Keeping Secrets

by Cathi Stoler

  Karen had found all this information hidden on a pen drive and accessed it easily. Unlike thieving and murder, covering his tracks was not Adams’s forte. Karen even found instructions on how to reach Mr. Santucci through his bank in New York, as well as correspondence from that bank regarding the project. Of course, it didn’t reference Suave Sal Santucci by name, or the purchasing of ATMs, or anything specific. Nothing that would hold up in a criminal prosecution. It was just a memorandum of intent, stating one of the bank’s clients would like to have more information about Mr. Adams’ proposal. After careful review, if said client were interested, the bank would be delighted to arrange a meeting to discuss the financing.

  Karen Kelleher had printed out everything she had found on David Adams’ pen drive. Her insurance policy. That hadn’t been far from the truth. The letter from the bank, along with all the other documents, was attached at the back of the interview.

  Laurel’s hands shook as she flipped through the pages and came to the very last one. She felt faint and disoriented. She made her eyes do what her heart didn’t want to, which was look down at the letter David Adams received from the New York bank. The letterhead of ZurichBank AG told her that her worst fears were true. There was the signature of the banker who wrote it, Matt Kuhn.

  Chapter 30

  Thursday, 12:00 p.m.

  Helen had never understood what was meant by the phrase “Time stood still.” Until now. She had heard the stories, like everyone else, of stock-still clarity and frozen movements in the midst of chaos. Even during the most dangerous situations of her career, she had never experienced the sensation firsthand. That was, until Joe walked into her kitchen, eyes blazing, gun in hand.

  Her heart stopped beating for the short time it took to recognize Joe behind the ominously gleaming Glock and take in what he was doing in her kitchen. For a few seconds, they all froze, unable to speak or move. Then in the next instant, it was like a Chinese fire drill, with Joe swinging his gun to cover Mike and walking toward Helen, Mike jumping out of his seat and knocking over his glass of water in his rush to protect her, and Helen screaming at Joe to drop the gun.

  “It’s okay. It’s Mike, not Suave Sal,” she repeated over and over, as she ran between the two men and grabbed Mike’s arm to stop him from jumping Joe.

  It took Joe another few beats to lower the gun and get himself under control. Helen saw the struggle going on between his body and his mind. It wasn’t a pretty sight watching Joe standing there sweating and breathing heavily, waiting for the adrenaline rush to subside, trying hard not to attack. Nor was it easy to hold back Mike, who still didn’t recognize Joe as Helen’s friend rather than an assassin he thought was about to shoot them.

  Her words tumbled over each other in a breathy rush as Helen tried to defuse the situation. “Mike. Joe. Jeez, what’s wrong with you two? Please, calm down. I’m fine. We’re fine. No one is in danger here.”

  She swallowed a huge gulp of air. “Joe, don’t you recognize Mike Imperiole, Laurel’s dad?” Helen could tell her words weren’t registering. He was still standing in an at-the-ready position. Helen was sure one wrong move on Mike’s part would set him off.

  She tried again, slower this time. “It’s okay, Joe. Really, no danger.” Still keeping her body between them, Helen moved closer to Joe, put her hand on his arm, and turned toward Mike, who had his hands balled into fists and his body in a fighter’s stance, ready to go at it. Oh my God. If this weren’t so serious, it’d be hilarious. “Mike, come on. You two obviously made a crazy mistake.” She squeezed Joe’s arm where she held it in a please-don’t-say-a-word gesture.

  “Danger? What the hell is going on? Why is he here? With a gun?” Mike jutted his chin in Joe’s direction and looked more confused than ever. “My God! This doesn’t have anything to do with Laurel, does it?” A trace of fear crept into his voice.

  Helen looked at his crestfallen face and didn’t know how to reply. She didn’t want him worrying any more than he already was. “Absolutely not.” She tried to meet his gaze but couldn’t make it past his mouth. “This is about a different matter entirely. Something Joe and I need to talk about in private.” Helen used her most conciliatory voice, praying it would work.

