Keeping Secrets

by Cathi Stoler

  “Wake up,” she whispered, as he began to stir. “I need to tell you something … and what I’m going to do about it.”

  Chapter 36

  Friday, 1:30 a.m.

  Helen knew that anyone watching her behavior might conclude it was certifiably crazy. Certainly Joe wouldn’t argue with that. He had told her she was nuts to be going out in the middle of the night just to deliver an envelope to someone who wasn’t even home.

  Helen pulled the collar of her jacket up around her neck. The evening, or early morning actually, had turned cold and whirlwinds traveled down the deserted street, swooping up discarded papers and fallen leaves. She sighed. One of these days, she had to learn to control her impulses. Maybe after this case was over. Right now, she was on a roll—if running all over town like a nut job and avoiding the mob while trying to solve a case counted as being on a roll.

  Helen exited the cab in front of Laurel’s apartment building on East Sixty-Sixth Street with the aforementioned envelope tucked under her arm, thinking about just what she was going to tell the doorman so he wouldn’t think she was some sort of terrorist sneaking in to deliver a letter bomb to one of the tenants in the dark of night.

  She’d left voicemail messages for both Laurel and Aaron but hadn’t heard back from either. It was frustrating, especially since she desperately wanted to speak with Laurel and relate everything she learned about that bastard, Matt Kuhn. The problem was it had all become just a little bit too tricky, since Aaron had no idea about Matt being part of the investigation. Unless, of course, Laurel disregarded Helen’s advice to wait until she had the lowdown on Matt and told him everything. Aaron could be very persuasive, as Laurel well knew, when he was after something or someone.

  Could Laurel resist the subtle pressure Aaron could apply? Helen had a sneaking suspicion that Laurel, who was not as tough as she wanted people to believe, would find it nearly impossible not to give in to her former lover and blurt out what he wanted to know. If this was the case, Helen was definitely going to get an earful from Aaron when he returned to the city. He’ll be truly pissed, if only because I encouraged Laurel to mislead him.

  Helen could only hope for the best and pray Laurel wouldn’t cave in under pressure. The thought brought a smile to her face as she remembered her earlier suspicion when she couldn’t reach either of them on the phone. What was I thinking? They’re probably ready to kill each other by now.

  In the meantime, here I am outside again in the middle of the night when I could be home in bed, well, in Joe’s bed, sleeping. The thought of Joe waiting in his apartment caused another unsettling thought to flit across her already overloaded brain. Her mind told her it was safer to stay at his place, but her emotions told her it really might not be such a great idea. They were very close for a long time and were still best friends. Helen didn’t want to jeopardize their relationship in any way. Being back at his place, in his bed—only technically, since he was sleeping on the couch—made her remember how nice it was to cuddle with him, then wake up to him bringing her a steaming espresso in the morning. Given the current situation and her budding feelings for Mike Imperiole, that just made everything even more confusing. And if Mike found out he’d be hurt. She didn’t want that to happen. Better get this over with, instead of standing out here worrying about my so-called love life.

  As Helen moved toward the building’s entrance, she nearly collided with a man. “Sorry.” He stepped back unsteadily and allowed Helen to enter first.

  “S’not a problem,” he hiccupped in her direction.

  “Hope I didn’t mess up your pizza.” Helen nodded toward the Original Ray’s Take-Out Pizza box. He grunted a nearly inaudible reply and she turned back to look at him over her shoulder. He was gently bobbing and weaving in place, the pizza box tilting back and forth like a boat at anchor. A typical thirty-something New Yorker who had one shot too many of tequila, dressed for a big night on the town as well, in his baggy jeans, baseball cap pulled down over his face, and those sunglasses. Oh yeah, bet whoever he’s bringing that pizza to can’t wait for him to get there. He must be a friend of someone in the building.

  “S’okay.” He nodded at her, keeping his voice low and his head bent downward. She noticed a patch of white skin on the back of his hand. A scar of some kind. A burn mark, perhaps? He continued to move back and forth, matching the motion of the box in his hands, waiting behind Helen for his turn to speak with the doorman stationed at the building’s entrance.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” The young night doorman nodded to the man behind her, indicating he’d be right with him.

