The Wrong Man: A Novel of Suspense (24 page)

“Oh, that would definitely work. And then that just leaves the doctor. I’m going to call today and see if I can reel him back in.”

Kit sprang from her chair, ready to move into action, but she could see that Baby still had something on her mind.

“I see your wheels turning.”

“I’ve been wondering about X. The infamous Garrett Kelman. He who rules by the spear.”

“You mean, has my view of him changed?”

“Yes, now that you’ve learned what he’s done. Will you follow up with him?”

“I don’t think he wants anything to do with me at this point. And maybe that’s for the best. I’m pretty sure he’s not a murderer or thief, but he may still be a scoundrel.”

But when she returned to the guest bedroom, she realized that despite what she’d said to Baby about Kelman, the pang of disappointment she’d been feeling had intensified, like a burn exposed to sunlight. From the moment she had met Kelman in Florida, something had stirred in her, and it hadn’t just been lust. There’d been an emotional undercurrent as well, which for weeks had been burrowed beneath her anger and fear. When they had kissed the other night, it seemed to suggest that there might be a chance for them to restore that connection in spite of the chaos all around them. But by failing to believe him, she’d eliminated that chance.

She changed into jeans and set up shop again at the dining room table. Over the past two days, she’d felt an inertia gaining hold on her, but it was gone now, as if swept away by a blustery gust of April wind. She left a message for Keith Holt. She emailed the Greenwich Village clients with updates on the missing rug and duvet and to say that Baby had offered to add her input during the final stage and that she would be picking up a few small pieces and accessories to show them for consideration.

Then she set to work on the plan for Barry. Baby used one of her large walk-in closets as a workroom and Kit found enough pinstripe and herringbone fabric swatches in one of the plastic tubs in there to give Barry an idea of her theme. She also went through old shelter magazines and tore out pages that showed the kind of furniture shapes and accessories she had in mind. In a near frenzy, she mounted everything onto boards. Close
to finished, she emailed Barry again, this time inviting him to come to Baby’s apartment for cocktails and a presentation on Wednesday at six if his schedule permitted.

At around seven, when she was stapling the last pieces onto the boards, her phone rang and she saw that it was Holt’s number. Okay, good, she told herself.

“Nice to get your message,” he said. “How’ve you been?” Pleasant enough, but definitely not as engaged sounding as before. If she were going to regain her footing with him, she’d have to play it carefully.

“Good. I just thought I’d check in and see how you were doing. I’d love the chance to talk more about your clippings when you have the chance.”

“I’d like that, too,” he said, warmer now.

“Shall we set a time?”

“It’s probably best if we hold off for a couple of weeks. I’ve decided to go ahead with that idea I mentioned to you. I’m seriously considering buying a new place that’s more open and modern. In fact, I’ve even seen a couple of lofts this week.”

“How exciting,” she said, disguising her dismay. He’d mentioned the idea as a possibility, but it had seemed fairly remote. If he did go through with purchasing a new apartment, he wouldn’t need her services until after the closing and that could be months away.

“Yes, and I’m going to see if I can sell my place with most of the furnishings. That way, I start totally fresh. I should probably redo the clipping file once I settle on a place.”

“That makes sense.” She could feel the project slipping out of her grasp, like water through her fingers. “But the clips you pulled could actually be of value as you look at lofts. They can help direct you to a place that has the right vibe for you.”

“Good point,” he said.

“Here’s an idea,” Kit said, scrambling a bit now. “When you
narrow the hunt down to a few choices, why don’t you have me take a look with you and offer my input. I’d be happy to do it free of charge.”

“I’d hate to have you go to all that trouble.”

“It wouldn’t be any trouble. And I might have some insight that proves valuable.”

She could almost hear him deliberating.

“All right then. I may actually be taking a second look at a spot this week. Thursday night. Are you free?”

“Yes, actually I am. I’d love to join you.”

“Okay, I’ll call you with the details later in the week.”

Ten minutes later she wandered into Baby’s study, where she was just wrapping up a call herself.

