Shut Your Eyes Tight

business it pretended to be in, because Karnala was connected to the Skards, and the Skards were rumored to be involved in a criminal sex enterprise, and Melanie Strum’s murder was a sex crime. In fact, the Edward Vallory dimension and Mapleshade’s admissions policy suggested that everything connected with the case so far was in some way a sex crime or the result of a sex crime.

Gurney was aware that the logical chain back to Karnala was less than perfect, but demanding perfect logic (much as the concept appealed to him) did not lead to solutions, it led to paralysis. He’d learned that the key question in police work, as in life, was not “Am I absolutely sure of what I believe?” The question that mattered was “Am I sure enough to act on that belief?”

In this case Gurney’s answer was yes. He was willing to bet that there was something about Karnala that would unnerve Jordan Ballston. According to the old clock over the sideboard, it was just after ten when he placed a call to the Palm Beach Police Department to get Ballston’s unlisted number.

No one assigned to the Strum case was on duty that night, but the desk sergeant was able to give him Darryl Becker’s cell number.

Surprisingly, Becker picked up on the first ring.

Gurney explained what he wanted.

“Ballston’s not talking to anybody,” said Becker testily. “Communications go in and out through Markham, Mull & Sternberg, his main law firm. Thought I’d made that clear.”

“I may have a way of getting through to him.”

“How?”

“I’m going to toss a bomb through his window.”

“What kind of bomb?”

“The kind he’ll want to talk to me about.”

“This some kind of game, Gurney? I had a long day. I’d like some facts.”

“You sure about that?”

Becker was silent.

“Look, if I can knock this scumbag off balance, that’s a plus for everyone. Worst case, we’re maybe back where we started. All you’re giving me is a phone number, no official authorization to do anything, so if there’s any fallout at all, which I don’t think there will be, it doesn’t land on you. In fact, I’ve already forgotten in advance where I got the number from.”

There was another short silence, followed by a few clicks on a keypad, followed by Becker’s voice reading off a number that began with a Palm Beach area code. Then the connection was broken.

Gurney spent the next several minutes picturing and then immersing himself in a simple version of the kind of layered undercover persona he advocated in his academy lectures-in this case a reptilian ice man, lurking under a thin veneer of civilized manners.

Once he was satisfied with his sense of the attitude and tone, he activated the ID blocker on his phone and made the call to the Palm Beach number. It went straight into voice mail.

A spoiled, imperious voice announced, “This is Jordan. If you wish to receive a response, please leave a substantive message regarding the subject of your call.” He managed to imbue the please with a grating condescension that reversed its normal meaning.

Gurney spoke deliberately and a little awkwardly, as though he found the intricacies of polite speech a strange and difficult dance. He also added the subtlest hint of a Southern European accent. “The subject of my call is your relationship with Karnala Fashion, which I need to discuss with you as soon as possible. I’ll call you back in approximately thirty minutes. Please be available to answer the phone, and I’ll be more… substantive… at that time.”

Gurney was making some major assumptions: that Ballston was at home, as the stipulations of his bail arrangement required, that a man in his perilous position would be screening his calls and checking his messages obsessively, and that how he chose to handle the promised call thirty minutes later would reveal the nature of his involvement with Karnala.

Making one assumption was risky. Making three was crazy.

Chapter 58

Into action

At 10:58 P.M., Gurney made his second call. It was picked up after the third ring.

“This is Jordan.” The live voice sounded stiffer, older than the one on the recorded greeting.

Gurney grinned. It appeared that Karnala was indeed the magic word. Having hit it on the first shot gave him a burst of adrenaline. He felt like he’d gained entry to a high-stakes tournament in which the challenge was to deduce the rules of the game from the behavior of your opponent. He closed his eyes and stepped into his snake-pretending-to-be-harmless persona.

“Hello, Jordan. How are you this evening?”

“Fine.”

Gurney said nothing.

“What… what’s this about?”

“What do you think?”

“What? Who am I speaking to?”

“I’m a police officer, Jordan.”

“I have nothing to say to the police. That’s been made clear by-”

Gurney broke in. “Not even about Karnala?”

There was a pause. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Gurney sighed, made a bored little sucking noise with his teeth.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ballston reiterated.

If he really didn’t, thought Gurney, he’d have hung up by now. Or he never would have taken the call. “Well, Jordan, the thing is, if you had any information you were willing to share, perhaps something could be worked out to your advantage.”

Ballston hesitated. “Look… uh, why don’t you give me your name, Officer?”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Sorry? I don’t…”

“See, Jordan, this is a preliminary exploration here. You understand what I’m saying?”

“I’m not sure I do.”

Gurney sighed again, as though speech itself were a burden. “No formal offer can be made without some indication that it would be seriously considered. A willingness to provide useful information about Karnala Fashion could result in a very different prosecutorial attitude toward your case, but we would need to feel a sense of cooperation from you before we discuss the possibilities. I’m sure you understand.”

“No, I really don’t.” Ballston’s voice was brittle.

“No?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never heard of Caramel Fashion, or whatever the name of it is. So it’s impossible to tell you anything about it.”

Gurney laughed softly. “Very good, Jordan. That’s very good.”

“I’m serious. I know nothing about that company, that name, whatever it is.”

“That’s good to know.” Gurney let a glimpse of the reptile creep into his voice. “That’s good for you. Good for everybody.”

The glimpse seemed to have a stunning effect. Ballston was absolutely quiet.

“You still with us, Jordan?”

“Yes.”

“So we got that piece of it out of the way, right?”

“Piece of it?”