  “Hi. I’d like to leave this envelope for Laurel Imperiole. I know she’s out of town but please see she gets it as soon as she returns.” Helen handed over her package. “It’s important.” Helen hoped she sounded professional and in charge, rather than like some type-A personality who couldn’t wait till a normal hour to get the job done.

  “No problem.” The doorman moved away from the door and walked to the desk in the center of the lobby. “May I have your name, please?” He bent down to record the receipt of the envelope in a small computer sitting on the desktop. “So I can tell Ms. Imperiole who dropped this off?”

  “Tell her it’s from Helen McCorkendale. Thanks.”

  Helen turned to go and smiled at the person she now thought of as Pizza Man, who was still wobbling at the front door, waiting for the doorman to get to him and call up to whoever he was visiting. “Hope you enjoy your pizza while it’s hot.” She walked past him and out of the building.

  Helen paused for a minute, thinking about pizza. I didn’t know the pizza place stayed open this late. A slice would hit the spot. She turned toward First Avenue and the Ray’s Pizza a few blocks away. She walked to the corner, then reconsidered, stopping to check her watch. I should get back to Joe’s. If he’s still awake, he’ll be worried. If he’s asleep and I call to tell him I’ll be even later because I’m getting pizza, he’ll kill me.

  Helen turned, retraced her steps on Sixty-Sixth Street and headed toward Second Avenue, where she could hail a cab downtown. As she passed Laurel’s apartment building, she looked into the lobby. Pizza Man was gone, probably sitting in a friend’s apartment scarfing down a nice hot slice with extra cheese. Helen’s stomach rumbled and she quickened her pace, scanning the intersection for a taxi home to Joe and his full refrigerator.

  * * *

  The man waited until Helen left the building. “Hey,” he nodded a sloppy greeting to the doorman and slurred his words. “I’m meeting some friends of mine at Nicky Kentworth’s. It’s apartment Seven H. Yeah, that’s it … Seven H.”

  The doorman seemed perplexed. “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s no one named Kentworth in this building. Are you sure your friends gave you the right address?” The man figured he probably dealt with plenty of visitors who had a few too many and became a little confused.

  “Yeah, yeah,” the man garbled his words, “Three Ten East Sixty-Seventh Street, Seven H.”

  The doorman laughed. “You’re off by a block, sir. This is Sixty-Sixth Street.”

  “Jeez, guess I wasn’t paying attention while I walked over.” He swayed slightly, tilting the pizza box again. “Gotta go around the corner. G’night. Take care.”

  “No problem. You, too,” the doorman said.

  If the doorman remembered him, he’d remember a pleasantly inebriated guy who couldn’t find his way to the party. The man dumped the empty pizza box in a trash can a few doors down from Laurel’s building and strode quickly across the street.

  He couldn’t believe his luck. He had arrived at the building with the intention of getting into that bitch’s apartment and making her pay, not knowing she was out of town. Now, thanks to that smiling woman who almost knocked him over, he hadn’t blown his chance. Laurel Imperiole wasn’t here. He’d have to wait a little longer to get his hands on her.

  He stood in the shadows of a deeply recessed doorway that concealed his presence. His baseba
ll cap and sunglasses were tucked into a pocket, and he was thinking about what to do next. He looked over the parked cars toward the lobby across the way, a bright tableau framed by darkness like one of those Edward Hopper paintings. There she was again. Smiley was passing by and walking west. What did she say her name was? Helen something. He slipped out of the doorway and keeping well behind, paralleled her progress. Helen McCorkendale. That was it. He removed a small notebook from his jacket pocket and wrote it down. He wouldn’t forget Helen. Oh, no. After all, she must be a really good friend to come out this late to deliver that envelope.

  The man laughed out loud. You could always count on friends, couldn’t you? Well, any friend of Laurel Imperiole was definitely a friend of his.

  Chapter 37

  Friday, 9:17 a.m.

