A.R. Winters - Valerie Inkerman 01 - Don't Be a Stranger Page 6

  I nodded. “I probably should.”

  “Was there anything else you wanted to ask Daddy?” Michelle said.

  The tired lines around Laurence’s face seemed sharper than ever. Michelle kept her hand protectively on his shoulder, and I shook my head. I hated to be the one to make him feel worse.

  “I should go,” I said. “Michelle, if you could maybe walk me out?”

  “Of course.”

  She and Laurence stood up slowly, and Laurence gave me a sharp, piercing look.

  “I trust you,” he said softly. “I hope you can do your job.”

  I shook his hand somberly. “I appreciate your time. I’m sorry – I’m sorry for everything.”

  He half-nodded and released my hand, and I followed Michelle to the door.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” she said.

  We stood in the foyer, close to each other and far enough away from Laurence that he couldn’t hear us. Standing right next to her, I could smell the subtle aroma of her perfume – probably something expensive and limited edition. Her face was devoid of the lines of stress and worry and sadness that Laurence had. In fact, now that I was paying close attention, I couldn’t even make out the wrinkles a normal thirty-eight -year-old would have.

  It was tempting to ask her where she got her Botox done, but instead, I said, “I just wanted to grab the name of Esme’s law firm. I should probably get in touch with her co-workers.”

  “Of course.”

  Michelle reeled off a name, and I said, “Hang on a sec.”

  I rooted around in my purse till I found my tiny notebook and a pen, and I wrote down the name that Michelle told me – the office was Lipkin, Lipkin and Mizrahy, and Esme’s boss was Alan Peterman.

  “And do you have her ex’s phone number?”

  “Sure.” Michelle pulled out a sleek smartphone. “It’s Kevin Ewans, and his number is…”

  She reeled off the digits, and I wrote them down and then dutifully recited them back to her. Michelle nodded and put her phone away. “Was there anything else?”

  “Um – just – did we miss anything? Should I know anything else about Esme? Any secrets your dad didn’t know?”

  Michelle smiled and shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. With Esme, you got what you saw. She didn’t really have any secrets.”

  “Right.” I nodded. “You must miss her a lot.”

  Michelle shrugged. “It’s too soon. I can’t really believe it yet.”

  “Of course. Were you – do you think she did the right thing? Becoming a lawyer and all?”

  “You mean, was I jealous of her? Of course not!”

  “No, I didn’t mean it that way, I mean–” I’d put my foot squarely in my mouth and I tried to backtrack rapidly. “What I meant was, were people at her work nice to her? Was she having any work troubles, maybe?”

  “Oh, no. Well, not that I know of.”

  “Right, right. One last thing before I leave – and I hate to ask this – but where were you on Friday night?”

  Michelle smiled thinly. She was obviously reaching the end of her patience. “I was at The Chemistry Club. You can check with my friends, Gloria and Koko, who were there with me. Now, if that’s all…” She put one hand on the doorknob, as though to turn it, when there was a soft knock on the door.

  We both stepped back, and then Michelle opened the door a crack.

  “Darren!” she exclaimed, flinging open the door to reveal a tall, dark-haired man. His eyes were green and crinkled handsomely, and the two hugged spontaneously.

  When Michelle stepped back, her face was glowing with pleasure.

  “Who’s this?” said Darren.

  I could tell that Michelle wished she could just get rid of me without wasting any more words, but she was too polite to be so blatantly rude.

  “This is Valerie, she’s a PI investigating Esme’s death. Valerie, Darren.”

  “A PI,” Darren said, looking at me as though that was the most fascinating thing he’d ever heard.

  I gulped. The man was so handsome that my knees felt weak and I wanted to grab something sturdy for support. His hair was thick and dark brown and slightly wavy, and his green eyes were flecked with tiny bits of gold. He rubbed his fingers thoughtfully along his jaw, and I gaped at how handsome and strong a jaw it was.

  “That’s so interesting,” he said.

  I had no idea what he was talking about, so I forced my lips to move and my throat to gurgle. “Uh-huh.”

  “You must look into all kinds of interesting things.”

  Did I? I wasn’t sure. So I settled on smiling, and shrugging vaguely.

  “Darren is my step-brother,” Michelle was saying.

  I heard myself saying, “Uh.”

  Darren smiled, a perfect, thin smile. “I suppose you’ll want to talk to me about Esme’s death, too.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “I’m happy to chat about it.”

  “Uh.”

  I tried desperately to think of something intelligent to say. Something relevant, witty, and preferably not mono-syllabic.

  But before I could say anything that proved my ability to utter actual words, Darren said, “I can see you’re on your way out, I guess I’ll chat with you some other time, then?”

  “Uh – yes?”

  “How about dinner tomorrow night? I’ll make a quick reservation at Le Monde Bleu.”

  I smiled. A handsome man was asking me out to dinner. That never happened – not in a million years. Well, ok, that had happened a few months ago, but it had been a fluke and the man in question had turned out to be a conniving liar. I was sure that wasn’t the case with Darren. And ok, maybe we were just meeting up to talk about the case, but still…

  “It was lovely to meet you,” Darren said, giving me a long, intense look. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight, then.”

