Cross Cut (5 page)

“Be seated, gentlemen,” she said. “A pleasure to see you again.”

I sat on the edge of my desk as opposed to the sofa. No particular reason other than variety. It allowed me to clearly see the three of them, though.

“Pleasure is ours, believe me,” Flores said, readjusting his position in the black leather chair. Gregg sat perfectly still on an ebony wooden chair we use for excess guests.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” Ryder asked.

Flores pulled himself forward. “Nothing in particular. We’re not here for a favor or anything. Actually, we came to give you advice.”

Ryder’s hands moved a little under her chin. After hearing him say it with such sincerity, she was probably taken aback. I thought it odd, but offered no comment.

“Well,” Ryder said, “I never balk at free advice, especially from one professional to another.” She held out her hands, signaling Flores to continue.

Flores cleared his throat. “Well, it’s like this. Cristescu was let go yesterday. Swung an early parole. He’ll be back in his club by now.”

Ryder took it well. Better than I did. We knew this day would come eventually, although we hardly practiced our reaction to it.

Ryder tilted her head toward me and pulled it back. “Indeed. Am I right in thinking this is a—what would you call it,
heads up
?”

“Pretty much.” Flores tapped his finger on the chair. “I won’t waste your time with a long story. We think you should consider protection, whether it’s official or private. I don’t think your lone strolls down the pier are a good idea either, especially at night.” Flores looked at me. “I know my amigo here’s an ex-soldier, much like yourself, but Cristescu has an army. And Romanians never forget.”

Ryder raised a finger. “So, you advise me to cower inside all day, just because a criminal has been released? Pah.”

“Miss Ryder, with all due respect, I think you should consider it,” Gregg said.

She shook her head. “I thank you gentleman for your concern. Really, I do. But I will not let my daily routine be interrupted by a thug. We have the necessary precautions here. I also have Ader, who, as you know, is usually present. It may interest you to know that he can hit a target at two thousand feet without a spotter.”

“Sure.” Flores said, looking at me. “And I’m a professional hook-a-duck player. I’m not expecting the Romanians to plan a siege on your beach house. They’re more likely to come after you when you’re out of familiar territory.”

I gave him a snort and watched as Ryder put out her palm, saying, “Erik Cristescu may hold a grudge, but he is not foolish. I rarely venture out alone. When I do, it is to the pier, which has cameras spread about the area. I do not intend—”

She stopped as Flores raised his own palm.

“Very well,” he said. “I knew it would fall on deaf ears, but I didn’t want you saying we didn’t try. We have eyes on him for other reasons, but you know how that is. We have one officer for ten of their own.”

Flores and Gregg rose, as did Ryder. We each exchanged farewells and I escorted them outside. Back in the office, Ryder had her nose back in her book.

“You could have offered them a drink,” I said.

No answer. Not that I expected one. I went through to the kitchen and got myself another orange juice and toasted to Melissa, who was watering the plants on the window ledge.

“What was all that about?” she said.

“Nothing much. Romanians might be coming to shoot up the place.”

“That so. I’ll remember to put my earplugs in before I got to bed.”

“With your snoring? Not necessary.”

She gave me a thump and returned to the plants. I took a sip from the glass and toasted her again, then made for the office. I spent the next few hours on the sofa and tried hopelessly to read, and failed. My mind was elsewhere. Mostly, I focused on which side of the room I would take cover when the Romanians broke through the front door, hoping that they weren’t planning a raid for 9PM when we had guests. That would just be rude.

6

We have dinner between 7 and 8PM. Ryder may be a stickler for organization and time, but she was adamant food was ready when it was ready. The dining room is a small room, between the study and the games room. We use it for an hour every day, and that is the only time it ever sees us.

The Persian-style lamb with couscous went down with ease and we waited for 9PM to arrive. The sun was setting, so I prepared by shutting the blinds to all the windows and turned on the corner lamps instead of the main light directly in the centre of the office. It felt cozier that way and Ryder agreed. We preferred the room to have that authentic, fire-like feel, as opposed to having the equivalent of floodlights bearing down on us.

We expected at least three guests and ended up with five. I showed them in and sat them down, all in the ebony wooden chairs for equality. I moved the black leather chair over to my sofa and used it for myself.

To make it easier I’ll be brief and name them left to right, from Ryder’s position, sitting at her desk: Darren Bromme, President and CEO of Gillham and Mane. I would say in his sixties. Doreen Sharp, Company Secretary. She was the one I talked to on the phone. Laura Harles, who I assumed to be some kind of office junior, given her youth, was actually from their legal department. Graham Rudd, head of their research department. I won’t even try to remember his official title. And Robyn Faith, also from the legal department. Seems like anyone who was anyone in that company had their doubts, and thought Ryder was up to something. Most people would assume two lawyers was overkill, when it was really like sending ants to attack a five year old. Doesn’t matter how many they send, they’ll just end up being squished.

Ryder waited for them to settle and opened proceedings. Hands under her chin as usual. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I have no doubt you are aware of your surroundings, but for clarity, my name is Kendra Ryder, and this is my assistant, Adrian York, whom you may address as Ader. I suggest we keep introductions at a minimum. No doubt it has been a stressful day for you all and it is late in the evening.”

“I’ll say,” Rudd said. “We’ve been at it all day with the cops. God knows why we had to come here at this hour.”

“God indeed knows, sir.” Ryder frowned. “You being here is a problem of your own, I would suspect. I neither knew the identity or number of people coming tonight.”

Rudd returned the frown and gazed over at Bromme, the CEO, who returned a dominant nod.

