The Darkness (2009)

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The Darkness (2009) Page 12

by Jason - Henry Parker 05 Pinter


  tenants for years, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Is there anything about Mr. Kaiser, either his mannerisms or something else, that strikes you as kind of

  strange? Something that stands out as different?”

  Don laughed. “Everyone’s different in their own way.

  There’s one guy, a psychiatrist on eleven. Different prostitute every Friday night.”

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  “Um, I don’t think I needed to know that,” I said. Don

  shrugged. “Is there anything about Brett Kaiser, though,

  that’s different?”

  Don scratched his chin. “Actually, this did seem a little

  strange, but I guess I got used to it. Every Tuesday night

  at midnight, Mrs. Kaiser leaves the apartment. And about

  five seconds after she leaves, this guy comes over.”

  “Wait. She just leaves?”

  Donald said, “That’s right. Goes to the 24/7 coffee

  shop on the corner.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Every now and then she’ll bring me a cup of coffee

  and a Danish. The bags were always from that shop.”

  “Do you have any idea who this guy is? Business

  partner? Maybe a lover?”

  “Hey, man, I don’t know that much about my tenants’

  private lives. But I don’t think so, as far as the gay stuff

  goes. He was a real tall guy. Wore sunglasses a lot, even

  at night. Looks a little like a G.I. Joe action figure.

  Stands real straight, even less personable than Mr.

  Kaiser if that’s possible. Even after he’d been coming

  over for a few months the guy never even looked me in

  the eye. Got the blondest hair I’ve ever seen, kind of

  wavy. He comes out at midnight and stays for just about

  an hour. Then he leaves at one, and Mrs. Kaiser comes

  back just as he’s left.”

  “Do you have any idea what he’s doing?”

  “No, sir. Shows up, stays an hour, then leaves. No idea

  why or who he is, but he never causes trouble and always

  seems pleasant enough.”

  “What’s his name?” I asked.

  “Sir?”

  “When you buzz him up, what name does he give you?”

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  “I don’t buzz him up anymore. By this point I know

  he’s okay so I don’t bother.”

  “But at the beginning,” I continued, “he must have

  given you a name. Do you remember it?”

  Don thought for a moment, then he said, “Chester. I

  think it was Chester.”

  “You sure?” I said.

  “Not a hundred percent, but I think so.”

  “What else can you tell me about him?” I said. Suddenly Don stood up straight and took several steps back

  from me. He straightened his hat, then stepped forward.

  I turned around to see a Lincoln pulled up at the curb. Don

  was approaching the backseat door, which he opened,

  bending over slightly while holding his hat with his free

  hand. When the door was fully open, a man stepped out

  and nodded at Don.

  He was about six feet tall, slightly stocky, a middleaged man who clearly took care of himself. His black hair

  was slicked back into a neat coif, and his skin was evenly

  tanned. His watch glimmered in the afternoon sun, and I

  didn’t need to look closer to know it was real, and had

  likely cost nearly as much as my education.

  He strode up to the entrance, and I could tell from

  the slightly scared look in Don’s eyes that this was

  Brett Kaiser.

  “Mr. Kaiser,” I said, matching his pace. Not an easy

  feat. “My name is Henry Parker. I’m with the New York

  Gazette. Can I ask you a few questions?”

  Kaiser turned to glare at me, barely breaking stride. “I

  have nothing to say to you,” he sniffed.

  “Can I ask you what you know about 718 Enterprises?

  Do you know a man named Stephen Gaines?”

  Kaiser stopped, turned to face me. His eyes were

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  cobalt-blue, but there was an anger in them that went well

  beyond that of a businessman annoyed at a prying reporter.

  “Listen here, you little prick,” he said. “I don’t know

  who the hell this Gaines fellow is, and I sure as hell am

  not going to talk to you about anything else. I—”

  “So you know about 718 Enterprises.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “You denied knowing Stephen Gaines, but didn’t

  deny being aware of a company that was allegedly paying you for lease space in your office building. Why not

  deny that as well?”

  “Like I said, I have nothing to say to you.”

  “One question,” I said. “One question and I’ll leave.”

  Kaiser held a moment. I could tell that this man hated

  being shackled by a “no comment,” didn’t believe he had

  to bow to anybody or pretend his nose was clean. He ran

  his business the way he chose, and he’d be damned if

  anybody else told him that he might have erred on the

  wrong side of the law.

  “One question,” he said, “and then if I ever see you

  again I’ll have your job taken away faster than you can

  clean all this mud off of you.”

  Cute line, I thought. It never ceased to amaze me that

  men like Kaiser could so calmly keep potentially devastating and illegal secrets, yet somehow I was the bad guy.

  “Why?” I said. “Why take their money? Your practice

  seems to be thriving. Why take the risk?”

