“So,” I said. “Tell me about all this money that a twenty-three-year-old graduate student suddenly began investing in a management account.”
He swiveled his chair sideways and brought the file up on his computer.
“Cash,” he said. “Always in the amount of nine thousand.”
“Cash?”
“Well, bank checks.”
“Close enough,” I said. “What bank?”
“Endicott Trust,” Morgan said. “You don’t think he was a suicide?”
“No,” I said. “I think he was murdered.”
“Jesus,” Morgan said.
“Always the same bank?”
“Yes.”
“Always nine thousand dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds like he was avoiding the cash reporting laws.”
“It does,” Morgan said.
“Would he have paid cash for the bank check?”
“Probably. I can call over there for you.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
While he called, I looked out the window of his office and into the window of the office across from his. There was a guy in shirtsleeves and suspenders on the phone and another guy looking out the window at me looking out the window at him. Was there a guy in shirtsleeves and suspenders talking on the phone on the other side of the building while another guy stared out the window at a guy in shirtsleeves… I shook my head and turned back to Morgan.
“Thank you, Bricky,” he said. “I owe you lunch.”
He hung up and turned to me.
“Cash money,” Morgan said. “In hundreds, ninety of them. Several times a week. Each time he’d get a bank check made out to him.”
“How often did he deposit with you?”
Morgan looked at his screen for a few moments.
“Averaged about twice a month.”
“So what did he do with the rest?”
“Wine, women, and song?” Morgan said.
“Probably not women,” I said.
Morgan shrugged.
“Cigarettes, whiskey, and wild, wild men?” he said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “If he was going to spend it, why did he convert it to bank checks?”
“Maybe put it in his checking account.”
“Why not just deposit the cash?” I said.
Morgan shrugged.
“Hey, I’m a simple stockbroker,” he said. “You’re the fucking sleuth.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” I said. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
When I got back from Hall, Peary, KC Roth was waiting in the hall outside my office door wearing an ethereal- looking white summer dress. She appeared not to be wearing stockings. Her legs were tanned. She had on white high heels with no back. Even in the harsh fluorescent light she looked like a slumming angel.
“We must talk,” she said.
I unlocked my door. KC preceded me into the office. As soon as the door closed behind us, KC turned and pressed herself against me and put her arms around my neck and kissed me urgently.
“Kiss me back,” she murmured.
After a while she moved her mouth away and whispered, “Hold me.”
She moved her body against mine in several different directions. I had never figured out how women did that. On the other hand I’d never actually hugged a man. Maybe they did it too and I didn’t know it.
“I’ve wanted you since I saw you,” KC whispered.