Bromme then turned to face Ryder and said, “Not everyone in the company agrees with the action we are about to take. But we put it to a vote and the motion carried. Guy Lynch was a respected colleague. But, regardless of Mr Rudd’s lack of tact, I too wonder why we had to be here at this hour. For one, we have no information which can aid you, and secondly, couldn’t you have just asked the police for the pertinent information?”

Ryder shook her head and a small sigh stayed inside her throat. “Whether you have any pertinent information is surely up to the person asking for it. As for the police, they will only be within our reach once I have accepted you as a client. It is also worth noting that I offered my hand to you first. For all I knew, you were coming here tonight to decline my offer.”

This went on for a while. The two males and Doreen Sharp exchanged ideas, while the two lawyers argued their case; that while it was in the interest of the company for them to be involved as clients, that certain things needn’t be investigated. Ryder promptly told them to take a hike and that wasn’t how she worked. After fifteen minutes it was resolved and Ryder offered them the appropriate documents, which they each in turn inspected. Another five minutes down the drain.

“Your fee isn’t specified,” Robyn Faith said. “Highly dubious to expect us to sign such a thing.”

“The fee will depend on what I have to do. I remind you this criminal has evaded the police for three years.”

“Yet you seem confident you will find him,” Bromme said.

“If I can’t find him, no one can,” Ryder said plainly.

“Pure egotism,” Rudd said.

“Certainly.” Ryder glared. “But my reputation is not based on my own plaudits. If you require references—”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Bromme said.

A small squeak came from the other lawyer, Laura Harles. “Can I ask—why now?”

“Beg your pardon?” Ryder said.

“Your name was never mentioned in the papers throughout the previous killings. Why the interest now after three years and eight deaths later?”

I could have kissed her. Ryder had been asked this repeatedly, of course, but there was just something in the way she said it. She sounded genuinely interested without being judgmental or rude. Ryder found it hard to talk back to people who were just plain nice.

“I hardly think my motivation needs discussion,” Ryder said with a frown and turned to me. “To quote my assistant’s awful turn of phrase, I am late to the party. But here, nonetheless.”

Laura Harles nodded and didn’t reply. Bromme signed the documents and handed them over to me. “Now, what can we do to help?” Bromme said.

Ryder replied, “Very little, I would imagine. Beside telling me everything you can about Guy Lynch. It has been mentioned before that we are tracking a killer whose motives are yet to be ascertained. However, it would benefit me to discern if there is any particular reason why Guy Lynch was murdered.”

There was more to it than that, of course, but she couldn’t very well explain that there were two Lynch’s in the frame. That was reserved for ourselves.

“The police said he was here this morning,” Doreen Sharp said firmly. “Surely you know a little about him?”

Ryder shook her head again. “I regret to say that our conversation was limited. For what it is worth, I would suggest we ignore said conversation ever took place.” She shut the door on that one quickly.

“Well—” Bromme readjusted his glasses. “I’m not sure I or anyone here could answer for his personal life. Otherwise, he was a good worker. He knew how to sell a product to potential clients. A large part of our business relied on him, so he will be missed.”

“I think he had a brother—” Laura Harles said sheepishly.

Ryder nodded but didn’t get anywhere with it. Laura Harles couldn’t offer a name or address.

Ryder said, “Are any of you aware of Guy Lynch’s whereabouts today, or have any notion why he was in that public restroom at such a time? Or, for that matter, was anyone aware of his visit to me this morning?” For a moment I thought she’d slipped. She had to play it this way. Even though we both knew the real Guy Lynch was never here, they didn’t, and they’d only be bemused at her forgetting his alleged visit.

They all shook their heads negatively. Rudd mentioned he liked a diner two blocks away from the office, which meant nothing, as the public restroom was five blocks away from the office. There was the suggestion that Lynch was caught drastically short after the drive back from our office, which Ryder disregarded, not merely because it didn’t happen that way, but she failed to see how desperate a man’s bladder could be with five blocks to go.

“And he told none of you about the circumstances which led him to my office?” she asked. I get the feeling she was fishing. Trying to find out where we stood with the real Lynch, and whether the visit from the fake Lynch this morning had any relevance. The response was negative. “He showed no signs of discomfort? None at all?” she asked. Again, the response was largely negative. Rudd and Doreen Sharp mentioned stress, but suggested that was hardly mentionable given his job description.

Ryder let her hands fall to her desk and she looked across them all, from left to right. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, it appears I am in for a tough time. Unless any of you have anything to add?”

They murmured for a few seconds and shook their heads. Rudd looked like he had somewhere to be and the two female lawyers looked ready to drop. Bromme rose from his chair and the rest followed. “What do you intend to do?” he said.

Ryder pushed her chair back and held the edge of her desk. “That, sir, is my business. I am happy to update you on progress, should you wish it.”

“Certainly.” Bromme nodded. “If there is anything we can do in the meantime—”

Ryder nodded. “I may send Ader to question your employees. But it may not be necessary.”

Bromme agreed and they said goodbye. I escorted them out the door and watched them walk, ragged and defeated. Ready to drop the moment their head hit the pillow. I felt the same, even though I’d been on the sofa half the day.

I called out to Bromme, “If you want updating, I’d call rather than visit. We’re expecting a gang to shoot up the place any day now.”

Bromme laughed it off at first, but his smile soon changed when he noticed mine was partially serious. I gave a salute and closed the door behind me. I returned to the office to see Ryder sitting at her desk, her book spine downward on top of the in-tray to her right. She was staring at the ceiling, which usually meant it was a bad idea to interrupt. I left it for a while and grabbed the bottle of scotch from the kitchen, poured a double and took the bottle with me back to the sofa. I let her stare at the ceiling for a few minutes and interrupted.

“Scotch?”