The Insider (16 page)

Sally glanced up from the railing. “Yes?”

“You’re very perceptive.”

“Oh?”

Jay nodded. “I do stupid things sometimes.”

“To impress people?”

“I don’t think so,” he said slowly.

She moved slightly closer. “Then why?”

He hesitated. “My little sister was a wonderful athlete.”

“The one who drowned.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “She and I were alone at the quarry that day. My parents had forbidden her to go there, even with me, but she was an incredible swimmer, almost as good as me even though she was so much younger. I mean, she could hold her breath forever, she could dive from the high board, she could—”

“I believe you,” Sally said gently, sliding her hand into his.

Jay cleared his throat. “It was terribly hot. One of those July days that makes you sweat while you’re just sitting in your chair. Our house didn’t have air-conditioning. It was like a furnace, and Phoebe kept—”

“Phoebe?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“She was a pretty girl.” Jay gazed across the river. “Anyway, she kept begging me to take her to the quarry, and I kept telling her we couldn’t go. But finally I gave in. She had that effect on me. She could get me to do anything. I had so much confidence in her.”

“But she got trapped underwater.”

“Yes.” Jay’s voice became hoarse. “The water was ginclear, and I saw she was in trouble about fifteen feet down. I tried to help her, but by the time I got her to the surface… she was gone.”

“I’m so sorry, Jay.” Sally squeezed his hand tightly. “You still feel guilty, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“But you shouldn’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was responsible for her.”

“Not so responsible that you should try to kill yourself by jumping up onto a parapet six hundred feet above the street.”

He shook his head. “It isn’t that. That’s not why I do those things.”

“Why then?”

“If I’d been braver, I might have saved her.”

“What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath. “I was timid as a kid. To get to her I had to swim through some of the old equipment. I was afraid that I’d get stuck myself.” He drew himself up. “I was afraid.”

“I can see why.”

“No, I mean I was afraid of a lot of things. I was not a courageous person. I backed down from a fight in front of the entire high school one time. It was humiliating.” He took a deep breath. “I hesitated going after Phoebe.” He clenched his teeth. “Those few seconds may have cost her life.”

Sally reached up and touched his scar. “So now you feel you have to prove to people that you aren’t afraid of anything.”

“I don’t care about other people. Just myself. I need to keep proving it to myself.”

For a long time they were quiet, listening to the sounds of the city.

“I’m glad you felt you could share that with me,” Sally finally said.

“I’ve never told anyone that.”

“But you still haven’t told me why you were trying to catch me in a lie during dinner,” Sally said softly.

Jay tapped the railing, then stopped when he remembered that Oliver did the same thing when he was nervous. “Do you recall when we were leaving Oliver’s place in the Austin Healey? I asked you to check the glove compartment for the registration.”

“Yes. I thought that was kind of silly because I knew you had already driven the car. I saw you come up the driveway.”

Jay nodded. “Yes, I was at the liquor store picking up a bottle of gin for Barbara. When I pulled into the store’s parking lot, I heard a cell phone ringing in the glove compartment. I answered the call thinking it was Oliver or Barbara, but it wasn’t.”

“Who was it?”

“A guy named Tony who thought I was Oliver and blurted out something about not being able to use some information. When Tony realized I wasn’t Oliver, he hung up very fast.” Jay watched the green and yellow lights of a tugboat churning upriver. “When I put the phone back, I saw an envelope and I opened it.”

“What was in it?”

“A single piece of paper with the name Bell Chemical on it. Bell is one of the companies Oliver had me purchase shares of last week.”

“Did you ever ask Oliver about the phone call or the envelope?”

“We talked about the phone call, but not the envelope. You should have seen Oliver when I told him the guy had said not to use the information. He looked like a deer in the headlights. He claimed the call had something to do with a condo he’s trying to buy in Manhattan, but I’m convinced that was crap.” Jay exhaled heavily.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t simply ask him about the envelope if you were so concerned.”

Jay’s eyes narrowed, then he smiled, a quick half grin that was barely discernible in the dim light. “Let’s be honest with each other, Sally. Oliver has guaranteed me a million dollars next January. The same amount he’s guaranteed you.” Jay paused, waiting for her acknowledgment. “Bullock tells me that McCarthy and Lloyd can extricate itself from the contract they made each of us sign. He claims there are safe harbors in it. Maybe you had an attorney review yours, but I was warned not to, and foolishly, I obeyed.”

Sally shook her head. “No, I didn’t have a lawyer look at mine, either. I got the same warning.”

“Well, according to Bullock, Oliver wants to pay only one of us in January.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Yes. At least that’s what Bullock said. I don’t like the guy much, but he seems to have Oliver’s ear.” Jay looked away. “You may not want to hear this, but if what Bullock says is true, I want that bonus to come to me.”

“Don’t think I’m just going to step out of the way and let you take it,” Sally warned. “I’m going to try to get it as hard as you are.”

“I don’t want to jeopardize my relationship with Oliver,” he said, choosing to ignore her challenge, “and given the type of person he is, questioning or not carrying out one of his direct orders would be tantamount to mutiny.”

