you this. You better be right.” Evgeniy passed an envelope through the window.
Kelsen held the envelope by the window. “Don’t give me any of that ‘better be right’ crap. I did what I had to do. Either he wants this money played or he doesn’t.”
“He wants it played.”
Kelsen counted the bills. He nodded and raised the window.
* * *
D AN GIBSON RECEIVED A call just after dinner. The doorman in the Trump lobby informed him that two policemen wanted to come up and talk to him. Gibson opened the door when they arrived.
Detective O’Herrin spoke, his head lowered slightly. “I’m afraid I have bad news for you, sir. Mr. Harrington’s body was found this evening at the Fullerton breakwater.”
Gibson’s legs went wobbly and he sat down on the couch. “What happened?”
“Well, sir, it … it looks like there’s been foul play. There was a bullet wound. His body was taken to the medical examiner’s. You can see him there, sir, if you want to. Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. Would you be okay?” Gibson’s chin quivered. “Where was the wound?”
O’Herrin hesitated. “In his right temple.”
Gibson grabbed his face with both hands and cried.
O’Herrin pulled a small writing pad from his back pocket. “Can we ask a few questions?”
Gibson swallowed hard. “Can we do this tomorrow?”
“Sure. That’d be all right. We’ll call you tomorrow, but can I ask just one question? Just one or two?”
Gibson nodded.
O’Herrin pulled up a chair opposite the couch and sat on the edge. “Was Mr. Harrington depressed recently? Were there any … what they call suicidal ideations? Would he take his own life?”
Gibson sobbed. “No. Never. We were so happy. His company was just sold and we were going to take a vacation. Denny’s idea—a cruise through the Panama Canal.” Gibson grabbed a tissue. “Did you find a gun?”
O’Herrin shook his head and penciled a few notes. “If his company was sold, where was he going to work?”
“We have some savings. Denny can easily get another job if he wants one. He’s very good at what he does.” Gibson caught himself. “At what he did.”
“I’m truly sorry, sir. Do you know whether he had money troubles? Was he indebted to anyone?”
“I told you, we have savings,” Gibson snapped. “And besides, he told me he was getting a substantial bonus on the sale of the company.”
“Excuse me for asking this, sir, but with him dead and all, would he still get that bonus?”
Gibson shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s not something we ever discussed. Would you leave now, please?”
“Of course.” O’Herrin stood and took a step toward the door, then stopped. “Just one more question, please. Did he have any enemies?”
Gibson shook his head.
“Anybody who would want to do him harm?”
Gibson shook his head.
“Excuse me for asking this, but did he have any other relationships? You know, other guys who would, um, would be jealous enough to be violent?”
“That’s insulting. Now please leave.”
“Very sorry, sir. Can we call you tomorrow?”
Gibson nodded and showed them out.
E IGHTEEN
M ARCY SMILED OVER THE rim of her wineglass. They sat side by side at a plank table on the veranda of Paca’s Seaside Sushi Shack. Her elbows rested on the table and she wrapped her hands around the glass. “You were so gallant.”
“That was not my intent. I assure you it was all knee-jerk.” Jack gazed out at the Pacific. The stars and the horizon were both discernible in the minutes following the sun’s dip beneath the edge of the earth, known to sailors as nautical twilight. The sea moved in shadows. Swells and whitecaps.
“’Twas gallantry nonetheless. I choose to believe my version of the story. Reasonable minds can differ. Isn’t that what you lawyers say?” Marcy took a deep, relaxing breath and stared at the ocean. “This reminds me of that weekend at Grand Haven. Remember? We were all sitting at a
Kelsen held the envelope by the window. “Don’t give me any of that ‘better be right’ crap. I did what I had to do. Either he wants this money played or he doesn’t.”
“He wants it played.”
Kelsen counted the bills. He nodded and raised the window.
* * *
D AN GIBSON RECEIVED A call just after dinner. The doorman in the Trump lobby informed him that two policemen wanted to come up and talk to him. Gibson opened the door when they arrived.
Detective O’Herrin spoke, his head lowered slightly. “I’m afraid I have bad news for you, sir. Mr. Harrington’s body was found this evening at the Fullerton breakwater.”
Gibson’s legs went wobbly and he sat down on the couch. “What happened?”
“Well, sir, it … it looks like there’s been foul play. There was a bullet wound. His body was taken to the medical examiner’s. You can see him there, sir, if you want to. Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. Would you be okay?” Gibson’s chin quivered. “Where was the wound?”
O’Herrin hesitated. “In his right temple.”
Gibson grabbed his face with both hands and cried.
O’Herrin pulled a small writing pad from his back pocket. “Can we ask a few questions?”
Gibson swallowed hard. “Can we do this tomorrow?”
“Sure. That’d be all right. We’ll call you tomorrow, but can I ask just one question? Just one or two?”
Gibson nodded.
O’Herrin pulled up a chair opposite the couch and sat on the edge. “Was Mr. Harrington depressed recently? Were there any … what they call suicidal ideations? Would he take his own life?”
Gibson sobbed. “No. Never. We were so happy. His company was just sold and we were going to take a vacation. Denny’s idea—a cruise through the Panama Canal.” Gibson grabbed a tissue. “Did you find a gun?”
O’Herrin shook his head and penciled a few notes. “If his company was sold, where was he going to work?”
“We have some savings. Denny can easily get another job if he wants one. He’s very good at what he does.” Gibson caught himself. “At what he did.”
“I’m truly sorry, sir. Do you know whether he had money troubles? Was he indebted to anyone?”
“I told you, we have savings,” Gibson snapped. “And besides, he told me he was getting a substantial bonus on the sale of the company.”
“Excuse me for asking this, sir, but with him dead and all, would he still get that bonus?”
Gibson shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s not something we ever discussed. Would you leave now, please?”
“Of course.” O’Herrin stood and took a step toward the door, then stopped. “Just one more question, please. Did he have any enemies?”
Gibson shook his head.
“Anybody who would want to do him harm?”
Gibson shook his head.
“Excuse me for asking this, but did he have any other relationships? You know, other guys who would, um, would be jealous enough to be violent?”
“That’s insulting. Now please leave.”
“Very sorry, sir. Can we call you tomorrow?”
Gibson nodded and showed them out.
E IGHTEEN
M ARCY SMILED OVER THE rim of her wineglass. They sat side by side at a plank table on the veranda of Paca’s Seaside Sushi Shack. Her elbows rested on the table and she wrapped her hands around the glass. “You were so gallant.”
“That was not my intent. I assure you it was all knee-jerk.” Jack gazed out at the Pacific. The stars and the horizon were both discernible in the minutes following the sun’s dip beneath the edge of the earth, known to sailors as nautical twilight. The sea moved in shadows. Swells and whitecaps.
“’Twas gallantry nonetheless. I choose to believe my version of the story. Reasonable minds can differ. Isn’t that what you lawyers say?” Marcy took a deep, relaxing breath and stared at the ocean. “This reminds me of that weekend at Grand Haven. Remember? We were all sitting at a
Similar Books