  Thursday had been a long day and an even longer night. Now Laurel and Aaron were on the way back to New York, driving slowly to avoid the debris left by the storm.

  Laurel hadn’t had any idea how bad the raging weather was or the devastation it caused while she was safe in Aaron’s arms at the inn. This morning, looking through the car’s windshield, she saw the downed trees, marred houses whose windows were blown out and whose doors tilted crazily off their hinges and utility poles precariously balanced over the roadway. The inn was far enough from the center of the storm to have only experienced the power outage. Cast in the sunlight of a truly beautiful day, it was a horrible, horrible mess. Just like what we’re going back to in the city.

  She stole a glance at Aaron, whose attention was focused on navigating the car through the intermittent piles of garbage still cluttering the roadway. Laurel let her mind slip back to the early morning hours while they drove.

  She had roused Aaron from a deep slumber. He awoke instantly, his sleepiness seeming to desert him and alertness quickly taking its place. Laurel needed to make him understand that what she wanted to discuss was important. She moved from the bed they shared to a comfortable side chair, putting enough distance between them to resist any temptation being close to him might bring.

  Then Laurel recounted everything that happened since Monday, starting with Anne Ellsworth’s email asking for help and ending with last night’s call to Jenna and Jenna’s confrontation with Matt.

  Aaron listened calmly, not interrupting or questioning as Laurel told him about her phone call from Jenna. “I promise you, it will be all right.” He rose from the bed to stroke her hair and take her in his arms. “No one else will get hurt.”

  The chemistry between them was too strong. Laurel turned her head slightly and began to kiss him again and again, feathering his face with soft, inviting touches. She slid her hands over his rock hard stomach and down toward his manhood. He groaned with pleasure and, gathering her in his arms, rose and placed her gently on the bed. Their lovemaking was as satisfying as before, and Laurel slept peacefully for the first time in days.

  * * *

  Aaron rose quietly while Laurel was still asleep and slipped into the bathroom to phone his squad in New York.

  “So, Larry, where are we at with Kuhn?” he asked.

  “I got on it right after you called. Man, the guy’s twitchy, boss,” declared Detective Waxman. “Kept looking over his shoulder, like he was expecting someone to jump him.”

  “Did he make you?” Aaron asked sharply.

  “No way. I paired off with Judy and we decided to do the ‘gawking tourists from the Midwest who’d never been to the city before’ routine. I called his office before we headed over to see if he planned to go in. I said I was with the phone company, that we received a call about a problem on his line. His assistant told me he was out at a meeting and would probably be back by about 3:00 p.m. She said she’d discuss it with him then, that we should call back later.

  “Judy and I went over to the ZurichBank building and were doing our tourist act, taking photos of each other and looking up at the sky. We picked him up outside at about three thirty. Must have been a long meeting.”

  “An intense one, anyway.” Aaron filled in the detective on Matt Kuhn’s meeting with Jenna Jones in Washington Square Park.

  “She sounds like my kind of woman. She must have some balls to confront this guy on her own.”

  Aaron laughed. “Actually, she’s more of a ball breaker from what I’ve seen.”

  “Well, I was right, the guy was definitely twitchy. Wait, it gets better.” Larry sounded like he could barely contain his excitement.

  “How so?” Aaron asked.

  Aaron heard him turning the pages in his notebook. “He left the office again at three forty-five and headed uptown to the Tally Ho club.”

  “And?”

  “I think we hit the jackpot, boss.”

  Aaron swore softly. Was it too much to hope for that they could put him together with Sal Santucci?

  “Judy took my tourist gear back to the squad, and I followed Kuhn into the club like I was some poor schnook in search of a little action to brighten up my day. He sat at the bar knocking back shots, looking kind of nervous and glaring at his watch every few minutes. After half an hour or so, one of those big boy bouncer types tapped him on the shoulder and showed him to a door set in the wall, back behind the bar. They kind of just ambled back there. It was very smooth, low key. Kuhn was back there about twenty, twenty-five minutes. When he came out, he wasn’t looking too good.” The detective snickered.

  “Yeah, well, Sal Santucci has that effect on most people.”