“Well, to borrow one of your favorite phrases, I think I’ve managed to pull my ass out of the fire. I just heard back from Barry and he’s coming over Wednesday—so get the cocktail shaker ready. And the good doctor may be back on board.”

“Excellent. How about dinner then?”

“Let me fix it. I ordered groceries online and they should be here shortly.”

There was still, however, one call she wanted to make before the meal. Even as she’d torn through her work that afternoon, she’d found it hard to put Garrett Kelman out of her thoughts. She might not have total trust in him, but she believed him far more than she had a day ago, and things just felt unresolved between them. She decided to call him, to at least thank him for doing what he’d promised. Grabbing a breath, she tapped his number on her phone.

He didn’t answer. She reached only the automated voice asking that she leave a reply.

“Garrett, please call me,” she said. “I know you did what you said you would. I realize we’re not supposed to discuss the case, but I’d like to just touch base.”

The evening passed with no return call. Five hours later, as she switched off the light on the bedside table, she was pretty sure there wouldn’t be one—tonight or ever.

And though Kelman would be out of her life, the crisis he’d instigated would continue to cast its pall over everything. She’d be looking over her shoulder for as long as she could imagine.

She tried to stay busy over the next two days, fixating on work, but it grew harder again. There was only so much she could accomplish holed up at Baby’s, and many of her files and supplies were back at the office. She decided that on Thursday, after her presentation to Barry was out of the way, she would sneak downtown to her apartment. She’d pick up fresh clothes, as well as the stuff she needed for work, and the ton of mail that must have accumulated.

The idea of going home, even for a short while, frightened her. As far as she knew, people from Ithaka were keeping an eye on her place, banking on the fact that at some point she’d have to return. She called Andre, her super, and asked if he could meet her there at ten on Thursday and hang around while she let herself into the apartment. That would at least provide an ounce of security.

Wednesday was a good day for business. Holt called to confirm meeting her in Tribeca Thursday night to view the loft he was interested in. She smiled in relief, anxious to hold on to the assignment. Because the building had no doorman, he suggested she wait at a nearby coffee shop and that he’d call when he was close. That suited her just fine. It meant she wouldn’t be left alone in the foyer of a strange building.

The bronzed hotel man finally returned Baby’s call and asked for a Friday appointment. He wasn’t expecting a presentation at this point, he said, just more discussion. Baby suggested that on Thursday afternoon she and Kit spend at least an hour brainstorming so that they had a few ideas to dazzle him with.

The meeting with Barry that night went off perfectly. He arrived exactly at six, went wide-eyed when Baby’s housekeeper entered the room hoisting a silver tray of sparkling cocktail glasses, the famed almond-crusted salmon ball ringed with water crackers, and a silver bowl of multicolored olives. He looked even more stunned as Baby swept in a moment later in a cream-colored caftan, parts of it billowing like sails on a schooner.

Kit and Baby exchanged amused glances when they realized that Barry was wearing a tie in a fabric practically identical to one Kit was suggesting for a throw pillow. She took that as a good omen, and it turned out to be one.

“Well, this was certainly worth the wait,” he told her after he’d reviewed the presentation. “It’s fantastic. When can we get started? This is my busiest season, but I don’t want to delay.”

“We’ll begin immediately,” Kit said. A lot of shopping would have to be farmed out, but he didn’t have to know that.

After he departed, she sighed and turned to Baby.

“Well, there’s one down at least.”

As soon as she woke on Thursday morning, she could feel her apprehension start to build, like the distant roar of a train that would soon come tearing through a tunnel. She’d be heading downtown, and not only would she be exposed, but she’d also have to face the place where Avery had died.

At least Andre was good to his word and was waiting in front of the building when her cab pulled up. As Kit stepped out, she quickly scanned the area. The only people around were the types she was used to seeing in the neighborhood day in and
day out—black-clad, unhurried-looking Nolita residents and a cluster of tourists with a huge city map.

Andre greeted her, opened the door to the lobby, and immediately pointed out the security camera he and his son had installed.