  Kaiser opened his mouth, but just as I expected a

  lengthy response, a beautiful gem that would perhaps

  unravel the spool just a little more, his cell phone rang.

  When Kaiser looked at it, I could have sworn his face

  went pale. He shoved it back into his pocket, looked at

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  me and said, “Goodbye, Mr. Parker,” and walked inside

  the building and disappeared into the elevator.

  I stood there, trembling, angry that I had felt so close

  to getting him. Don came up to me and said, “Sweet

  guy, ain’t he?”

  “Yeah, he’s going on my Christmas list for sure.” I

  watched as the elevator light clicked, bringing Brett

  Kaiser to the twentieth floor. I eyed the windows facing

  the street. No doubt Kaiser had a great view. Then the

  curtains were drawn closed, and I figured Brett Kaiser

  was looking for a little privacy.

  “Thanks, Don. I appreciate the help. Keep up the good

  work, and thanks for being agreeable.”

  Don laughed. “Gotta tell my wife that one. ‘Honey,

  a reporter told me I was agreeable.’ Not sure if that will

  win me points at the dinner table, but it’s a good conversation piece.”

  “The least I could do,” I said. “Take it easy, Don.”

  I walked to the corner, thinking about my next move.

  I wasn’t going back quite empty-handed. Even in his

  non-answer, Brett Kaiser had confirmed that he was well

  aware of 718 Enterprises. I believed him when he said he

  didn’t know about Stephen Gaines. If my brother was

  involved in some sort of drug trade, his work on the street

/>   was twenty floors below Brett Kaiser’s penthouse.

  I was about to call Jack when I felt my cell phone vibrate.

  Assuming it was Jack calling me, I took it out, looked at

  the caller ID. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was from

  a 646 area code. It wasn’t Jack; he had a 917. Might have

  been somebody from Kaiser’s firm calling to threaten me,

  could have been a wrong number. Either way it seemed like

  a good time to screen my calls. I didn’t want to waste any

  time on a conversation that wasn’t vital to the investigation.

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  When the phone stopped vibrating, I waited for the

  little envelope to appear that signaled I had voice mail. I

  called it, plugged in my security code and listened.

  And at the first word, my blood ran cold. I knew that

  voice. Hadn’t heard it in a long time, but there was no way

  I’d ever forget it. I hadn’t spoken to her in almost a year,

  when I was dragged kicking and screaming from her office

  after she’d tried to ruin the life of the man I admired most.

  It was Paulina Cole.

  “Henry, this is Paulina. You know the last name, so I

  won’t keep you. We need to talk. Off the record. It’s important. You know damn well it’s important because you

  can bet I don’t like calling you any more than you like

  hearing this message. But we need to talk.”

  She left her cell phone number and home phone number. Not her work number. I couldn’t believe her audacity

  in calling me, but the fact that she only left her private

  lines clearly meant something was up. Something she

  didn’t want her bosses at the Dispatch involved in.

  And while I was making my mind up whether to call

  her back, Brett Kaiser’s apartment exploded in a massive

  orange fireball that shot flaming debris half a block and

  cascaded smoke down upon Park Avenue.

  16

  “Who was that?” Morgan asked.

  Chester closed the phone, putting it gently back into

  his coat pocket. He looked at Morgan blankly and said,

  “Just checking my voice mail.” He then offered a smile.

  “I didn’t hear voice mail pick up,” Morgan added.

  “You one of those dogs, hear high-frequency pitches

  and everything?” Chester asked.

  The Town Car hit a bump, and Morgan gripped the

  armrest. “No.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. Because when dogs hear something, they don’t ask questions. But if they start barking,

  that’s when their owner is bound to get upset. You get

  me, Morgan?”

  “I get you.”

  “Good,” Chester said. He looked out the window. They

  were heading toward the Queens-bound midtown tunnel.

  Morgan could make out the East River, Roosevelt Island.

  Morgan had never considered living outside of the

  city. If he was going to be a power broker, a master of the

  universe, he had to live within the castle walls. But now

  the powers that be were trying to evict him, trying to get

  him to leave the grounds he so desperately wanted to

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  123

  remain on. They’d taken his job, his livelihood, his dignity. It was up to him to figure out a way to stay.

  So if Chester wanted to bullshit him about who he

  was calling, that was fine. Morgan didn’t need to know

  everything. As long as the paychecks cleared, that’s all

  that mattered.

  “We’re almost there,” Chester said. Morgan nodded,

  looked out the window across the river.

  Somewhere in the distance, he could hear fire trucks

  screaming.

  17

  For at least a minute, I couldn’t hear a thing. The ringing

  in my ears pounded like I was being pummeled by a

  hammer, and shutting my eyes and clasping my hands

  over them didn’t do a thing. A dozen of us had run to the

  corner, under the scaffold of a construction site, to escape

  the brick and ash that was dropping from the sky like

  small mortar shells.