  “See you,” I said, managing to get the words out without my voice cracking. “Bye, Michelle.”

  I gave her a bright smile, and then rushed over to the elevator. I needed to get away from Darren, before I did anything stupid or made a fool of myself.

  As the elevator rode slowly toward the lobby, I smiled to myself. Darren was so handsome and charming, and I couldn’t wait to see him again.

  When the elevator got to the first floor, I exited and took a few steps into the foyer. Confronted by the sight before me, I blinked several times and forgot all about Darren.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lisa and Mellie saw me at about the same time as I saw them.

  “Hi!” chirped Lisa brightly. “What’re you doing here?”

  I smiled politely. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “We were in the neighborhood,” said Mellie – of course, they would hang out in the most expensive Manhattan neighborhood – “and we thought we’d drop off some flowers for Esme’s dad. It’s so sad, what happened.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I looked at them skeptically. Working in PR meant staying in touch with people, networking. I didn’t believe for a second that these women actually felt sympathy for Laurence – this was just their way of staying on his radar, reminding him and his family (and his company) that they existed. For all I knew, the card clipped onto the massive bouquet of white lilies mentioned the name of their firm.

  “Are you going up?” I asked. “They’re all home.”

  The two women exchanged a glance. They were in smart business clothes, and were probably on the way back to work from some client meeting.

  “We’d better not,” said Lisa. “We don’t want to disturb the family at this sad time. The doorman said he’d take it up as soon as his shift’s over.”

  I nodded. That made sense.

  As we walked out, Lisa said, “You know, we never did get a chance to catch up that night. We should do coffee some time. Or lunch, since you’re not working at the moment – are you?”

  “Other than my PI work?” I said lightly. “No. But I’m reall
y busy looking into Esme’s death.”

  Mellie looked at me skeptically. “I thought they found out who did it?”

  I shook my head, no. “It’s an open case. So… you know. I’m busy.”

  “Really?” Lisa looked at me with interest. “Wow, I had no idea you were really a PI. I’ll make sure to spread the word and tell everyone I know. Lots of people need investigative work done these days.”

  I smiled at her. For once, she sounded sincere, and there didn’t seem to be an insult hidden under friendly words.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate friends like you spreading the word.”

  “Was Michelle up there?” asked Mellie. “Poor thing, she’s been so depressed after her divorce.”

  We were meandering toward the nearest subway entrance, and Lisa glanced around, trying to find a cab.

  “Really?” I said. “She didn’t seem that depressed to me.”

  “Well, it’s not like she doesn’t date,” said Lisa. “But – you know. She’s not settled down like we have.”

  I nodded. Lisa was married, and now Mellie was engaged, so of course they’d be smug and annoying about marriage.

  “What about Darren?” asked Mellie. “Was he there, too?”

  “I just met him briefly.” I looked at Mellie. “What’s he like?”

  Mellie and Lisa exchanged a quick glance and giggled. “Dreeeamy,” said Lisa.

  The two giggled again, and I felt a little cross.

  I turned to Mellie and said, “Oh, I’m sure he’s not as dreamy as your fiancé.”

  Mellie smiled politely. “Oh, aren’t you sweet. But Darren’s – he’s one of the best-looking men around. And he’s a real ladies’ man, too.”

  “How’d you mean?”

  “Oh, you know. A different lady each night.”

  I frowned. Was that why he’d asked me to dinner tomorrow night? Was I going to be his Friday night lady? Of course, that might not be too bad – he certainly was dreamy.

  “That’s not true,” interjected Lisa. “Didn’t he have a girlfriend, once?”

  Mellie nodded. “But that’s about it. He plays the field.”

  “Yeah,” said Lisa. “That’s why you never actually get with him. You can look – but guys like him, if you sleep with him, word gets around. After that, you’ll never be able to lock down that Top Tier husband.”

  I wanted to gag. Lisa and Mellie were always talking about locking down a Park Avenue husband, or a Top Tier husband, or any such strangely-adjectived husband, and it made me sick. I couldn’t imagine such “locked down” marriages being particularly happy.

  “Anyhow,” said Lisa. “Have you found much out about Esme’s death?”

  I smiled. “I’m not allowed to say. But we should all get together after it’s over – I’d love to hear how you’re doing.”

  We’d reached the subway entrance, and the two women were looking at me like I’d taken the pie they’d given me and thrown it back into their faces.

  I wiggled my fingers goodbye, and disappeared into the subway entrance. Lisa and Mellie stayed behind on the street, still looking for a cab that they could take back to work.

  For once, I didn’t feel so bad after talking to them.

  Although, after our chat, Darren was starting to look slightly less attractive.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I have an audition!” Jerry was just about hopping from one leg to another. “My agent got me an audition!”

  “As what? A guy who goes to jail for a murder he didn’t commit?”

  Jerry made a face. “Why’re you always so serious?”

  “And why are you always so …” What was the opposite of serious? “Un-serious?”

  “That’s not a word.”

  “Is too. It means someone who’s immature and never worries about the future.”

  “Oh? We–”

  “What audition?”

