“Why?”
“Because places like that don’t pay shit. Money talks. When I find the right person, it will make them sing.”
“Were you able to talk with any of the front desk clerks?”
“The manager wouldn’t let me. She said that if this is why I had come, then I should leave because the hotel operates under a strict privacy clause.”
“What’s next?”
“Molly’s Diner in the Village,” he said. “We go there tonight.”
“That should be interesting. Keep me informed.”
“Will do.”
“And thanks, Tank.”
“You’ve got it. We’ll get this done. Say hello to Jennifer for me.”
“She’s right here.”
“Hi, Tank,” I said.
“Jennifer. How is Maine treating you?”
“Perfect given the company. But I have to say that I’d like to be in the middle of it with you and your team. I hate that I’m doing nothing to help.”
“This isn’t over yet,” he said. “Who knows? At some point, you and Alex might find yourselves in the middle of it again. But first, do me a favor.”
“Anything,” I said.
“Take care of that shoulder of yours. Get better. Spend time with Alex. Know that we’ve got this on our end.”
“Any news on Cutter?”
“He’s getting better every day.”
“And thank God for that,” I said. “Do you know if we’ll see him soon?”
“Not sure, but there’s hope. Look, I should go. I need to meet with my team to brainstorm how we’ll handle tonight.”
“Call me if you have any luck,” Alex said. “I’ll have my cell with me at all times. If you find out something at the diner, don’t worry about the time. Just call me.”
“I’ll call if we have any luck. Otherwise, if you don’t hear from me, know that I’m still working on it.”
BUT TANK DIDN’T CALL that night. Instead, he called the next morning, when Alex and I were sitting at the kitchen island having coffee. When the phone rang, I turned to Alex, who was sitting in nothing but his boxer shorts, his hair tousled—and his eyes suddenly bright. The phone was beside him and he reached for it.
“It’s Tank,” he said.
“Fingers crossed. Can you put it on ‘speaker’?”
He did.
“How did it go last night?” Alex asked when he answered the phone. “I’m assuming not well.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re not finished with Molly’s Diner.”
“Why’s that?”
“It all comes down to lighting.”
“What does that mean?”
“Here’s the deal. During the evening, the lighting in the diner is dim. Very dim. The waitresses we spoke to were more than happy to look at Rowe’s photograph, and while three said they were fairly sure they’d waited on him and another woman before, in the end, they said that they couldn’t be absolutely sure. And I can see why. Last night, the diner was packed, which one waitress confirmed was generally the case at Molly’s, from the moment they opened the doors in the morning until they closed them at midnight. I had dinner there with three of my men for two reasons. First, we wanted to take separate tables and talk to the servers, which we did. Second, we wanted to watch how the servers interacted with their customers. What became very clear almost at once is that this place is so busy that there isn’t a lot of time for the servers to have idle chit-chat with anyone. That joint is nothing if not fast-paced and efficient—the perfect place to go if you just want to blend in with the crowd and become anonymous, which would have been one of Rowe’s goals.”
“But what if he took Jones there for breakfast?” Alex said. “Or, most likely, for lunch?”
“Exactly, which is why we’re headed back there today to talk with the lunch crew. There’s no hiding there in broad daylight. Even if the daytime servers are as busy as the dinner-hour servers, there’s a greater chance that someone from the lunch staff will recognize Rowe when we show them his photograph. And if someone does recognize him and they saw him repeatedly with the same woman, what I need to know from them is this—how did they read their relationship? Did they think that things were casual between them, or was there no question that they were behaving as a couple? That’s the juice I need in order for you to threaten Rowe. Otherwise, he could just say that he was there with a client, but even that comes with its own share of issues for Rowe.”
“It does,” Alex agreed. “Why would he be seen repeatedly with the same woman at a diner in the Village? How would he explain that to his wife? She would wonder why Rowe, of all people, would travel so far downtown to some little hole in the wall to meet with the same woman on several occasions when he’s used to dining at places like The Four Seasons. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s meeting that woman at that specific location for a reason. And because of that—even if the staff at the diner didn’t view them as being romantic with each other—you’ve got something on him, provided you can find someone who remembers them together and is willing to come forward with whatever she or he saw.”
“We’ll see how that goes.”
“You’re doing good work, Tank. What do you have planned for tonight?”
“We’re going to the strip club where Rowe first met Jones. If she’s been seeing Rowe for two years, my guess is that she’s been out of stripping for, say, a year-and-a-half or so. The club where she worked is one of the city’s best. Very high end. Gorgeous women, and extremely wealthy men happy to throw their money at them. In that kind of a situation, a girl can make several grand per night, so that says to me that there likely is very little turnover. I’m betting we can find several girls who do remember Janice. Maybe we’ll come upon one or two who are even still in touch with her. And if we do, then with a significant tip, we might just get tipped off as to where she is.”
