Damaged (45 page)

“So then what happened?”

“I don't know.” Patricia shrugged. “I assume James called Edward and referred him to a lawyer. To you, I guess.”

“No, he didn't, because our receptionist said that Edward came to me because of our website. James doesn't know me and he wouldn't refer Edward to me.”

“I don't know. That's his business.”

“No, but it's also my business, because of Edward. I mean, let's be real, doesn't it seem strange that James would act that way? Why would he care if one of his clients needed a lawyer?”

“Maybe he thought we were going to get fired?”

“That can't be it. If you're going to let go of your lawyer, you don't ask him for a referral.”

“Well, I don't know, and I don't think it matters. I really need to get home.” Patricia became impatient, which Mary understood, but couldn't let it go.

“Wait, please work with me for one more minute. Given the chronology, it seems like James was worried that Edward was going to call a lawyer, and James was following Edward around to see if he did, or what he did.” Mary felt like she was onto something.

“Whatever, I really have to go.” Patricia headed for the door, and Mary fell into step with her.

“But I still need to talk to James.”

“I don't know what to tell you. I'm really sorry.” Patricia left the office and headed down the hall, but Mary took her arm.

“Patricia, please, you're a mom. There's a ten-year-old boy in foster care and I'm trying to give him his future. If I don't talk to Edward, I can't get him a new lawyer, and he can end up in foster care for the rest of his life. You've been so terrific, but isn't there any other way we can find him? Could he have gone back to the house? Should we check there?”

“There's no reason to. I called everybody who he might be with.”

“Isn't there anybody else who might know where he is? Somebody who he talks to?”

“I don't think so.” Patricia stopped abruptly, raking her fingers through her red curls. “Oh, wait. I know somebody we could try. He doesn't golf but they talk on the phone. Dave Kather.”

“The stockbroker?” Mary didn't say so, but she remembered that Dave Kather had told her that he never talked to James. “Dave Kather was Edward's stockbroker at Cornerstone Financial.”

“I'm sure. James sends all of his clients to Cornerstone Financial. They all invest with Dave. I think every Vietnam vet in the tri-county area invests with Dave, thanks to James. So Dave might know where James is.” Patricia reached for her phone. “I'll call him for you.”

“Hold off. I have his number.” Mary was thinking steps ahead. “Do you know Kather?”

“No, never met him.”

“He doesn't come by the office?”

“No.”

“Have you spoken to him on the phone?”

“I don't know, once or twice maybe? I really do need to go.” Patricia resumed walking to the white door that led out of the office proper.

“How do you know that James sends him clients?” Mary followed on her heels.

“I just do. James will tell me to send a client Dave's number.”

“Does Dave have the Batphone number?”

“I don't know, I never gave it to him.” Patricia opened the white door, and Mary went through into the tan hallway.

“When Dave called the office, does he call on the cell or the landline?”

“The cell.” Patricia closed and locked the white door.

“Do you know any reason why Dave would tell me that he doesn't talk to James, when he does? I mean, Dave and James have some sort of business relationship. James refers him investment clients. Why would they want to keep that a secret?”

“They don't, they just didn't tell you about it, and I don't think it means anything. I'm sure there's email about it. I know they email each other.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I've seen emails from Dave on James's computer.”

“On the desktop that's missing?”

“Not
missing
, he took it with him.” Patricia led the way down the corridor, and Mary couldn't help but feel that she was onto something, but it was just out of her grasp.

“Do you have access to James's email?”

“I have access to his main email but he has a private email that I don't have access to. Not that this is any of your business.”

Mary let it go. “Do you know if James communicates with Dave on the main email or the private email?”

“No, I don't. I only noticed it on the computer once or twice. I don't spy on my boss, there's no reason to.” Patricia reached the security door, twisted the deadbolt, and opened it. “James is a nice old man and he does a good job for his clients. And it's not suspicious or anything that he didn't tell you the details of his personal business.”

