a wimp.

  Helen gestured toward the interior of the brownstone and Suave Sal entered. She went to close the door behind him and her movement was blocked by one of the beefy bodyguards who had planted himself firmly in the way. At about five foot ten and two hundred twenty pounds, he filled the door. Helen looked at him coldly, but he wouldn’t budge. It was only after an almost imperceptible nod from Sal that he moved back, turned toward the street and stood at attention at the top of the staircase like one of the Queen’s Royal Guards outside Buckingham Palace.

  “You have a lovely home.” Sal nodded as he looked around the entryway. “I’m sure you enjoy it very much.” Helen heard the slightest touch of irony in his words.

  How civilized he pretends to be. Even his veiled threats are smooth. “Please come into the study.”

  They walked farther into the hall. Helen started to toss her keys into the bowl on her hall table and noticed it was now on the left side. Her heart began to race and she willed herself to stave off the panic attack. They had been in her home while she was out. No wonder Sal Santucci gave in so easily. He knew she wasn’t bugged or rigged for video. Hoping not to give her revelation away, she placed the keys in the bowl as normally as possible and smiled up at him. “Can I get you anything?” She hoped her expression betrayed nothing of her fear. “Coffee? Tea?” A dagger through the heart? She fought hard to control her emotions.

  “No, thank you. I won’t be staying long enough.” His voice, bright and almost playful, belied the look in his black eyes, which was cold, hard, and murderous. Helen sensed he was having as much trouble staying in control as she was. Her stomach turned over again.

  Helen moved toward her desk, but Sal gestured to the facing easy chairs under the window. Shit. She moved in that direction. She wanted the desk because of the panic button she had installed under its top. All she had to do was push the button to send a silent signal to the alarm company. She had the button installed after a really tough case in which she nearly became a hostage in her own home. Knowing it was there, like was one of the reasons she insisted on meeting in her home instead of his car. Now she wasn’t anywhere near it. His boys had done a good job; they had found the button.

  “Helen.” Sal raised both hands toward the ceiling as he took the chair opposite hers, crossed his legs, then smoothed out his pants creases, settling in as though this were his own living room. “I felt it was time we met. I’ve heard about your work from several people and they tell me you’re very good at what you do.”

  Not good enough to avoid this.

  Sal took his time, looking around the room and nodding his head. Helen was sure he savored her discomfort and enjoyed watching her squirm. All she could do was wait him out. He reached into his breast pocket and she flinched. Then slowly and carefully he removed a cigar, which he twirled between his fingers. He ran the cigar under his nose, sniffing its rich, dark wrapping with pleasure. “Just one of my small vices.” He waved the cigar toward her. “I get all of my cigars at Imperiole Cigars up on Madison. I imagine you’ve heard of them.” He didn’t appear to expect an answer.

  Helen tasted the fear rising from her stomach, her composure slipping a little further. Was this idle chatter or another subtle threat? What did he know about Laurel? Thank God she was with Aaron and not anywhere nearby.

  He sniffed the cigar one last time and putting it back in his jacket. “I stopped by to offer you an assignment. Some property of mine recently disappeared from the premises of a friend who was holding it for me. It could be a real problem for me if I don’t get it back. I wouldn’t want it to get into the wrong hands, if you know what I mean. That would create a very embarrassing situation for several people.” He raised his smoldering black eyes to hers.

  Helen’s mouth was dry and she cleared her throat. “I’m very flattered you thought of me, but I have a full caseload right now and couldn’t take on anything else.” Helen didn’t ask who recommended her. Somehow, he had found out about the break-in and knew she took the DVD. He must be connected every way you looked and probably had someone passing him the info he needed. The only reason she was still alive, sitting here pretending to be listening to this bastard’s made-up bullshit, was that he believed she had passed the DVD off to someone else by now. They must not have found her safe. Swallowing hard, Helen willed herself not to look upward toward her bedroom and the hot cargo in her safe.

  Sal sighed heavily. “I don’t think you understand. You’re just the person I need to locate this property. It’s very important to me. Perhaps even a matter of life and death.”

  Sal rose from his chair and, for a moment, all Helen could manage to do was stare at him. She rose as well. “Mr. Santucci … Sal.” There was now just a foot separating them.

  He put up a hand to silence her. “Please think it over. I’m sure it would be in your best interests to do this for me.” He reached over and patted her hand. Her skin crawled. “Don’t decide now. Think about what it would mean to me. I’ll be in touch later today.”


  He left the study without another word, moved back through the hall to the front door, and opened it. As he walked out into the bright day, he turned and smiled at Helen, then unhurriedly closed the door behind him.