  I looked up at the Park Avenue building, still shocked

  to see the gaping hole where Brett Kaiser’s apartment had

  once been. Where just a moment ago I’d seen his blinds

  close. Where just a moment ago I’d questioned the man

  about his potentially illegal dealings with a company that

  may or may not have been responsible for the death of

  my brother.

  Where a man and his wife once resided. Where at least

  one of them was now dead.

  As the world slowly came back into focus, I could hear

  the sirens of police cars and fire trucks speeding to the

  scene. Onlookers stared at the building with masks of

  horror. Mouths open wide, hands covering them, tears

  streaming down their faces.

  Then I saw Donald, my new good friend, standing

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  across the street, his face covered in soot, his lower lip

  trembling as he watched flames lick at the open space

  where there used to be a window.

  Dozens of people were pouring out of the building,

  screams and cries when they saw the devastation above

  them. Some people wondered whether it was a terrorist

  attack, or another prop plane accidentally banking into a

  residential building. I wasn’t sure if the truth, that Brett

  Kaiser had undoubtedly been murdered, would comfort

  them or make it worse.

  When the first cop car pulled up, four officers exited

  and stood outside of the building looking up. One of them

  was barking into a walkie-talkie. I watched a small piece

  of gray ash float down and nestle itself on his brown

  mustache. He didn’t notice. The other cops looked at it

  for a moment, then turned back to the burning building.

  A fire truck pulled up, and immediately nearly a dozen

  of New York’s finest went to work hooking the hose up

  to a hydrant in front of the building. As they did this, I

  walked over to the cop car. When he noticed me coming,

  one of the officers turned to me.

  “Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to step back. We

  don’t know how much damage there’s been to the structure of the building.”

  “I understand that,” I said, taking my wallet from my

  back pocket. I slid my business card out and handed it to

  him. “My name is Henry Parker, and I’m with the Gazette. ”

  He rolled his eyes and prepared to hand the card back

  to me. “Mr. Parker, I—”

  “I spoke with Mr. Kaiser. Just minutes before this happened. I don’t know if I was the last person to speak with

  him but…I thought someone should have this in case they

  need to get in touch with me. If there are any questions.”

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  The cop looked at my card, understanding. He nodded,

  then slipped it into his uniform. “I’ll give it to the lead

  detective,” he said.

  “Thank you,” I said. “And good luck.”

  He nodded, turning back to the gaping hole in the

  brick building.

  I walked a few blocks away, making sure I could hear

  right again and w
as away from the commotion that would

  surely envelop that area for the next few days. I took out my

  phone and called Jack. He picked up on the second ring.

  “Hey, Henry, good timing. Brett Kaiser left about

  twenty minutes ago. I think he’s headed toward you. I

  didn’t get much, but if you—”

  “Brett Kaiser is dead,” I said. There was a pause on

  the other end.

  “Wait…what did you say?”

  “I said he’s dead, Jack. I caught up with him about ten

  minutes ago when he pulled up in front of the building.

  I talked to him for about thirty seconds, then he went

  upstairs. And less than a minute after that, somebody

  turned his apartment into a gigantic barbecue pit.”

  “Wait a damn minute,” Jack said. His voice was

  uneven, shaky. I’d never heard Jack like this before.

  Scared. It put a lump in my stomach, as the enormity of

  it all began to sink in. “You’re saying somebody killed

  Brett Kaiser?”

  “A few times over,” I said. “Somebody wanted to make

  sure he didn’t have a chance to talk to anyone. But I do

  know that he knows about 718 Enterprises, and if I’d had

  him another minute he would have spilled everything.”

  “Jesus, be careful, Henry. It’s possible somebody saw

  him talking to you.”

  “Wait, no way, how could they…”

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  “Don’t be stupid,” Jack said. “If someone knows he was

  talking to you, they might think he told you something.”

  “But he didn’t,” I said, pleading my case with nobody.

  “Whoever killed him doesn’t know that,” Jack said.

  “Be careful. Meet me back at the office in half an hour.”

  “No can do,” I said, unsure of why I was going to do

  this but sure that I needed to.

  “And why the hell not?”

  I couldn’t tell Jack. If he knew, it would toss our whole

  relationship into jeopardy. But we had the same blood,

  the same gene that refused to allow us a moment’s breath,

  that refused to give us rest if there was one unanswered

  question. But Paulina had nearly ruined his career. And

  he couldn’t know.

  “I have to meet someone,” I said. “A source. I’ll be

  back in a couple hours. We’ll catch up then.”

  “Fine, Henry. But watch your back.”

  “I will,” I said, and then hung up to go meet the one

  person I was absolutely sure would never have my back.

  I opened the phone back up, and called Paulina Cole.

 

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