  “I was sure it was a meet with Suave Sal,” said Detective Waxman. “Everyone knows he’s got part of that club and has those two Lehman brothers fronting it for him. You think Kuhn and Santucci are connected?”

  “I’m almost sure of it.” Aaron thought of Matt Kuhn’s signature on the bottom of that letter and the fact that if Jenna’s information was correct, this was his second meeting with Santucci in as many days “Who did you get to take over the tail outside the club?” The detective would have someone ready to switch off with him.

  “I phoned the precinct when he entered that hidden room. I didn’t want to use Judy again so soon and Santo was on something else. I called in a favor from one of the guys I trust in Homicide, Bobby Nardo. When I left the club, Bobby was ready to pick up the tail from me. Kuhn went straight home and stayed there until seven p.m. Then he headed out to a local bar on Prince Street, Farina’s, for a drink and dinner. He walked around the neighborhood for a while afterward, then went back to his apartment. Bobby stayed on him till about two a.m. Santo took over then. He just called in and Kuhn is still in his crib.”

  “Good work. Here’s what I want you to do,” Aaron said. He relayed his instructions then hung up. Back in the bedroom, he sat on the bed next to Laurel, who was now awake. Aaron was surprised to find how quickly they moved back into their easy way with each other. Making love felt like they had never been apart.

  “What was that all about?” Laurel had apparently overheard some of Aaron’s side of the conversation.

  “I think we may have a break in the case. I’ll know more when we get back to the city.”

  “Tell me what’s going on. Please. I have a right to know.”

  “Later. I promise.” He turned away, avoiding her resentful stare. “We’d better get going. I need to see Norm Schnall before we head back.”

  They stopped at the Doylestown Police Station on their way out of town to say their farewells to Detective Schnall. The burly detective had made Aaron a copy of the murder book—a compilation of every shred of evidence, every statement and report relating to Anne Ellsworth’s death. Aaron would use this to work the case from New York and add any information his squad discovered.

  While Aaron and Detective Schnall discussed the details of the case, Laurel took the opportunity to call her father and John. Both Mike and her boss sounded anxious to hear from her. Each one was aware of the vicious storm that had ripped through Pennsylvania and was worried about her safety. Her father sounded relieved when she called and asked her t
o check in again as soon as she arrived home. John showed his concern with his usual tinge of sarcasm, assuring her he’d be waiting with bated breath to hear the whole story. She assured each of them she was fine and put them off with promises of full disclosure as soon as she reached New York.

  Laurel brought her attention back to Aaron, who guided the car safely onto the Interstate. “So, is it time yet?” she placed her hand on the murder book that sat on the center console between them like a dark, silent third passenger.

  “Time for what?” Aaron had a puzzled look on his face.

  “To tell me about the phone call you made just before we left the inn,” Laurel said.

  Aaron took his time answering, and Laurel sensed he was holding back again in some valiant effort to protect her. “It was about Matt Kuhn.”

  Laurel looked at the ground. “I knew it.”

  Aaron picked his words carefully. “One of my detectives discovered another connection to the Santucci family. We’re looking into it. As soon as we have enough evidence, we’ll move on it.” He paused and began again. “Look …”

  She held up her hand to silence him. “Don’t. It’s okay. Really. I’m fine with this.” She laughed derisively. “The man I’ve been seeing has been living a secret life. He’s a thief and maybe a mobster and I never suspected a thing. Hmm. Some investigative reporter I am.” She turned in her seat to face him. “I’m going to confront him about this tonight at my dad’s dinner.” She crossed her arms in front of her body. “I’m going to ask him if he knew about Anne and … and what happened to her.” Her voice grew more determined with the last few words.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Aaron said. “You’re still planning to have dinner and ask the guy if he knows about a murder, if he’s part of the Santucci crime family?” Aaron’s voice rose and Laurel felt him struggle not to lose his temper. “What do you think he’s going to say? ‘Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t make a difference in our relationship.’ ” He shook his head at her. “I can’t believe you’d do something so stupid. Forget it. No way. You’re canceling dinner.”