  As soon as she heard the lock automatically click into place, Helen began to shake uncontrollably. He threatened my life; there’s no doubt about it. Sal Santucci knew everything. He was giving her a chance to “make good” as he would say … and stay alive. Her stomach heaved and Helen ran for the bathroom. All she could see was the menacing look in his bottomless black eyes and that small black mole on the right side of his mouth that twitched with pleasure every time he said her name.

  Chapter 27

  Thursday, 10:50 a.m.

  Laurel sat across from Aaron and Detective Schnall in the booth at the diner. The light slanting in from the big front window made tilted stripes across the table and on the faces of the men opposite her. She traced her finger along the pale wood, following the outline of light against dark and thought of caged zoo animals looking out at the world in striped sections, never seeing the whole picture clearly. Were Matt and David Adams doing business together at the bank? It hardly seemed likely, but Laurel didn’t know. It had to be a coincidence. A shudder went through her body at the thought that they could be connected.

  The only way to find out the truth would be to talk to Matt face-to-face, and that would have to wait until she was back in the city. If she tried to contact him now, she ran the risk of Aaron catching her and wanting to know what she was up to.

  She also had to talk to Jenna. Her message really shook Laurel. What had Malin told Jenna about Matt? The sooner she could find out the better. With Aaron sitting right across the table from her, she had to bluff it out for now.

  Aaron’s eyes were on Laurel. “What do you make of that John Collier account at ZurichBank AG?” He emphasized the name of the bank. Laurel swallowed hard and tried to keep her face from showing her fear. Had her strange behavior led Aaron to a connection he wouldn’t otherwise have made?

  Norm lifted his shaggy eyebrows. “We’re not sure yet. He could be setting up for almost anything, including skipping the country. We think he had help from one of the people he worked with, a woman named Karen Kelleher. She’s the office manager at the company, and he probably charmed her, as well.” Norm checked his watch. “One of my men is questioning her right now. We’ll see what he got from her when we get back to the station.”

  Aaron nodded in agreement. “Scam artists like David Adams are usually adept at duping several women at once. Some women want love and affection so badly they fall for the sweet talk and once they’ve got it, they’ll do almost anything to keep it going.” He looked at Laurel.

  She ignored him and cleared her throat. “Detective Schnall, do you think we could see the apartment where Anne and David lived?”

  “Yes,” Norm said. “We’re treating it as a possible crime scene, but I thought Aaron might want to check it out.” He narrowed his eyes at Laurel. “Is there a reason you want to see it?”

  Laurel hesitated. “I hoped it would give me a better insight into Anne, who she was, the things she liked. You know …”

  “Well, not much is left in the place,” Norm said. “This David Adams, or whoever he is, cleaned it out pretty good. There’s some old furniture in the living room and bedroom, but that’s about it.” The detective shifted his bulk in the booth. “We think Anne Ellsworth had most of her personal things with her when she disappeared.” He checked his watch again and made a decision. “Yeah, we can stop there before we head to the station. It’s just a few blocks away. Let me get our check first.”

  Laurel blanched at the detective’s use of the word “disappeared.” Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed, or pretended not to, but Aaron had. His eyes bore into hers.

  “If you want to go all weepy with Norm Schnall, that’s fine.” He gestured with his chin to the quiet, sunny day on the other side of the window. “That won’t work on me. You will tell me the whole truth, and soon.”

  Detective Schnall finished bantering with his diner friends and waited for Laurel and Aaron to join him at the door. “David Adams’ place is over on Broad Street, in a small garden apartment complex.” He shrugged. “From what we’ve gathered, it’s the usual story. Kept to himself, paid his rent on time, never caused any trouble. The neighbors who saw him coming and going thought he was a nice enough guy. They had no idea he moved out. No one saw or heard the moving truck.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Aaron conceded. “Guys like him are good at covering their tracks, getting in and out quickly. I’m sure he had a plausible story ready if anyone asked what was happening.”

  “What about Anne? What did the neighbors think of her?” asked Laurel.

  Norm seemed to consider before answering. “Most of them told me they hardly ever heard her in the apartment. In fact, a few of the folks didn’t even know a woman lived there.” He gazed down at Laurel. “I’m getting the distinct impression Anne did everything she could to remain unnoticed.” He shook his head. “I think she was just scared of life in general. Then, she met David Adams and believed it was going to get better. Unfortunately, it only got worse.”

