Chapter 19

 

“CATE HARLOW,” I say distractedly as I’m checking my e-mail and instant messages. Myrtle went to the bank so I picked up the phone. I should have let it go to voice mail but there’s something about an unanswered phone that gets to me. I know people who always let their calls go to voice mail and I can never understand why. Maybe that’s the PI in me, who knows for sure? There are times when I want to say to complete strangers, “Answer the God-damned phone! It might be important!”

There’s a pause on the end of the caller and I say, “Hello? This is Cate Harlow. Who’s calling?”

“Um, yes, hello. Is this Ms. Harlow, the private investigator?” The voice sounds strangely familiar.

“You got it. Who’s calling?”

“This is Konrad Jasinski. You gave me your card.”

“Sorry, Mr. Jasinski, I give my card to a lot of people. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Of course, yes, I’m Konrad Jasinski.” Pause. “Luca Memorial Services? Do you remember me?”

Jasinski? Oh right. He wrote his name down on a piece of paper, which I stuck in Jennifer’s file. I check my caller ID. It is the weirdo funeral guy. Even over the phone he gives me the creeps.

“Yes, Mr. Jasinski, I remember you. What did you want to tell me?”

“Oh, that’s splendid. I had hoped you would remember me and our conversation about the Perfect Ruby Rest 0557 product?”

I sit down and look out the window at my small family of doves nesting in the abandoned flowerpot on my fire escape. I have to put feed out for them after lunch. I close my eyes and say, “Yes, I do remember you and that product very well, Mr. Jasinski.” What I remember is how he lovingly stroked the casket as if he were its lover. “Go on.”

“I’m so glad. I thought I may have dialed the wrong number.” He clears his throat and continues. “Well, my call is about the Perfect Ruby Rest 0557. It is one of our most beautiful resting containers. You may remember the lovely lines and the smooth satiny finish? It is especially fit for a lady and I was wondering…” Jesus! I shiver. Is this guy trying to sell me a coffin? “Mr. Jasinski, are you giving me a sales pitch? Because if you are I can tell you...”

“Oh no, no, this is not a, what did you call it? Oh, yes, no, this is not a sales pitch, no, not at all. Well, not unless you are in need of one, of course. I would be glad to be of service in your time of need.” His voice hovers like a hungry ghoul in a horror movie and I am annoyed.

“Mr. Jasinski, just what is this call about?”

“The Perfect Ruby Rest 0557. That is what I’m calling about, Ms. Harlow.”

“What about it?”

“The one that was ordered for a Jennifer Brooks-Warren last week? Well, you gave specific instructions that we were not to call the lady in question so I’m calling you.”

“Yes, Mr. Jasinski, but just what about the…product... warrants this call?”

“It was picked up.”

“What?!” I’m on my feet. “By whom?”

“The Perfect Ruby Rest 0557, the one supposedly ordered by Ms. Brooks-Warren, was picked up last night, around eleven-thirty. I wasn’t here myself but I saw the delivery book this

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morning that lists merchandise delivered or picked up. We at Luca Memorial Services did not

deliver it, no. It seems as if it was picked up by a truck rental company.”

“What’s the name of this company?”

I hear a rustling of paper. “U-Move-It National.”

A do-it-yourself haul-away company. Their trucks from eighteen wheelers to small pick-ups are all over the city. The Eliminator, from what I gather, has picked up the casket from Luca Memorial late at night when the regular manager and workers are not around. He only had to deal with one person, an office worker doubling as a night watchman. Still I may be able to find out where the casket was taken.

I ask Mr. Ghoul if he can get hold of the person who was in charge last night to come down to Luca Memorial today to speak with me. I tell him that I’ll be down at his office later this afternoon. “Yes, yes, of course Ms. Harlow, I’ll call him now. I’m sure when I explain the necessity of you having to speak with him, he’ll be glad to accommodate you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jasinski. I’ll be there at three.” Damn!

After I hang up I think of Jennifer. She hasn’t called me yet so obviously the Eliminator hasn’t sent any message to her concerning the delivery of the casket. If there was a delivery I’d know about it, if not from a terrified Jennifer then surely from her fiancé Edward or Adrian’s alert crew. I still haven’t told her about the little outing I planned. I didn’t want her to obsess about leaving her condo until everything was set. I check my watch; it’s almost twelve noon. That means that it’s been over twelve hours since someone picked up the casket. The fact that I haven’t heard from her or Adrian’s team is a good sign but I call her just in case.

Edward answers the phone. “Hi, Edward.” I make my voice sound normal and professional. “Just checking to see how everything is. How’s Jennifer feeling?”

“She seems fine but I know everything is getting to her and to me as well. Any news on your end? Are you close to finding this, this hit man?” His rich voice is pleasant but I hear a tired catch to his words.

“Actually we’re getting some new intel so I’m confident that we’ll find him.”

“For all our sakes I hope so.”

“Put Jennifer on the phone, Edward. I’d like to speak with her about all of us going out to dinner Wednesday night.”

“Of course.” I hear him call to Jennifer, “Sweetheart? Cate Harlow is on the phone. She’d very much like to speak with you. And, she has a nice surprise.” A few seconds elapse before I hear Jennifer’s voice. She sounds tired and old.

“Jennifer, I know this is wearing on you. But as I told Edward a few days ago, I have a little outing planned for you two. How does dinner out at a nice Italian restaurant Wednesday night sound? You’ll be with me, Adrian and his crew, and a New York City detective. Sound good?”