“I think you’re onto something here,” Alex said. “Is this a private club? Are you going to have any issues getting inside?”
“It is a private club, but getting inside won’t be a problem.”
“How’s that?”
“Uh, let’s just say that one of my buddies happens to be a member.”
“You’re joking?”
“Hey, he’s a single guy and he makes a great living. I don’t judge. In fact, in this case, I’m grateful for it because guess what? He’s allowed to bring two guests with him—me and one of my men.”
“Tell me you’re not going to get a lap dance, Tank,” I said.
“I’m exclusive to Lisa, Jennifer—but I know that you were just joking. The man I’m bringing with me, however, is more than up for that. He’s single, and he’s as good as I am at pulling out critical information from strangers. Money truly talks in a setting like that, so we plan to spend plenty of money on the right person if we need to. Sorry, Alex—but that’s how it goes.”
“Spend whatever you have to. I sure as hell don’t care.”
“I didn’t think you would. Anyway, that’s where we are with everything. I’ll call with an update later tonight.”
THE NEXT TIME TANK called, it was past three in the morning. When his cell started ringing from the bedside table, Alex immediately woke up and swung around to reach for it. He answered it with the ‘speaker’ function active so I could hear what Tank had to say.
“Sorry to be calling so late,” he said. “But this can’t wait.”
“You sound upbeat,” Alex said.
“That’s because I am.”
“What happened today?”
“It’s more like what happened about an hour ago.”
“What happened an hour ago?”
“Enough to bring you home tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Alex said.
“That’s right. After what happened tonight and my talk with Blackwell a moment ago, it’s clear that you both need to come back to New Yor
k as soon as possible. It’s already set up. Your plane leaves at nine. You’ll be here by mid-morning.”
“You’ve talked with Blackwell?” Alex said.
“I had to talk with her before I called you. You’ll see why in a minute.”
Alex sat up in bed and leaned against the headboard. With my arm strapped in its sling, it was a struggle, but I did the same.
“All right—back up,” Alex said. “What happened at the strip club?”
“Epifania Zapopa happened at the strip club.”
“Epifania Zapopa was there?”
“No—Epifania Zapopa used to work there. Several years ago, when she first came to Manhattan, she was dirt poor—we all know that. What we didn’t know is that she stripped at night while cleaning homes during the day. And for about a year or so, she stripped right alongside Janice Jones. From what I heard tonight, they were friends.”
“You’re kidding me?” Alex said.
“I’m not. After getting a lap dance from one of the girls and giving her a thousand-dollar tip, my man was able to get her to talk. Sure, she remembered Janice. She said lots of the girls would remember Janice. Plenty were unhappy when she left the club because, and I quote, ‘she met that rich older guy, who stole her away from us. We loved Janice.’ I asked her what the man’s name was, but she didn’t know it. I showed her Rowe’s photograph, and that stopped her cold. I knew she recognized Rowe on sight, but she told me that the club had a strict privacy policy that she had to follow. And no, no amount of money would ever change her mind about that because this was how she made her living and the income was too good for her to take such a risk and jeopardize her job. I asked her if she thought any of the other girls would be willing to speak, but she said that she doubted it for the same reason. And then she seemed to take pity on us and said, ‘Look, find a woman by the name of Epifania Zapopa. She used to work here. She and Janice were close. Now that she’s out of the club, maybe she’d be willing to talk with you because the rules no longer apply to her. Besides, she’s so fucking rich now that she can say whatever the hell she wants—no one can touch her at this point. I think she and Janice are still friends, but who knows? I don’t. I haven’t seen either of them in, like, forever.’”
“I can’t believe it,” Alex said. “Epifania Zapopa—a stripper?”
“I can believe it,” I said. “She’s a beautiful woman. She came here with nothing, and she did what she had to do in order to survive. The loose cannon of Park Avenue continues to surprise.”
“So, where do we go from here, Tank?”
“The reason I’m bringing you home on such short notice is because we need to get to Epifania. I called Blackwell before I called you for a reason. I wanted to know the fastest and easiest way to get to Epifania. Blackwell said that the woman is a confirmed social butterfly and that her calendar is likely packed. So I asked her if there were any big events coming up that Epifania might be invited to. She said that Henri Dufort is having another one of his big bashes later tonight. Naturally, you and Jennifer are invited. Blackwell has the invitation list and she found Epifania’s name on it, which says to me that Henri doesn’t blame her for what happened to his father the night Audric went out the window. I need you to be at that party and to talk with Epifania so we can potentially find out where Janice Jones is living now.”
“We’ll need to start packing now,” I said.
“I know this is sudden,” he said. “But if you want to meet this head on, then you need to reach out to her, and Henri’s party is the perfect opportunity to do so. You’ll be able to find out what she knows about Jones. If they’re still friends, there’s a fair chance that Epifania knows where Jones is living now. And if she does know—and if she’s willing to spill the details we need about where she’s living—then that’s just gravy. If we get lucky, we’ll go to Janice and we’ll appeal to her to help us.”