  Joe finally holstered his gun and shot her a look. “Talk? Oh yeah, we have to talk.” Sarcasm came through loud and clear as he snapped the flap on his holster closed. “I’ll wait in the study,” he stared pointedly at Mike, “until you can join me. Nice to see you again, Mike.” With a look over his shoulder, he left the kitchen.

  “Tell me what just happened here?” Mike asked. “Why did Joe come busting in like Wyatt Earp, and why are you in danger?” His words poured out in an angry torrent. “If this involves Laurel, I don’t know what—”

  “No. It doesn’t.” At least I hope not. “Joe and I are working on a tough case and some of the people involved are … well, they’re pretty nasty characters. Joe doesn’t know you that well. When he heard a strange voice, he just … overreacted.”

  Mike looked at her as if he wasn’t sure whether to believe her. Helen wasn’t surprised. Her explanation sounded far-fetched, even to herself.

  “Everything is fine with Laurel.” She looked at the creases etched into his brow and the furrows that ran alongside his mouth. She touched his face gently, wishing her fingers could smooth away some of his concern. “Please, go back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow night at dinner.”

  “All right. I’ll take your word for it. I trust you.” She walked him to her front door. As he stepped down her stairs, he looked back up, then turned toward Second Avenue.

  Helen smiled brightly and gave a little wave with her right hand. Her left arm was behind her back. Without realizing it, she had reverted to childhood and crossed her index and middle fingers in the age-old sign, which meant even if you were lying, it didn’t count.

  “Jesus. H. Christ!” Joe exploded the second she entered the study. “What the hell is going on?” Joe’s calm demeanor upon leaving the kitchen had been an act for Mike. He was obviously jumping out of his skin, waiting for her while she saw Mike off. Now he was moving restlessly between the desk and the window. “I got your message about the visitor you had this morning and rushed over ASAP. When I arrive, the front door is standing open, and I hear voices in the kitchen. So I take out my gun, creep up on the scene, and what do I find?” He stopped and pointed a finger in her face. “There you are, sitting at the table, all cozy with Mike.” He jabbed his finger closer. “Let me ask you again, what the hell is going on?”

  “All right, I get it. I’m sorry.” She swatted his hand away from her face. “I must have left the door open. It was stupid, especially after this morning. I don’t know what I was thinking, except that Mike arrived out of the blue and it just threw me.”

  He came to a standstill and perched on the edge of her desk.

  “He’s got an overprotective streak a mile wide. In some ways it’s actually kind of nice.” Helen smiled. Joe rolled his eyes. “Anyway, he’s worried about her involvement in that Pennsylvania case and wanted to talk. I didn’t know he was coming. The Imperioles have a way of arriving on your doorstep like an unexpected package from UPS. I was just about to leave when he showed up.” Helen shook her head.

  “And …” Joe prompted.

  She turned to face him. “And, after I reassured him about Laurel—well, at least he was reassured until you showed up—we discussed his birthday dinner tomorrow night at Provence Sud, where Mr. Matt Kuhn will be one of the honored guests.”

  “What?” The look on Joe’s face was incredulous. “For Christ’s sake, after what happened this morning, I hope you told him something came up and you couldn’t go.”

  Before Joe could protest further, she continued, “I’m going. It’s perfect. How could I say no? Mike’s been looking forward to this for a month. C’mon. It’s a great opportunity. We can set up surveillance ahead of time. It will give me a chance to find out what Matt’s all about, up close and per
sonal.” Helen was excited, moving around the room, planning the scenario. “We can get a leg up on the case.”

  “That’s if you still have any legs left,” Joe sneered. “Remember the reason I rushed over here? Your visitor? The DVD? The people on the DVD who seem to want to protect this banker scumbag?”

  Helen sank down into one of her easy chairs and let out a long sigh. “No, I didn’t forget. When I called you, I was shaking like a leaf and hoping I wasn’t putting you in danger.”

  No sooner were the words spoken than a look of horror spread across her face. She bolted out of the chair and pointed to the phone on her desk, mouthing the word “bug.”