  I sat down at the kitchen table, and found the pile of index cards and my notebooks right where I’d left them the day before. As Jerry talked, I transferred everything I’d learned to those cards. I left out the part about Darren being so good-looking, but I noted that he (according to Lisa and Mellie) liked to sleep around and that he wasn’t a good person to lose your heart to. Which didn’t make much sense in the grand scheme of the investigation, but was probably a good thing for me to remember.

  Jerry babbled on as I took notes. “…And it’s for this new TV series, and if the pilot does well, it’ll be picked up for the whole season! And I could be on TV, every week, for a whole ten weeks! Or eight, or whatever.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Staying in shape’s really important for the role, because I’m this really tough, strong kinda guy. Like this.”

  Jerry struck a ridiculous pose and I glanced up for a split second. “Uh huh. I see.”

  “…And I play a detective. Isn’t that great? I’ll be like you, but way cooler.”

  “Uh huh.” I stopped taking notes and looked up at him. “What did you say about a detective?”

  “I play a detective. Like you, but way cooler.”

  I sighed. “I need to call Sara Rodriguez.”

  “Sara… who’s a big fan of cop shows?”

  “No, Sara who is a detective. Or at least plays one in real life.”

  “Right.” Jerry nodded. “Hey, maybe I could come along and meet Sara, pick up some tips on acting like a detective.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, at least let me go along with you sometimes. I could pick up something.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said vaguely, as I found my cellphone and disappeared into my bedroom.

  I stared at the phone for a moment before I dialed Sara’s number.

  “I’m near your apartment,” she said. “Is this about your work?”

  I nodded, before I realized she couldn’t see me over the phone. Sara and I had first met when I was a PI-in-training, working with my mentor, and she’d seemed to like me. At least, she’d done more than answer my questions with grunts, so I took that as a positive sign.

  “It is. Can we meet for coffee?”

  “Sure. Leopold’s Diner?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll be there in five.”

  I rushed out the door, yelling something to Jerry about being back soon. He was busy practicing a Southern accent, and called out, “Thank ya kindly, ma’am,” as I slammed the door behind me and half-ran toward the elevator.

  Despite my hurricane-like travel efficiency, Sara and a strange, crew-cut man were already sitting at a corner table in Leopold’s when I arrived.

  Leopold’s was an old diner with a spotless white floor, a scattering of red aluminum-and-plastic tables and chairs, and a staff who took orders with a vengeful efficiency. The food wasn’t that great and neither was the coffee, but the place was popular with folks who lived nearby and occasionally felt the need to get out of their shoe-box sized apartments.

  “This is Sammy,” said Sara, nodding her head toward the crew-cut man.

  I smiled politely. Sammy looked young, but his square jaw and serious eyes made him look like a capable law enforcement officer. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” he grunted, and I could tell that conversation wasn’t his forte.

  “How are you?” I said, turning to Sara.

  She smiled politely. Today, she was wearing a white cotton blouse and had hung her dark blazer over the back of her chair. Her hair was cropped super-short, and her face was bereft of any makeup. I supposed it was tough being a young, attractive policewoman, and Sara went out of her way to downplay those attributes.

  “Reasonably ok,” she said. “We’ve just wrapped up a case so we can actually go home at a decent hour today. After we’ve wrapped up the paperwork, of course.”

  “Of course. Black coffee, please,” I added, to the waitress who’d suddenly materialized.

  She placed two coffees in front of Sara and Sammy, and disappeared just as silently. />
  “How’s the PI work?” said Sara.

  “Not bad. I’m actually, ah, looking into the murder of Esme Lindl.”

  Sara nodded seriously. “Not a nice case, that one.”

  “Yes, well, I was wondering if you could tell me anything about it.”

  “It’s still an open case.”

  I nodded. “Of course. But anything that’s on the record, that you’re ok to share?”

  Sara shook her head. “I know what everyone else knows. She was at a Hamptons party, someone shot her. We’ve got a suspect, but we haven’t found the murder weapon yet.”

  “What about Esme’s personal effects? Did you give them back to her father?”

  Sara gave me a funny look. “I suppose so. Why?”

  “Wasn’t anything kept back as evidence?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure that anything was relevant. Her dad probably wanted her things.”

  “But what about her cellphone? The last number she dialed would’ve been evidence.”

  Sara looked at me in surprise, and then her expression turned studiedly blank. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”

  I sat back, pleased with myself. “There was no cell phone, was there?”

  Sara shook her head. “Look, I’m really not meant to be talking about it.”

  “Ok,” I said. “That’s fine. But let me tell you my theory. Esme was killed by someone she knew – and that someone might’ve called her. Or she might’ve called the killer. So after he shot her, the killer made sure to take her cellphone with him.”

  My coffee arrived, and the three of us sat around, sipping our coffees silently.

  “I shouldn’t be talking about this,” Sara said finally. “But yes, we could do with some more evidence. As it was, the killer covered his trail carefully.”

  “He used a silencer,” I said, “and the gun’s missing.”

  Sara nodded. “But none of this really means anything. And I suppose I shouldn’t even be talking about the case at all.”

  “That’s ok,” I said, gulping my coffee down quickly. “I really appreciate this. It was good seeing you again.”