  Laurel swallowed hard. This was going to end badly no matter how much she wished it wouldn’t. She sneaked a look at Aaron, who seemed to be lost in thought again, and hoped she wasn’t the object of his ruminations. The three of them drove to the apartment complex in a squad car, Aaron and Norm chatting in the front and Laurel sitting in the back.

  When they arrived and stepped out of the car, Detective Schnall pointed toward a path on their left. “This is the place.” As they approached, a doorway striped with bright yellow crime scene tape came into view, along with a police sign warning people to keep out. He broke the tape in one swift motion, then unlocked the door with a key from his pocket. Pushing open the door, he gestured for them to step inside. “Adams had the electricity turned off, so we’ll leave the door open to give us a little light.”

  The detective’s cellphone rang. “Give me a minute,” he said and walked off a little ways. When he was done, he rejoined them in the entryway to the apartment.

  When he didn’t enter, she asked, “Everything okay? Can we look around?”

  “Why don’t you go ahead? There are a few things I need to go over with Aaron” He gestured toward the path in front of the apartment. “We’ll be right back.”

  Laurel entered slowly, her eyes adjusting to the gloom in the tiny apartment. A small amount of light from the door behind her revealed a narrow entryway. She moved through and entered a combination living room and dining room. The detective was right. The only things left were a few pieces of worn furniture scattered on dingy beige wall-to-wall carpet. Laurel noticed a few colorful framed prints hanging crookedly on the wall. The police activity had probably disturbed them. The blinds were left open and their slats were making their own slanted stripes on the scarred furniture and carpeting. Like prison bars. Had Anne ever noticed the pattern or felt she was a captive in her own life?

  Laurel steadied herself by the closed door at the end of the hallway. It had to be the entrance to the bedroom. Placing her fingertips on the wood, she pushed gently and the door opened. This room was sparsely furnished as well, and was as desolate and abandoned as the rest of the apartment. The one closet was open, and a wire hanger left behind on its bar swung back and forth in the breeze caused by Laurel’s entrance.

  Laurel walked to the closet and stopped the hanger’s swaying. Just as she was leaving, her eye caught the glint of something shiny wedged between the floorboards and the wall. She bent down for a closer look and saw it was a tiny bit of a gold chain. Carefully working her fingers under the floor to loosen it, she freed the chain and held a small gold heart pendant in her hand.

  Laurel heard Aaron and Detective Schnall call her name. Instinctively she wrapped her hand around the pendant and chain to conceal it, stuck her hands in her pockets and walked into the
living room to meet them. Was it Anne’s? Had she searched frantically when she realized it was lost?

  The two men reached her and looked at her somberly. “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” said Detective Schnall. Aaron walked to her side and took her arm as the detective spoke. “Anne Ellsworth has just been found.” He paused for a moment. “There’s no easy way to say this. She’s dead.”

  The gold necklace, which once shimmered with life from the warmth of Anne’s skin, went icy cold in Laurel’s hand. “Oh, God, I knew it,” she cried out, looking at Aaron and clutching the pendant so tightly it left a heart-shaped mark deep in her palm.

  Chapter 28

  Thursday, 11:00 a.m.

  Helen sat on the bathroom floor, resting her head on the bathtub’s rim, welcoming the feel of the cool, smooth porcelain on her skin. She had finally stopped shaking and throwing up. She still couldn’t rouse herself enough to leave the haven of her bathroom. As if a measly bathroom lock could stop Suave Sal from getting to me if he wanted to.

  She got up and quietly unlocked the door. She tensed as if a psychopath with a knife from one of those teen horror flicks was lurking behind it, waiting to pounce. Taking a deep breath, she peeked around its frame and into the calm and peace of her bedroom. Get a grip, girl. He’s gone and he’s not coming back, at least not right away. Still, his presence hovered around her.

  “Oh, God.” She sat down on the edge of her bed. C’mon, Helen, focus on what you need to do. This case was a mess and she had no one to blame but herself. Having Sal Santucci on her tail was definitely one of the worst things that could happen. Scratch that. The absolute worst.

  How did he find out she had the DVD? She was sure she had entered the loft undetected. There was video surveillance; she had looked for it. Only she and Joe knew she grabbed it and he’d rather die than tell. Her mind reviewed the possibilities and settled uneasily on Laurel. She hoped Laurel took her advice and hadn’t confided in Aaron about searching into Matt Kuhn’s background. She had to talk to Laurel and somehow explain the danger that was threatening to erupt all around them. How could Helen warn her without revealing her growing suspicions about Matt? She didn’t want the information to provoke Laurel into doing something they might both regret.