“If he calls, will you let me know?”

“Totally.” Patricia closed and locked the security door, handing Mary her phone. “Here, put your number in my contacts. He'll call me when he lands. This will sort itself out.”

“Thank you.” Mary took the phone, scrolled to
CONTACTS
, plugged in her information, then handed it back. She glanced around the parking lot and noticed that it was practically empty, with only three cars left. The martial arts class must've let out, and two men stood talking between their cars, parked behind the studio.

“You're welcome.”

“Thanks again for the help. I hope your husband feels better.”

“That makes two of us.” Patricia hurried to her car, chirping it unlocked. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Mary watched Patricia drive out of the lot. Her head was swimming. She felt so frustrated that she hadn't been able to persuade her that something was amiss, but she wasn't stopping there. She went in her purse, rummaged for her wallet, and pulled out a business card.

Detective Randolph's.

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

“Hi, this is Mary, Detective Randolph.” Mary walked through the parking lot, and the men from the martial arts class got inside their cars, started the engines, and left.

“I'm busy at the moment. Can I call you back?”

“But this is important. I think there is something you need to investigate in conection with Edward's death. There's been some very fishy things going on—”

“Mary, it's late, and I'm busy.”

“But just hear me out.” Mary collected her thoughts. “I needed to see Edward's executor to get a disbursement from the estate, but he took off for the Caymans for no apparent reason and without telling his secretary or his friends.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“That's strange enough behavior, and before that, he was following Edward around in his car. Edward called his office and told him that he needed a referral for a lawyer, and as soon as that happened, the executor started following Edward.” Mary reached the sidewalk and walked down the street. The asphalt shone in the ambient light. “I thought it was Robertson who was following him, but now I think it was the executor.”

“Mary, I'm out on a job. I don't have time—”

“But I think this is related to Edward's death. Patrick didn't do it, I swear to you.” Mary walked down the street toward her car. “I found out tonight that the executor has a mustache and he drives a brown Subaru. That means it was him, not Robertson.”

“Hold on. What did you say?”

“He has a mustache.”

“No. What kind of car?”

“A brown Subaru. A sedan. A neighbor saw him packing his trunk and—”

“This executor, what's his name?”

“James Geltz. He's an estates attorney in the Northeast. I'm at his office now, I'm just leaving.”

“You're at Geltz's office? What are you doing?”

“I'm trying to find Geltz. I was just talking to his secretary, and he left town, taking his desktop. I'm thinking he was trying to hide whatever was inside it—”

“Mary, Geltz is the job I'm on.”

“
What?
” Mary gasped.

“Yes, James Geltz was found dead in a brown Subaru, parked in an industrial stretch off I-95. He died of a gunshot wound to the head, an apparent suicide.”

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

“Geltz killed himself?” Mary asked, stunned. “Oh no! My God!”

“Now tell me again how you—”

Mary heard nothing else. Suddenly she was shoved from behind with brute force. She flew off her feet, staggering forward. She had no idea what was happening. It came out of the darkness.

She landed facedown on the sidewalk. She broke her fall instinctively, scraping her palms. The wind got knocked out of her. Her chin hit the concrete. Her jaw reverberated with shock.

She gasped for breath. Her purse was jarred off her shoulder. Her phone went skidding under her car. She could hear Detective Randolph saying, “Mary? Mary?”

A man was upon her, his dark figure silhouetted in the faraway lights of Gower Street. She realized she was being mugged. She torqued her body around, groped for her purse, and flung it at the man. “Take it, I don't care!” she shouted, cowering.

She looked up, but the man had gone after her phone, diving under the car. She realized it was a chance to get away. She left her purse, scrambled to her feet, and bolted back toward the martial arts studio.

“Help!” Mary shouted at the top of her lungs. She ran as fast as she could. She knew the mugger wouldn't follow her. He wanted her phone and purse. Still she had to get away.

