went missing?
It doesn’t really matter. The fact is I don’t trust him anymore. Not completely.
He takes my hand, interrupting my fidgeting. “Whoever her family was, your mom loved you.”
“Not enough to stay.”
“Maybe she loved you so much she had to leave.”
I pull my hand away and stuff both into the pockets of my vest. It’s time to change the topic.
“I need your advice on a job I’m working. Have you heard of the New World Initiative?”
He pauses. “It’s some kind of pyramid scheme, I think.”
“Yes, maybe. It sells leadership skills and self-confidence to pencil pushers.” I explain about NWI, about the imprisoned embezzler and his wife, my new client.
When I finish, my dad leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “I guess it could be legit. But it’s strange that your client is so insistent that her husband was coerced. Most people don’t need additional motive to steal money.”
“An otherwise honest man might. If he thought his place in heaven would be secured.”
“I thought you said it was business-oriented. Not religious.”
“It’s not religious. I meant it figuratively. But if Duke Salinger is half as charismatic—”
“Did you say Duke Salinger?”
“Yes, why? Have you heard of him?”
“He was a financial investor arrested for fraud in the nineties. A grifter in the Wall Street sense.”
I make a face. I don’t have a lot of respect for that sort of criminal. It’s a lot easier to lie convincingly to someone over a phone than to their face.
“He was something of a legend, actually. He stole a lot of money from a lot of gullible people. But then something happened, and he got caught. Last I heard, he was in the pen.”
“And?”
“That’s it.”
That’s it, my eye. He’s holding out on me for some reason. But I know better than to try to come at him about it directly. “Well, he’s been out of jail long enough to form a lucrative leadership skills–building organization.”
My dad stays silent, his eyes glazed with the preoccupation of his own thoughts. I don’t know whether to push him more or to let it go for now. The last thing I need is for him to shut down completely. So I try a subtler approach.
“There’s more. Mrs. Antolini found a bunch of receipts linking the New World Initiative to Bar63. And she mentioned that the authorities questioning her were looking for a blue fairy.”
He gives me a blank look. “Lots of organizations keep receipts from company outings. It might be nothing.”
“But the blue fairy?”
He rubs his forehead. “If this company is somehow affiliated with your mom’s family, stay away from it. I may not know anything about her past, but I know that she was terrified they’d find her. Terrified. Anything that scared your mother that much—your mother, who wasn’t afraid of anything—should be avoided at all costs.”
“But what about Mr. Antolini? If Mrs. Antolini is right that there’s more to this than a trumped-up embezzlement charge…”
My dad gives me a pointed look. “Don’t get too attached to the mark.”
“Mr. Antolini is not my mark.”
“He’s somebody’s mark. It’s a slippery slope, Julep.”
Says the man who got himself shot trying to save a warehouse full of marks.
“Time’s up,” says Bob the prison guard. I kind of hate Bob.
We get out of our chairs, and my dad hugs me tight. “I love you. Be careful.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
And then he’s through the door without a backward glance. I wish I didn’t know that it’s because it’s the only way he can force himself to leave. Sometimes being a grifter sucks.
It isn’t until I’m back in Dani’s rental car buckling my seat belt that I realize I forgot to tell him about the contract killer.
“How did it go?” Dani asks.
“About as well as you’d expect. He either doesn’t know anything or he’s doing a damn good job of hiding that he does.”
“Yes. That is irritating, isn’t
It doesn’t really matter. The fact is I don’t trust him anymore. Not completely.
He takes my hand, interrupting my fidgeting. “Whoever her family was, your mom loved you.”
“Not enough to stay.”
“Maybe she loved you so much she had to leave.”
I pull my hand away and stuff both into the pockets of my vest. It’s time to change the topic.
“I need your advice on a job I’m working. Have you heard of the New World Initiative?”
He pauses. “It’s some kind of pyramid scheme, I think.”
“Yes, maybe. It sells leadership skills and self-confidence to pencil pushers.” I explain about NWI, about the imprisoned embezzler and his wife, my new client.
When I finish, my dad leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “I guess it could be legit. But it’s strange that your client is so insistent that her husband was coerced. Most people don’t need additional motive to steal money.”
“An otherwise honest man might. If he thought his place in heaven would be secured.”
“I thought you said it was business-oriented. Not religious.”
“It’s not religious. I meant it figuratively. But if Duke Salinger is half as charismatic—”
“Did you say Duke Salinger?”
“Yes, why? Have you heard of him?”
“He was a financial investor arrested for fraud in the nineties. A grifter in the Wall Street sense.”
I make a face. I don’t have a lot of respect for that sort of criminal. It’s a lot easier to lie convincingly to someone over a phone than to their face.
“He was something of a legend, actually. He stole a lot of money from a lot of gullible people. But then something happened, and he got caught. Last I heard, he was in the pen.”
“And?”
“That’s it.”
That’s it, my eye. He’s holding out on me for some reason. But I know better than to try to come at him about it directly. “Well, he’s been out of jail long enough to form a lucrative leadership skills–building organization.”
My dad stays silent, his eyes glazed with the preoccupation of his own thoughts. I don’t know whether to push him more or to let it go for now. The last thing I need is for him to shut down completely. So I try a subtler approach.
“There’s more. Mrs. Antolini found a bunch of receipts linking the New World Initiative to Bar63. And she mentioned that the authorities questioning her were looking for a blue fairy.”
He gives me a blank look. “Lots of organizations keep receipts from company outings. It might be nothing.”
“But the blue fairy?”
He rubs his forehead. “If this company is somehow affiliated with your mom’s family, stay away from it. I may not know anything about her past, but I know that she was terrified they’d find her. Terrified. Anything that scared your mother that much—your mother, who wasn’t afraid of anything—should be avoided at all costs.”
“But what about Mr. Antolini? If Mrs. Antolini is right that there’s more to this than a trumped-up embezzlement charge…”
My dad gives me a pointed look. “Don’t get too attached to the mark.”
“Mr. Antolini is not my mark.”
“He’s somebody’s mark. It’s a slippery slope, Julep.”
Says the man who got himself shot trying to save a warehouse full of marks.
“Time’s up,” says Bob the prison guard. I kind of hate Bob.
We get out of our chairs, and my dad hugs me tight. “I love you. Be careful.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
And then he’s through the door without a backward glance. I wish I didn’t know that it’s because it’s the only way he can force himself to leave. Sometimes being a grifter sucks.
It isn’t until I’m back in Dani’s rental car buckling my seat belt that I realize I forgot to tell him about the contract killer.
“How did it go?” Dani asks.
“About as well as you’d expect. He either doesn’t know anything or he’s doing a damn good job of hiding that he does.”
“Yes. That is irritating, isn’t
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