“Probably,” Sally agreed.

“I stalled as long as I could, but when it came down to it, I had to pull the trigger on the Bell shares.”

“And now you’re regretting it.”

“Very much.” He pursed his lips. “I just want a few weeks to go by without a takeover announcement concerning Bell or Simons, then convince Oliver to dump the shares.”

She turned back toward the promenade railing. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but I can understand why all those things taken together could disturb you. And I truly appreciate your confiding in me.” Her voice turned tough again. “But I still don’t understand why you would be trying to catch me in some kind of lie. The only explanation I can come up with is that you think there’s some sort of conspiracy and I’m part of it,” she said bitterly. “That I’m working with Oliver to railroad you or something. Why else would you grill me about the phone being off the base and the computer being warm?”

He put his finger beneath her chin and turned her face back toward his. “If I believed there was a conspiracy— which I have to admit sounds a little silly when you say it like that—and if I believed you were part of it, would I have said all this to you?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped, angry again, pulling away from him. “I thought I did, but now I’m not sure.”

“That’s not fair. I’m just being careful.”

“You shouldn’t have to be careful with someone you care about.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

Before she could finish, Jay grabbed her and pulled her to him, locking his strong arms around her, pressing his lips to hers.

For a moment she struggled, fighting him, but then slowly she slipped her hands around his neck, pressed herself against him, and kissed him deeply.

CHAPTER 14

At five minutes past eight on Monday evening Jay rang the doorbell of a modest two-story brick house in a blue-collar Brooklyn neighborhood. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over a neatly manicured lawn stretching a short distance from the house to the narrow, car-lined street behind him. The doorbell made a buzzing sound inside, and after a few moments Jay heard footsteps moving toward the door. He stepped back on the concrete stoop as the front door opened. Before Jay stood a short man with gray hair and bloodshot eyes.

“Mr. Cooper?”

“Yes,” the man answered in a low voice.

It was dark inside the house except for a faint candle that was burning atop a foyer table. “My name is Jay West.”

The man’s face remained impassive. “Oh, yes, Abby mentioned you to us several times. You worked with her at McCarthy and Lloyd.”

“That’s right.”

The man glanced over his shoulder into the darkness, then stepped out onto the stoop and closed the front door. “Bob Cooper,” he said, offering his hand in a subdued manner.

Jay shook Abby’s father’s hand. “I’m glad to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Look, I realize this may seem a little strange,” Jay said. “My coming to your house unannounced, I mean.”

The man shrugged but said nothing.

“I didn’t want to call,” Jay continued, “because I felt that if I did that, I might alarm you, and I don’t think there’s any cause for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Abby hasn’t come to work for a few days,” he explained. “I’ve tried to reach her at her apartment several times, but she’s never there, or doesn’t answer. I’ve left several messages for her, but she hasn’t returned any of them. I wanted to see if you had heard from her.”

Cooper’s eyes dropped. “She won’t be returning your calls.” His voice was barely audible.

“What do you mean?”

He swallowed hard. “She’s dead,” he said, choking back tears.

The vision of Oliver forcing himself on Abby flashed back to him again. “What happened?” he gasped.

Cooper wiped tears from his eyes. “I don’t know. My wife and I were only notified this afternoon. The police found Abby’s body in a Dumpster in the Bronx. She’d been strangled.”

“God, no.” Jay placed a hand on Cooper’s narrow shoulder. He could feel the man shaking.

“Yes.” Cooper looked up at Jay, then away. “I’m sorry I can’t ask you in, but my wife’s in there with her sister. They’re pretty torn up. I don’t think they could handle visitors right now.”

“I understand.”

Abby hadn’t come into work on Wednesday, the day Jay and Sally had joined Oliver and Barbara on the sailboat. The afternoon before, he had watched Oliver and Abby in the storage room. As he stood on the stoop staring at Cooper, Jay replayed what he had heard and seen standing outside the storage room, as he had so many times in the past few days. There was something he should be remembering, something that might have significance. It was the same feeling he had experienced staring at his computer the morning Sally had left his apartment without awakening him. The sense that something was amiss.

Then Jay remembered. As he had first glanced through the tiny aperture between the door and the wall, he had heard Oliver say something to Abby about meeting him after work at the Plaza. Oliver might have seen Abby right before she was killed. In fact, he might have been the last person to see her.

Bullock sat in the conference room, feet up on the long wooden table, leaning back in his chair. Oliver sat slumped in a seat on the opposite side of the table, fiddling aimlessly with his tie.

“What did you want to tell me, Oliver?” Bullock asked impatiently. He was suffering from a sore throat and a slight fever, and he still had a pile of paperwork to get to before he could head home.

Oliver flung the end of his tie over one shoulder. “Kevin O’Shea called me an hour ago.”

Bullock looked up from the cuticle he’d been picking. He had heard panic in Oliver’s voice. “And?”

Oliver took several labored breaths in rapid succession, as if he was trying to remain calm.