“I still can’t get over the fact that Henri invited her to the party considering what happened to his father,” I said.
“He obviously doesn’t hold Epifania accountable,” Alex said. “I think his invitation is his way of recognizing the truth—Audric encouraged Epifania to sit on his lap before his wheelchair went haywire. If you remember, she didn’t want to do it.”
“She didn’t,” I said. “And even when she did agree, you could tell that she was only trying to appease him. So once again, Henri proves that he’s a class act.”
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Tank said.
“You will,” Alex agreed.
“Jennifer, Blackwell said that you’ll need to be ready to do some shopping. You’ll need a dress. New jewelry. She has some ideas. And then Bernie will tend to you before the party.”
“I’m all over it,” I said. “Sling and all. Do you know if Rowe will be there?”
“He will.”
“Perfect,” I said. “I, for one, can’t wait to see him again.”
“Why do I suddenly feel like it going to be one of those parties?” Alex said.
“Because nobody puts baby in the corner,” I said. “And you’re my baby. So get ready for some fireworks, because at that party? I plan on bringing a rocket launcher with me.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WHEN WE ARRIVED IN Manhattan, it was just past ten in the morning, the sun was rising high in the sky, and there were two black SUVs waiting for us on the tarmac. Tank stepped out of one of them when we descended the Lear’s narrow stairs, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who was in the other.
Blackwell.
And I was right. Clearly, Tank had his marching orders because he only allowed Alex and me a quick kiss on the lips before he escorted me to Blackwell’s SUV.
“I’m assuming the shopping can’t wait...”
“Let’s just say that she’s on a mission.”
“When isn’t she?”
“Touché.”
When he opened the door for me, Blackwell whipped her head around, removed the dark glasses from her face, devoured me with one glance, and then pressed her head back against the seat and started to writhe in a show of despair. “Why?” she said. “Why? Just tell me why.”
“And hello to you, Barbara.”
“Hello, my ass. You knew we were going shopping, and you show up looking like this? Maine, what were you thinking? You know better than this. Over the past year, I’ve spent tens of thousands of hours on you teaching you better than this.”
“That’s kind of impossible,” I said as I sat next to her. I winked at Tank and flashed him a smile. He caught my look, and tossed it back as he shut the door.
“Well, it certainly feels that way. Why the jeans? And why, of all things, the damned white tank top?”
“It isn’t exactly as if I packed to go to Paris when we left New York. We were going to Maine, for God’s sake. It was meant to be casual, and it was casual. This is all I had. I think I look summery chic.”
“I think you look like trailer trash. Mama June comes to mind.”
“Oh, please. I don’t look that bad.”
“You might want to check yourself in a mirror, cookie, because even your hair looks brittle. Bernie is going to have his work cut out for him, that poor man. You always put him through hell. You always make it seem as if he didn’t spend enough of his life roasting on the coals of Fire Island.”
“Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to even get dressed with my shoulder like this?”
“That’s hardly an excuse.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
“Alex would have been perfectly happy to strap your ass down on your bed so he could shovel you into something more presentable than this.”
“Oh, while we’re on the subject of Alex, let’s just be clear. He shoveled something into me, alright.”
“Don’t be disgusting. I eschew the details of your lovemaking.”
“Barbara, you should have seen us,” I said. “The tricks we had to learn together with me in this sling. We had t
o get pretty inventive—and we were!”
“Enough!” she said, and then she shot me a sidelong glance—and her face softened. “Though to be serious for a moment, I am happy that you had a romantic time together with your husband. God knows that you both needed one. Are things better between you now? Did the time away help?”
I knew she was talking about the baby, and while I didn’t necessarily want to discuss that with her now, this was Blackwell, who had helped me through one of the most difficult times in my life. So, I acquiesced for that reason.
“After that kind of loss, I’m not sure what better is, Barbara. But for the sake of my marriage, I needed to make an effort to accept the loss and move forward. I’m not talking about moving away from the loss—that will never happen. It’s always going to be part of me, just as you said it would. I will never forget what happened to my child. But I can’t let that destroy what I have with Alex. I need to be present for him. Be there for him. He’s hurting as much as I am. But in life, sometimes we need to wear a mask until enough time passes that you can take it off completely. As for now, I think we’re both wearing a mask. We’re both trying to rise above the unthinkable. But eventually, we will accept it and move beyond it. What other choice do we have?”
“None—and I can tell you that because I’ve been there. I’m proud of you, my dear. It takes a lot of courage to fight on, but what are you if not a fighter?” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “Because that’s who you are, you know? A fighter. And in my consideration, you’re among the best there is when it comes to that. Look at your track record, for God’s sake. It’s practically impenetrable.”
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