Most people in Lesley’s position wouldn’t have been bothered by his Daniel Parmitt imitation, wouldn’t have noticed anything wrong with it. Of the few people who might have picked up his errors, or seen a glimpse of his actual self under his performance, what were the likely reactions? First, most common, to do nothing, to chalk it up to eccentricity. Second, if really snagged by some false note somewhere, to mention it to a friend, somebody in the office, or a member of the family at home, and maybe even follow up with a conversation with a local cop; more likely if the person already knew a local cop. But the least probable reaction, Parker thought, was what Lesley had done: follow the ringer, try to figure him out, try to use him for her own purposes, which was to get out of this dead-end life and start over somewhere else.
So she was quick, and she didn’t let her fear hold her back. And she didn’t intend to get cute and try to use sex as a weapon, as she’d demonstrated last night by her awkwardness and discomfort when she’d had, very briefly, to strip.
So did all that mean she was reliable, or did it mean she was a loose cannon? There was nothing in her house to tell him for sure. For the moment, then, make use of her, but keep watch.
Before he left the house, he phoned her at the real estate office. ‘Lesley, it’s Daniel Parmitt.’
‘Oh, Mr Parmitt,’ she said. ‘I was wondering if I’d hear from you again.’
‘Today,’ he said, ‘I’m interested in looking at some condos.’
‘Very different.’
‘Very. Around four o’clock? You have a nice one to show me?’
‘Does it need to be furnished?’
‘Doesn’t matter.’
‘Good,’ she said, sounding relieved. ‘There’s a lovely two-bedroom in the Bromwich, ocean view. I could meet you in the lobby.’
‘Fine,’ he said, and hung up, and drove the Subaru back to the airport. He left it in its old spot in long-term parking, picked up the Jaguar, and drove to the exit.
This clerk was a Hispanic woman, chunky and bored, who said, ‘You come in today? This the long-term.’
‘I forgot my passport, gotta go back for it, screws up the whole day.’
‘Tough,’ she said, and gave him his change.
6
The condos along the narrow strip of island south of the main part of Palm Beach yearn toward a better life: something English, somewhere among the landed gentry. The craving is there in the names of the buildings: the Windsor, the Sheffield, the Cambridge. But whatever they call themselves, they’re still a line of pale concrete honeycombs on a sandbar in the sun.
Parker arrived at the Bromwich at five after four. Two Hispanic gardeners worked on the long bed of fuchsia and impatiens along the low ornamental wall in front with the place’s name on it in block gold letters. Signs at the entrance indicated residents’ parking to the right, visitors’ to the left. The visitors’ area was farther from the building.
Parker drove to the gleaming blacktop expanse of the visitors’ parking lot and left the Jag next to Lesley’s blue Lexus. He walked through the sun to the boxy cream-colored building, seeing none of the residents, though the other lot was full of their cars, mostly big old-fashioned boats, traditional Detroit iron.
The lobby was amber faux marble with a uniformed black security guard at a long chest-high kidney shaped faux-marble desk. The lobby seating was several round puffs of magenta sofa; Lesley rose from one of them. Today her suit was peach, her pin a gold rose. ‘Mr Parmitt,’ she said with her working-hours smile, and came forward to shake his hand. ‘Right on time.’
‘Afternoon, Ms Mackenzie,’ he said. Her hand was soft and dry and without pressure.
She turned to the guard to say, ‘We’re looking at 11-C, Jimmy.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He gave Parker a uninterested look, then looked downward again. He had the Globenewspaper open on his desk, among the phone systems and security screens.
The elevators were around behind the desk. As they rode up together, she said, ‘You don’t want a condo, you want a place to talk.’
He shrugged. ‘What else?’
‘So I’m hired,’ she said with a bland smile, as though it hardly mattered.
He said, ‘It doesn’t work exactly that way.’
‘You’ll explain it,’ she said, and the elevator slowed to a stop.
He waited for her to lead the way, but instead of leaving the elevator she held down the button that would keep the door open and said, ‘If you have to check me for a wire again today, we’ll leave now.’
He shook his head. ‘Once was enough.’
‘It certainly was,’ she said, and led the way out of the elevator and down to unlock them into 11-C.
It was completely empty, as bright and bare as the beach down below. Their shoes made echoing sounds on the blond wood floor, bouncing off the hard white walls and, in the living room, the uncurtained wall of glass doors that opened to the balcony. The place had been repainted, to make it ready for sale, and the smell of the paint was a faint tang in the air.
Parker crossed to open the sliding balcony door. It was hot out here, but with a breeze. The afternoon shadow of the building lay on the beach down below, where no one sat or swam.
Pink plastic-sheet walls on both sides shielded the view of the balconies to right and left, and openwork iron benches were built into both of those walls. Pointing to one of them, ‘We’ll sit here,’ he said.