Bullock removed his feet from the table, and they landed on the carpet with a dull thud. “Come on, Oliver. Talk to me.”

“O’Shea was calling to tell me that this afternoon two New York City police officers found…” Oliver swallowed his words and had to regroup. “They found Abby’s body in a Bronx Dumpster. Personal effects, including her purse, were also in the Dumpster, so it wasn’t a problem identifying her.” Oliver felt his lower lip beginning to tremble. “She’d been strangled.”

Bullock placed both hands on the table, the pain in his throat and the fever forgotten. “You’re kidding,” he mumbled.

Oliver shut his eyes tightly. “Do you think I’d kid about something like this?”

“No,” Bullock said quietly. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I know you cared about her.”

Oliver nodded. “I did, I really did.” For the first time in many years he felt himself surrendering to tears. “I don’t think I knew how much I cared about her until right now.”

“How did O’Shea find out about Abby’s body being discovered?” Bullock asked shakily. It unnerved him to see Oliver so upset.

“How the hell should I know?” Oliver yelled. “All those law enforcement people talk to each other.” He could barely think straight. “Maybe it came across his computer or something.”

“What did O’Shea say when he talked to you?” Bullock pressed. “What were his exact words?”

“He was very quick. He just said that they’d found her body.” Oliver glanced at Bullock. He had recognized a strange tone in Bullock’s voice. “What’s your problem?”

“I think it’s odd that he called you so fast. How would he know the Abby Cooper they found in the Dumpster was the same Abby who worked here?”

“He knows about everybody in the group, Carter. He’s done thorough background checks on all of us. He would have recognized her home address and put two and two together.” Oliver tapped the table. “I think he was simply giving me an FYI. He’s carrying on an investigation of our group, if you really want to call it that, and he probably wanted me to know what was going on so that I wasn’t taken off guard when I heard about it. There’s a lot happening around here.” Oliver tapped the table harder. “He was probably worried that if I was taken off guard, I might slip up or something. Remember, his ass is on the line, too. He’s the point person on the investigation. If the lid is blown off this thing and the media finds out what’s really going on here, he’ll take the fall. I know he’s only a cog in this whole thing, but you better believe the higher-ups won’t take the blame for the arrangement.” Talking seemed to help. Suddenly Oliver felt a little better.

“Maybe,” Bullock said, not totally convinced. “I still think it’s odd that he called you right away.”

Oliver put his elbows down on the table and rubbed his forehead. His entire body had gone numb. “Oh, God.”

“What is it?” Bullock saw Oliver’s hands trembling.

“Carter, I’ve got a problem.”

“What is it?”

Oliver felt his emotional foundations giving way. “I was with Abby on Tuesday evening,” he whispered.

“With… Abby?”

“Yes, at the Plaza.”

“With her, as in sleeping with her?” He had known for some time that Oliver was having an affair with Abby.

“Yes.”

“Jesus, Oliver.” Bullock rolled his eyes and slammed the table.

“I know.” Oliver grabbed his hair. “I’m an idiot, but what the hell am I going to do?”

“Did you use protection?”

Oliver shook his head. “No.”

The room fell silent except for the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead.

Finally Bullock spoke. “They’ll do an autopsy,” he warned. “They’ll find your semen inside her.”

“Yes.” Oliver nodded, staring wide-eyed at Bullock.

“But they’ll have to know to look for you. Does anyone other than me know you were having an affair with Abby?”

“Barbara suspected.”

“Well, that’s—” Bullock stopped speaking.

Oliver glanced up. “What?”

Bullock didn’t answer.

“Carter, what is it?” But he already knew what Bullock was thinking. He could see the look of horror in the other man’s expression. “No, Carter.”

“When did you last see Abby?” Bullock asked quietly.

“Eight, nine o’clock Tuesday night. Sometime around then. We finished in bed and I left almost right away. She said she was going to stay for a while.”

“Did anyone see you leave?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Do you think that resignation letter was authentic?” Bullock asked. “The one you showed us last week.”

“Hell, yes, I think it was authentic.” Oliver’s stomach was churning. He could feel the nausea building. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Did Abby sign it?”

“Yes—no… I’m not certain.” He couldn’t remember. His mind was tumbling into vapor lock. Bullock was a friend. Why the hell was he asking these questions and looking at him that way?

“Get the letter,” Bullock ordered. “Let’s see it.”

Oliver shook his head. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s gone.” His voice was trembling. “I had it locked in a drawer. Now it’s gone.”

Bullock’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really expect me to believe that, Oliver?”

“Why wouldn’t you believe it?” he yelled. “It’s the truth.” His body went limp and he slumped back into a chair. Bullock wasn’t buying anything. “Carter, I didn’t kill her,” he whispered. “You have to believe that.”

Bullock stood up slowly. “I think you have a problem, Oliver.” He stared at Oliver for a few seconds, then walked from the room.

Oliver let his head sink to the table and for several moments kept his eyes shut tightly. Then he raced for the men’s room, clutching his stomach.