CHAPTER 40
Manhattan, NY Saturday, July 3, 2021
THE ONLINE STALKING COULD EASILY BE ACCOMPLISHED ON HER OWN laptop, and in her own hotel room—alone and isolated in her own Avery Mason bubble of safety. But tonight she refused to allow rational thought to win out over mirthful. She and Walt felt they had made a small break in the case, and she felt a thrill from working together. She was enjoying his company and knew that working late in his hotel room was a potential conduit to intimacy. When this first occurred to her after they finished reviewing the crime scene photos, Avery’s instincts had been to grab her purse and leave, her mind dominated as it were with troubling worries that being intimate with a man would somehow expose her as a fraud. But she decided that her entire existence could not be spent in a perpetual state of flux and fear. At some point she would have to either merge her two lives—the fraudulent with the honest—or decide to leave one of them behind.
This battle was taking place inside her head as she sat next to Walt on the couch while he typed the names into the search engine. They had decided to start with the spouses, and it didn’t take long to find Cameron Young’s widow and Victoria Ford’s widower.
“Jasper Ford is a real estate agent here in New York,” Walt said. “That’s how they met.”
“Who?”
“The Fords and the Youngs. They met when Jasper Ford sold Cameron and Tessa the Catskills home. They became friends after that. Tessa Young mentioned it during one of her interviews.”
They stalked Jasper Ford for a while but found nothing interesting. Eventually, they turned their attention to Tessa Young. Cameron Young’s widow was a fifty-five-year-old professor of English literature at Columbia. She was remarried and, according to Whitepages.com, lived in a walk-up in Hell’s Kitchen. She had a twenty-year-old daughter who was a junior at Boston College.
“Look at this,” Walt said. He had Tessa’s Facebook page open and was scrolling through her timeline. “Nearly every post from this summer was made on her sailboat. And she belongs to the New York Yacht Club.”
Avery leaned over to look at the images.
“That’s another part of their history,” Walt said. “Tessa and Cameron were avid sailors. They invited Jasper and Victoria out for a sail after they closed on the Catskills mansion. They became friends after that.”
“The lady would certainly know how to tie a bowline knot,” Avery said. “And if Tessa had found out about the affair . . .”
Walt sat back from his computer and took a deep breath. “Let’s not jump to conclusions we can’t prove. Other than a flimsy theory on knots, nothing puts Tessa Young at the crime scene.”
Avery looked back at the monitor. “Maybe I’ll reach out to her.”
“And ask about a twenty-year-old homicide you’re attempting to tie her to? Really bad idea.”
“I’m not tying anyone to anything,” Avery said. “But Tessa and Jasper are worth talking to. They’re on my list of people to contact.”
“Not if you’re taking the angle that Tessa Young could be involved with her husband’s death. It’s a bad idea, Avery.”
The way he said her name, staring at her, sent a flutter through her chest.
“Look,” he said. “If we really think there’s something to any of this, we root out the details and go to the authorities to show them what we have. I still have plenty of contacts. But bowline knots and the absence of blood on the rope are not going to change any minds, especially twenty years later. Getting a case reopened is a monumental task. Before I reach out to any of my old contacts, we’re going to need something stronger than a lack of blood on a couple of sailing knots. The fact that Victoria Ford’s blood was on the carpeting will trump any lack of blood elsewhere. We need something more.”
“Then let’s go through the rest of the case,” Avery said. “We’ve made it through, what, half of it? And we’ve already found some holes.”
“Potential holes.”
“Maybe there are more definitive ones to find.”
Walt looked over at the box of files on the desk, paused, and then nodded. “Okay. Let’s see what else we can find. Meet again tomorrow evening? Unless you have plans. It’s the Fourth of July.”
“My only plans are with you.” Avery stood. “Thanks for doing this with me. No matter what we find, I appreciate your help.”
“I want to make sure we got things right all those years ago. And I need to know if we got them wrong, too.”
Walt stood also. They were face to face.
“Say, six o’clock tomorrow?”
Avery nodded. “See you then.”
She said the words but didn’t move.
“Okay,” Walt said, staying as still as her. “See you tomorrow.”
His words floated off with little meaning. Then, suddenly, they moved to each other. The kissing was frantic at first and then slowed to become more passionate. Avery did a quick run-through in her mind. She’d had a single beer at dinner; he’d had two. Neither was drunk, which was both a positive and negative aspect of what was about to happen. She’d never made a habit out of drunken sex, which made accountability the following morning unavoidable. Without drunkenness, there was nothing to blame their behavior on other than mutual attraction and an open willingness to share intimacy. For most, this was a normal result of sex. For Avery Mason, it was a portal that allowed another person access to her past.
The worrisome thoughts raced through her mind as she kissed Walt Jenkins. But without too much effort, she forced them away and enjoyed the feel of a man’s hands on her hips for the first time in over a year. She pushed him backward as they kissed. They stumbled across the suite, through the bedroom door, and onto the bed. Buttons popped and zippers buzzed.