“Help!” Mary yelled. The martial arts studio was still open. Its back door stood ajar. Fluorescent lights were on inside. A man appeared in its doorway, still in his karate robes. He must have heard her cries. He ran toward her, his robes bright in the darkness. It was the martial arts instructor, with a black belt.

“Help, I'm being mugged!” Mary screamed to him, and the martial artist raced toward her. She heard footsteps behind, running hard after her. The mugger wasn't giving up. She couldn't imagine why. He had her purse and her phone. He must not have seen the martial artist. The mugger was in for a rude awakening.

The martial artist reached Mary at the back of the parking lot, taking her firmly by the arms and keeping her moving toward the martial arts studio. “I got this,” he said. “Get in the studio. Close the door behind you. Call 911.”

“I can't call, he's got my phone!” Mary yelled as she hurried to the open door.

“Use the phone on the desk. Go.”

Mary ran to the martial arts studio. She tried to close the door behind her. It wouldn't budge, held open with a wooden wedge. She didn't have time to fuss with it. She didn't want to lock out the martial artist anyway.

She looked at the parking lot to see what happened. Light spilled from the open door, illuminating the scene. The mugger raced forward to confront the martial artist. She got a good look at the mugger's face. She recognized him from the website.

It wasn't a mugger at all.

It was Dave Kather.

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Mary gasped, terrified. She couldn't process what she was seeing fast enough. Kather was coming after her. But she had an expert protecting her. Kather would be stopped right now.

The martial artist raised his arms, lowering his center of gravity. “Stop what you're doing or I'll stop you!”

All of a sudden Kather swung his arm up. He held something in his hand. Its metallic glint caught the light. It was a weapon. He aimed it at the martial artist. Mary didn't know if it was a gun. Her heart leapt to her throat. She realized what it was a split second later. A Taser.

Kather fired the Taser. Two purplish lights flared like pinpoint explosions. Two electrified pins on wires leapt from the Taser. The pins made a hideous buzzing sound as they connected with the martial artist. He spasmed hideously, his neck wobbling and his arms flailing. He crumpled to the parking lot, still in paroxysm.

Mary screamed in horror. Kather dropped the Taser, then looked up at her. He ran toward her.

Frantically Mary tried to kick the wooden wedge from under the door. She couldn't do it. She whirled around and ran into the martial arts studio.

She saw the main entrance on the other side of the room. She sprinted across the room for it, almost tripping on the thick blue mats. She reached the door, practically threw herself against it, and tried to yank it open. It didn't move. It had been locked. The keys were nowhere in sight.

Mary looked around wildly, trying to find another exit. There wasn't one, only a front door and a back door. She was trapped. The studio was a single empty room. A wooden rail ran the length of the room, separating the mats from the spectator and office area. She was completely exposed. The only furniture in the room was the desk. Kather would find her.

Equipment and weaponry ringed the room. A rack of long wooden sticks was affixed to the wall. A life-size model of a human torso stood on a stand. Nunchucks filled an oversized bin. A ceremonial samurai sword was mounted on the wall. She had no idea how to use any of it. She would have to try. It was her only chance.

Suddenly she was plunged into darkness. Kather must've turned off the lights. She didn't know where he was. She couldn't see the weapons anymore. She couldn't hear Kather over her own ragged breath. Darkness was her enemy, light was her friend. There had to be a light switch near her. She was next to the door. With the lights on, she could see and be seen through the storefront. Somebody would drive by and discover them. She groped on the wall for a light switch. She found it and flicked it on.

“No!” Mary screamed when she saw what was happening.

Kather was midway toward her, raising a gleaming samurai sword.

Mary ran to the other corner, pushing the hanging punching bag at him. It barreled fast at Kather, but he ducked it. He kept coming, swinging the gleaming sword back and forth. Suddenly police sirens blared nearby. All she had to do was stay alive until they got here.