“He mailed the photocopy to your office?” I said.
“Yeah. And I’m not in there much anymore. My kids run the business now. They bundle my personal mail together and send it off to me every few days. We do everything else by phone and fax.”
I thought for a moment. “You have a fax at home, then?”
“Sure.”
“Fax the photocopy to me, Keene.”
“Christ! You haven’t even seen it, have you?”
“Fax the photocopy to me, Keene.”
“No. I am sure as hell not faxing something to a goddamned newspaper.”
“I’ll stand by the machine.”
“You’ll stand there a long time. Wait a minute-what’s going on here? Why doesn’t your friend just give you a copy of it? He had enough of them made.”
Decision time. Could I trust him? After a moment, I said, “There’s a good reason why he hasn’t given me the photocopy. I’ll tell you that reason, if you swear to me that you will not discuss this with your cronies or anyone else.”
“They are
“Swear it, Keene. And swear it on something that means something to you.”
“I swear it on my wife’s memory,” he said, and there was nothing casual in the offering.
“Lucas Monroe is dead.”
“What?! Oh God, tell me you’re shitting me again.”
“You know I’m not.”
“You see how dangerous this is? You see?”
“You’re talking as if you don’t believe my friend died of natural causes, Keene.”
“Did he?” There was a plea for hope in the question.
“No, I don’t think he did. Coroner is still working on it, but nothing he comes up with will make me believe that Lucas just happened to die at such a convenient time. And I can promise you this: I won’t let this one rest.”
He groaned. I waited.
“I don’t really know anything,” he said again, but without much heat.
“Keene, if you don’t know anything, you have nothing to worry about. And if you don’t, why are you afraid to send me that photocopy?”
There was another long silence.
“Too dangerous. Find somebody else. Maybe Tyler will give you his copy,” he said. “Talk to Tyler. Call him at his office.”
“I haven’t been able to get past his first line of defense.”
He paused, then said, “I’ll give you his direct line. But you better swear an oath of your own to me-you swear on O’Connor’s memory-that you won’t tell Tyler who gave you the number.”
Oaths and numbers exchanged, I promised him I’d keep in touch.
“I wish you wouldn’t,” he said, and hung up.
“HELLO,” the low voice said on the other end of the line.
“Corbin Tyler?”
“No one who has permission to call this number needs to ask,” the voice calmly replied. “Who is this?”
“Irene Kelly of the
“Forgive me for interrupting, but I have no intention of hanging up, Ms. Kelly. That would be rude. Not as rude as divulging a private number to a newspaper reporter, but I imagine my chances of learning who did so are very slim.”
“Nonexistent, Mr. Tyler.”
“I understand. Perhaps this is for the best. My secretary has felt quite annoyed for the past few days.”
“So have I. Why didn’t you just tell her to put the call through?”
“If you called again on that line, Ms. Kelly, I would refuse your call. But for the moment, you have my attention.”
“I’m calling about a color photocopy. Do you need me to spend time telling you which one?”
“No.”
“I’d like to see it, to talk to you about it-and about a few other things.”
I heard him sigh. “We will compromise, Ms. Kelly. Give me one hour. At the end of that hour, come to my office.” He gave me directions. “Park in the underground lot, near the north elevators. Use the one marked ‘private’ and enter this code on the keypad.” He read off a short list of numbers. “I’ll be waiting for you. Good-bye until then.”
He hung up.
AT THE TOP FLOORof the building that houses Tyler Associates, the elevator doors open directly onto the reception area of Corbin Tyler’s offices. There was no one sitting at the big marble-topped desk that stood facing me as I stepped out. I heard the faintest kiss of rubber as the elevator doors closed behind me. I listened, but heard no other sounds. In fact, the place seemed deserted.
Highly polished marble, glass, and brass surfaces were made less forbidding by soft, wintry light from skylights overhead and plush carpet below. A model of some new project stood off to one side in a glass case. Several doors led off the large room; all but one was closed. I walked toward the desk, my footsteps nearly soundless on the carpet. I stood there for a moment, then called a tentative “Hello?”
No one answered. On the large phone on the desk, none of the buttons for the multiple phone lines was lit. I studied the room for a moment and spotted two security cameras. I murmured a little prayer of gratitude-I hadn’t done any scratching or adjusting.
The open door led to a long hallway; along the passage, as in the reception area, all but one of the doors appeared to be closed. I couldn’t be certain, though; the hallway itself was almost completely dark. In contrast, the light filling the one open doorway was bright; so bright, I couldn’t see who or what was in the room.
I stepped into the hallway. The bright light beckoned at the end of the corridor, but once I was within the passage, I could barely make out anything right in front of me. I reached out and found a wall, and kept walking with my hand gliding along the cool surface.
Each step away from the elevators made me more uneasy. I didn’t know this place, or who Corbin Tyler might have contacted in the hour that had passed since we had spoken. In my eagerness to avoid John Walters, I had left the office without telling anyone where I was going. Only Keene would even know that I might have made contact with Tyler. “Hello?” I called again. “Mr. Tyler?”
There was no answer. I kept walking. My own heartbeat, my breathing, sounded loud to me. I kept my eyes on what I now thought of as the light at the end of the tunnel.
A voice behind me said, “Ms. Kelly.”
I shrieked.
I whirled around to face him, clutching my hand to my chest, embarrassed but too startled to say so. The afterimage of the bright light floated between me and a person who said, “I frightened you.”
“Yes.”
“My apologies. Continue down the hallway, please.”
I didn’t like the way things were starting out. Rachel had taught me a few self-defense moves. I was going over them in my head, considering my options as I walked to the open door. Hoping to quickly evaluate the situation before committing myself any further, I slowed down and listened. I could hear Corbin Tyler slowing as I slowed.
The sight which greeted me took my breath away.
There are probably better views in downtown Las Piernas, perhaps from some of the taller buildings, but I haven’t seen them yet. Directly ahead of me, a wall of windows faced the water, where I could see ships, the bridges over the harbor, the breakwater and marinas. The windows curved with the room, so that to my left, they faced slightly inland, overlooking a section of downtown Las Piernas. I finally noticed Corbin Tyler.