“It’s such a terrible thing, the murder of that girl,” he said as she dug out the letters and catalogs jammed in her mailbox. “The police—do they have any suspects?”

“Not that I’m aware of, Andre. Have they been around?”

“Yes, here and there. Asking questions of tenants and me and my son. I’m just thankful my son was in Brooklyn that night and people saw him. You know how innocent people can get snared in these things.”

“Don’t I,” she said ruefully.

Andre had summoned the elevator. As they stepped inside, Kit’s gaze flew first thing to the red stop button on the brass panel. She wondered if the police were working with the same theory that Kelman had suggested, that someone had stopped the elevator that night, forcing Avery to use the stairs.

As they exited on the fifth floor, she couldn’t help but glance at the stairwell door. Her guilt over Avery’s murder was still raw. Part of her longed to be rid of it, but that seemed callous.

Once they reached her apartment, she saw that the customized door had been installed, and Andre handed over the new keys. She unlocked the door and after they entered, they both looked cautiously around. Nothing had been disturbed since she was last there.

“You haven’t seen anyone suspicious around, have you?” she asked Andre. “Any men who don’t look like they should be in the building?”

“No, and I’ve made a point of being here a lot. My son, too. And I check the tape from the camera each day. Nothing suspicious.”

She sighed. What he’d shared wasn’t good for much, but it smoothed the edges on her nerves just a little.

“It will probably take at least thirty minutes to pack up my stuff. Do you mind waiting around? I could use your help taking everything downstairs.”

“Of course. I have work to do on the third floor. Just call me on my mobile when you’re ready.”

A moment later she had her apartment to herself. Her response, as she wandered through the space, surprised her. She had thought her fear would color everything, ruin it for her. But it felt so sweet to be back inside, to see and touch her possessions. The air was still faintly redolent with the scent from the fig candles she burned most nights when she was home alone. Unexpectedly she felt a surge of anger. They wanted to take all this from her, she thought. But she wasn’t going to let them.

She packed quickly, jamming as much as possible into her backup suitcase, including clothes she’d need as the weather warmed up over the next couple of weeks. When it was time to retrieve items from the office, she felt herself go on higher alert. But after letting herself in, she discovered that everything appeared as she’d left it. Still moving quickly, she loaded two tote bags with files and supplies, including sketching paper, fabric samples, and extra fan decks of paint chips.

Mission completed, she called Andre. As good as it felt for her to be home, she didn’t want to linger. He returned immediately, carrying several packages, one of which was a long packing roll addressed to Baby that she realized was from Colin, the main draftsman they used. Dara had been sending messengers down to collect any packages that had arrived, but the drawings must have slipped through the cracks.

“Oh, thanks, Andre,” she said. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep holding on to packages as they arrive, and we’ll arrange to have them picked up.”

“Are you ever coming back, though?” he asked. With a super it was impossible to tell if questions sprang from genuine concern or a need for information that might impact him in the long run.

“Of course, I’ll be back,” she answered hurriedly, though she hadn’t a clue what the future held. “I’m just staying with a friend for now and working from her apartment.”

“That reminds me, a client came by the other day—on Tuesday, I think. A woman.”

It must have been one of Baby’s, Kit realized, because she couldn’t imagine which of hers it could be.

“Did she leave her name?”

“No, not a name. She was tall, with long black hair. A very attractive lady. The type with money. She said she wanted to see you.”

Sasha
, she realized with a start.

“What did you tell her, Andre?”

“That you were away and she should try you by phone.”

She’d never thought to caution Andre to keep quiet.

“That’s all?”

“She wanted to know where you were,” he told her. “I told her you’d left with one of your co-workers. But that I didn’t have any idea where you were staying.”

Kit let out a ragged sigh, feeling her fear spike. The word co-worker might prompt Sasha to put two and two together.

“Nothing else? That was all she said?”

“There was just one other thing,” he said, his brow furrowing. “She asked a funny question.”

“Did she want Mrs. Meadow’s home address?”

“No. She asked if a man with red hair had been staying with you. If you now lived together.”

