Jake picked up his burger and took a bite. A big bite. Half the burger vanished. 'He couldn't have,' he said.
'Excuse me?'
'No way he could have stayed out of trouble this long. Impossible.'
'Hold up. Did I miss something here?'
'Officially the police are still looking,' Jake said. 'But unofficially they're sure he's dead. The kid was a dumb punk. He couldn't find his ass with both hands, never mind hide from a nationwide dragnet'
'So what happened?'
'Rumor has it the senator got a favor from the mob. They knocked him off.'
'Senator Cross put out a hit on him?'
'What, that surprises you? The guy's a politician. That's like a step below child molester.'
'Weren't you
Jake nodded. 'There you go.'
Myron risked a bite of his sandwich. Tasted a bit like a sink sponge. 'Do you have a physical description of Errol Swade?' he asked, almost hoping the answer was no.
'I got better. I got Swade's mugshot.' Jake dusted his hands off, rubbed them on his shirt for good measure. Then he reached into the folder and withdrew a photograph. He handed it to Myron. Myron tried not to appear too eager.
It wasn't Duane.
Not even close. Not even with plastic surgery. For one, Errol Swade was much lighter skinned. Swade's head was shaped like a block, completely different from Duane's. His eyes were spaced too far apart. Everything was different. His height was listed as six-four, three inches taller than Duane. Can't fake being shorter.
Myron almost sighed with relief. 'Does the name Valerie Simpson pop up in that file?' he asked.
Jake's eyes caught a little fire. 'Who?'
'You heard me.'
'Golly, Myron, that wouldn't be the same Valerie Simpson who was murdered yesterday?'
'By coincidence it is. Is her name in there?'
He handed Myron half the file. 'Hell if I know. Help me look.'
They went through it. Valerie's name was only on one sheet. A party guest list. Her name along with a hundred others. Myron jotted down the names and addresses of the witnesses to the murder – three friends of Alexander Cross's. Nothing else of much interest in the file.
'So,' Jake said, 'what does the lovely and dead Valerie Simpson have to do with this?'
'I don't know.'
'Jesus Christ.' Jake shook his head. 'You still yanking my chain?'
'I'm not yanking anything.'
'What have you got so far?'
'Less man nothing.'
'That's what you said about Kathy Culver.'
'But this isn't your case, Jake.'
'Maybe I can help.'
'I really don't have anything. Valerie Simpson visited my office a few days ago. She wanted to make a comeback, but somebody killed her instead. I want to know who, that's all.'
'You're full of shit.'
Myron shrugged.
'The TV said something about a stalker doing the job,' Jake said.
'Might be him. Probably is.'
Silence.
'You're holding back again,' Jake said. 'Just like with Kathy Culver.'
'It's confidential.'
'You're not going to tell me?'
'Nope. It's confidential.'
'Protecting someone again?'
'Confidential,' Myron said. 'As in not to be divulged. Communicated in the strictest of confidence. A secret'
'Fine, be that way,' Jake said. 'So how's your sandwich?'
Myron nodded. 'Maybe the ambience isn't so good, but at least the food stinks.'
Jake laughed. 'Hey, you got tickets to the Open?'
'Yeah.'
'How about getting me two?'
'For when?'
'The last Saturday.'
The men's semis and women's finals. 'Tough day,' Myron said.
'But not for a big-time agent like yourself.'
'Then we'll be even?'
'Yeah.'
'I'll leave them at the on-call window.'
'Make sure they're good seats.'
'Who you taking?'
'My son Gerard.'
Myron had played ball against Gerard in college. Gerard was a bull. No finesse about his game. 'He still working homicide in New York?'
'Yep.'
'Can he do me a little favor?'
'Shit. Like what?'
'The cop on Valerie's murder is a devout asshole.'
'And you want to know what they have.'
'Yeah.'
'All right. I'll ask Gerard to give you a call.'
Chapter 10
'Messages?'
Esperanza nodded. 'About a million of them.'
Myron fingered through the pile. 'Any word on Eddie Crane?'
'You're having dinner with him and his folks.'
He looked up. 'When?'
'Tonight. Seven-thirty. At La Reserve. I already made a reservation. Make sure you use Win's name.'
Win's name carried weight at many of New York 's finest restaurants. 'You realize, of course, that you're a genius.'
She nodded. 'Yeah.'
'I want you to come too.'
'Can't. School.' Esperanza went to law school at night.
'Is Eddie still being coached by Pavel Menansi?' Myron asked.
'Yeah, why?'
'He and I had a discussion last night at the Open.'
'What about?'
'He used to coach Valerie.'
'And you two 'discussed' that?'
Myron nodded.
'May I assume you wowed him with your usual charm?'
'Something like that.'
'So we don't have a chance with Eddie,' she said.
'Not necessarily. If Eddie was really close to Pavel, then TruPro would have him signed by now. Maybe there's some friction there.'
'Almost forgot.' Esperanza picked up a small stack of papers. 'This just came in by fax. They want it signed right away.'