  Joe shook his head no. “There isn’t one. I checked the phone while I was cooling my heels in here waiting for you. They probably didn’t have time to place any bugs. They don’t know about me. At least not yet. Which brings me back to the reason I came over. What the hell is going on?”

  Helen spent a few minutes filling Joe in on the details of Suave Sal’s visit and the very real, if unspoken, threats he made, leaving out the part about how scared and sick to her stomach it made her. She told Joe she packed the DVD into her tote bag and was just about to leave when Mike showed up. Her plan was to get Mike out of the house as soon as possible, take the DVD to the office, make a copy and meet with Joe so he could look at it firsthand and see where things stood. He knew the rest.

  “Well, we’ve got to give up the DVD,” Joe said.

  Helen looked at him with raised eyebrows.

  “I spoke with my friend in the mayor’s office and he can’t do anything unless he sees it,” he continued. “It goes too high up and he has to verify what I told him.”

  “Did you have to tell him how you were obtaining it?” Helen’s stomach roiled. “Or from whom?”

  “He didn’t press me on that point. For now. I’ve got to get it into his hands soon.”

  “He’s welcome to it, but what am I going to do about Mr. Salvatore Santucci?” Helen asked. “I don’t think anyone ever says no to him and lives. He’s expecting me to cave and give it back. If I don’t …”

  “I think it’s time for me to look at this home movie.”

  Helen left the study and returned a few moments later, clutching her tote bag to her chest. Placing it on her desk, she reached in and pulled out the video, holding it by the corner with two fingers.

  Joe laughed at the high drama. “It won’t bite you, not like its original owner.” He removed the offending object from her hand.

  With a thoroughness that marked him as a true professional, Joe carefully examined any evidence that came into his possession. He did that now, running his hands over the disk’s case before opening it and looking for anything unusual. He moved on to the DVD itself. Slipping it out, Joe pointed out a large logo stamped on the front. It was a circular mark, a holographic image, about the size of a silver dollar designed with the image of a serpent in the shape of an “S.” Helen hadn’t noticed the mark. “Maybe the Santucci family coat of arms? Talk about ego,” Helen said as Joe slid the DVD into the player in the study. He sat back, hit play, and sat mesmerized for the next three minutes.

  “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” Joe said. “Not that I didn’t believe you, but Christ, this is really big.” Joe was practically hyperventilating. Roaming around her study again, he thought out loud and spoke animatedly. “Okay, we’ll give the DVD back to Suave Sal and we’ll give him the original … just not yet.”

  “The original?” Helen asked. “Your guy in the mayor’s office won’t he want it?”

  “He’ll have to take a copy,” Joe said. “We can’t pull a switch on Sal, not with that hologram logo stamped into it. He’d know in a heartbeat and we’d be back at square one, or you’d be.” He stopped and looked at Helen. “There just might be a way around the whole thing.” She could tell Joe was on to something. He replayed the DVD and paused it near the beginning. He took out a pen and notepad and jotted down the date and time from the code across the bottom of the screen. He also drew a stick figure diagram of the positions of the people captured by the camera. He closed his pen with a satisfied click, turned and showed the drawing to Helen. “This is what we’re going to do.” He outlined his plan.

  An hour later, Helen sat in her office, waiting for Joe to return. She heard Maxine in the front talking softly into the phone as the steady hum of the traffic outside moved along Twenty-Third Street. These noises usually annoyed her, edged their way into her mind, and broke her concentration. Right now, she was grateful for their presence and found the normalcy of everyday rituals soothing.

  She was going to stay at Joe’s for a few days. Of course, she hadn’t shared this information with Mike. She could only imagine his reaction if he found out. She’d better make sure he didn’t.

  Joe organized their plan and checked with a guy he knew in another city office while she packed a bag including, against his advice, a very sexy outfit for Mike’s birthday the next day. They burned a copy of the DVD, which Joe took with him in case his idea didn’t pan out and he had to turn it over to the guy in the mayor’s office. The original was locked in Helen’s office safe, where it would remain for now. Joe also arranged for some of his people to set up surveillance outside Provence Sud’s restaurant in time for tomorrow’s dinner.