Kit stared at him, stunned by the craziness of his revelation. Sasha had come down here trying to figure out if Kelman was camped out with her. If Sasha was really involved with
him, how could she be wondering where he was living? It suggested that Kelman had told her the truth. Sasha was obsessed with him.

But what
else
did it mean? Was Sasha also doing Wainwright’s bidding, attempting to suss out her whereabouts?

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her I didn’t discuss my tenants’ personal affairs. But
will
there be someone living with you? I need to know for the lease, of course.”

Kit shook her head.

“No, no one is going to be living with me, Andre. And certainly not a red-haired man.”

“All right then.” He shrugged. “You know what my son says—though I don’t think it’s true. Most people are descended from monkeys, but redheads are descended from cats.”

She laughed in spite of herself. Maybe that explained a few things, she thought.

She and the super lugged her belongings downstairs. Before she closed the door of the taxi, she pressed twenty-five dollars into Andre’s hand for his efforts, and urged him to say nothing about her to anyone. As the taxi made its way north, Andre’s revelation ate at her. If Sasha had deduced from his comment that Kit was at Baby’s, she might be watching the apartment building on Park Avenue, and that meant Baby was exposed, too.

“What’s she up to, do you think?” Baby asked after Kit shared the new development.

“I don’t know. It could be that she’s in the thick of things and has been told to play detective and figure out where I am. As a potential client of mine, she’s got a cover. I’m just worried she may have deduced I’m staying with you.”

“This place is like a fortress, but we should take extra precautions. Write down a description of her and let me go speak to
the concierge. I’ll tell him to be on the lookout for anyone like that. I’ll say it’s a client who’s gone off her rocker.”

After Baby headed downstairs, Kit wandered into the guest room. There was an urgent call she needed to make, one she’d considered the entire cab ride north. She dug out her phone and tapped Garrett Kelman’s number. It didn’t surprise her when she reached his voicemail.

“Garrett,” she said. “I know you’re not keen on speaking to me, but I need your advice. Sasha Glen has been snooping around my apartment building. It’s important that I understand more about the problems you had with her. Can you get in touch with me, please?”

He called back two minutes later.

“What do you mean snooping around?” he asked. His voice was cool, distant sounding, but she could detect a note of alarm.

She related what her super had told her.

“Did you ever listen to the voicemail message I left you—the one about Sasha?” he said.

“Yes. But I admit, I was reluctant to believe it. Until now.”

“You need to watch out for her, Kit. Stay as far away from her as possible.”

“Do you think she’s involved in the insider trading?”

“I was wrong about Matt Healy so who am I to say for sure, but my guess is that she’s too much of a loose cannon for anyone to have included her in that kind of scheme. There’s something truly off with her.”

“What could she want with me?”

“She may have figured out, from things she’s overheard, that we’ve been in contact. And she sees you as a threat.”

“But why would she jump to the conclusion that we’re involved?”

“It wouldn’t take much for her to decide that. Like I told you in my message, I went to bed with her just a couple of times and
she became fixated. She imagined this whole relationship with me that didn’t exist.”

“And now she’s imagining you and I are together.”

“Sounds like it. What were you doing down at your apartment? I thought you were going to be careful. I know this is frustrating, Kit, but you just have to be patient and watch your back at all times.”

“I
am
going to watch my back. But I refuse to shut my entire life down. Who knows how long this is going to take.”

“I think things will start to move,” he said, reiterating what Nat Naylor had said. “Ithaka is wise to this, and the FBI will want to get in there, look at records.”

“If Ithaka has already destroyed records, will your evidence be the only thing the government has to go on?”

“Ideally, they’ll find corroborating evidence. My guess is that they’ll try to get a doctor to flip, someone who provided info to Kennelly and Lister.”

“That old guy you spoke to on the phone?”

“Yes, or maybe someone else on the advisory committee who might have been in on it.”

She sensed he was ready to end the call. No, she decided. She couldn’t let him go.

“Garrett, would you be willing to meet? Just to talk. Not about the case, but I feel there are things we need to say to each other.”