  Well, it seems everything is okay for the moment, she thought. Then she remembered her recent experiences. No, I can’t take anything for granted. Just look at Matt Kuhn. A handsome, upstanding New York banker with impeccable credentials and international connections. A man who was supposed to be in Siena a few days ago, but who, if that time code on the DVD I pinched was correct, was right here in New York City meeting with several other prominent New Yorkers.

  And, no wonder Sal was so hot to get the DVD back. Not only was it his insurance whatever deal he made would go on as planned, but it could also be his undoing. The Feds would have a field day. They’d finally have some hard evidence against him. Sal would never let that happen.

  This brought her thoughts full circle to what she was going to do about him. Maybe I can hide out for the next ten years or so. Hopefully, Sal Santucci will be dead by then. No, not the way my luck is running. Helen shook her head and wove her fingers through her hair. We’ll just have to go with Joe’s plan. She smiled to herself in spite of the situation. Leave it to him to come up with something like this. It’s totally crazy. I hope Joe’s friend in the mayor’s office really trusts him. But so far, it’s the only plan that makes sense. Don’t lie to yourself. It’s the only plan, period.

  The buzzer on her phone interrupted Helen’s thoughts. It was Maxine. “There’s a Mr. Santucci on line one for you.” Helen heard the usually unflappable Maxine gulping. “I think it’s,” she lowered her voice and whispered, “the, umm, Mafia Sal Santucci.”

  “It’s him all right,” Helen said.

  “Do you want to speak to him? Should I tell him you’re not here?” Maxine sounded worried.

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll take the call. Just tell him to hold for a minute.”

  Helen’s hands shook. What was the punishment for putting a Mafia Don on hold? A bullet to the kneecap? A broken dialing finger? Stop it. He’s not going to shoot you. At least not over the phone. Remember, we have a plan.

  Helen steadied herself and punched the button for line one. “Mr. Santucci. Sal.” She used her warmest fake cocktail party voice. “I was just going to call you. I think I’ve located the item you were looking for.”

  Chapter 31

  Thursday, 2:41 p.m.

  Laurel and Aaron worked straight through the early afternoon reviewing the file on David Adams. Detective Schnall’s team had amassed a huge amount of information in a very short time. The fingerprints they lifted from Anne’s car matched with David Adams’ “John Collier” alias, the one the records showed was his real name. The ViCAP computer spit out the details of a life gone wrong almost from the start. The man was a clever and charming sociopath who began with
petty scams and slowly edged his way up the criminal food chain to murder.

  Laurel was amazed at the lies and subterfuge he spun along the way. David Adams incorporated some of his real past to support the false identity he created. He was from a tiny town named Silver Lake outside of Topeka, Kansas, and he did have a background in finance. He worked in the town bank while attending Washburn University as a day student majoring in business.

  He never graduated and was asked to leave in his sophomore year after he was caught swapping sexual favors for grades with one of the female professors. A sexual predator from the beginning. Leaving town was next. David Adams, or John Collier as he was still known, departed in the middle of the night with the clothes on his back and $6,000 of the bank’s money in his pocket. No one in Silver Lake, including his parents, had heard from him since.

  The list of David’s crimes grew as he made his way eastward from Kansas, to Indiana, to Ohio, and finally to Pennsylvania.

  Laurel was tired. Her eyes stung and her back was stiff. She rolled her head around and stretched her shoulders. It didn’t alleviate her anger. Why hadn’t the police ever noticed him? If they had, maybe Anne would still be alive. Laurel shuddered. She noticed the room had darkened considerably and got up from the table. She walked toward the window of the tiny space and passed behind Aaron, who was flipping pages and making notes on a yellow pad.

  At the window, she reached for the string that opened the slats on the blinds and pulled it down to let in a little more light. The sky had turned from sunny and welcoming to dark and brooding, casting pockets of murkiness like power-deprived spotlights in the thickening gloom. Laurel shivered. Not a good sign.