There is a brief pause. “I guess. Whatever you feel is best, Cate. I just, I—I just want this over.” Jennifer sounds groggy.

“Jennifer? Are you feeling all right? Do you need a doctor? I can have one come to you.”

“I’m just very, very tired now, Cate. Just...tired. All I want to do is sleep.”

 

 

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“Okay, sure, go lie down and let me talk to Edward for a moment. Listen though, we’ll make the restaurant trip a definite for Wednesday, around six. Now, put Edward back on the phone.” There’s a sound as if someone has dropped the receiver then Edward comes back on the line.

“Edward, Jennifer sounds groggy, how many pills is she taking? I mean, we don’t want an overdose. Are you monitoring her?” Giles’s warning about depression and sedatives is fresh in my mind.

“Oh yes, of course. Actually she hasn’t taken anything today. Quite frankly, Cate, she’s depressed and seems to want to sleep all the time. I assume that’s natural considering all that she’s going through. Sometimes I feel as if she doesn’t know I’m here or even care that I am. Poor girl. I just wish I could be of more help to her.”

“You’re helping more than you know, Edward. Going out Wednesday night will be good for both of you. Hopefully this will all be over soon, Edward.”

There’s a pause on his end, then, “Yes. Over soon.”

I hang up the phone. I have a sudden brainstorm; I need someone with charm and grace to make the evening seem normal and there’s one person who has that down to a science: Melissa Aubrincourt. I immediately text her to see if she has any plans for Wednesday. I quickly explain the situation, assure her that we’ll all be safe, and tell her one of Adrian’s people can pick her up. Five minutes later I get a call from her saying she’s available until her eleven o’clock appointment later that night and that she’ll take a cab to the restaurant if I can drive her back to her brownstone later.

“Thanks so much, this woman needs a real distraction right now. And believe me, Melissa, you’ll be safe, what with Will and Adrian’s team.”

Her sweet melodic voice says, “Oh I don’t doubt my safety and it’s my pleasure to help you. See you at six. ’Bye.”

There’s a text message from Will on my phone asking if I’d be able to grill him on bar exam questions tonight. I text him back, “Home around six, right now going to check out info on a coffin pick-up at Luca Memorial. See you later.”

 

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Meeting with the night clerk–cum–night watchman sheds very little light on the pick-up of the Perfect Ruby Rest 0557. All he remembers is that he buzzed a man in around 11:10, the man asked for the item and said he was here to pick it up for a client. A grainy old-fashioned video tape shows a man dressed in workman’s gear wearing a cap, brown jacket, and heavy work gloves. The coffin is loaded onto the truck by a hydraulic lift. Unfortunately the camera only shows the bay doors and the flat inside of the truck, both of which were above the license plate area. The clerk doesn’t have any more info or a decent description of the man and I suspect that he may have been sleeping when the truck arrived and the driver banged on the door. I write down all the information, thank both the clerk and Mr. Jasinski, who is creepily stroking one of the coffins again, and get the hell out of there.

 

 

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In my car a quick call to the New York office of the U-Move-It National rental company yields very little information. The person on the other end says the company doesn’t require that a renter states what they want to move. “It’s a privacy thing, miss.”

“A privacy policy that could be very dangerous,” I say. “After 9/11, I would think some type of security and knowledge of what’s being hauled would be appropriate. The truck may be involved in a potential crime.” Getting nothing but, “I’m sorry, office policy,” as an unsatisfactory reply to my statement, I ask him to send a copy of anyone who rented a truck large enough to move heavy furniture over the past week to my office e-mail.

“Sorry, miss. I can’t do that either. Again it’s a privacy thing. You need something from a judge in order to look at our files. Sorry.” He hangs up and I immediately call Will to tell him about their “privacy thing.”

“Can you get me a search and seizure warrant for a list of people who have rented large trucks over the past week at U-Move-It National? Their local office is down by the Bowery.”

“This about the coffin text message you sent? The one that was ordered and now picked up?”

“Yes, can you help me on this, Will? You know some judges who have helped you in the past on your cases.”

“True, but those cases were in fact real crimes; there was evidence enough to warrant a search and seizure. I need to give hard proof to any judge I approach that this is, in fact, a crime. That’s the legal system as it works now.”

“How about a not-so-legal type of search and seizure?” I hear him sigh and the sound of a pen tapping.

“You know I don’t want to hear about illegal means. I know you’re not always aboveboard with legal technicalities but I can’t be a part of it, Cate. You know I won’t.”

“What about if this was me instead of Jennifer Brooks-Warren? Would you do illegal then? To save my life?”

The pen tapping goes into a staccato drum beat. “I’m not going to answer that because you damn well know that if your life was in danger, I would do everything in my power to save you. But this isn’t you and as far as the legal system is concerned, it’s not a crime to purchase and pick up a coffin. Sorry, babe, no. The guy you spoke to is right. You can’t access a company’s files to trace a trunk rental to a possible crime. Technically, no crime has been committed so the privacy policy stands. Plus, the license plate is unknown, and as I said, picking up a coffin is not a crime, so no judge is going to issue a search and seizure.”

“Shit!”

“Love you too,” he says casually. “See you after seven.” I hang up the phone.

 

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Dinner Wednesday night is interesting to say the least. Everyone is dressed in casual dinner style for the occasion and anyone seeing our group would think it was some type of an office party. I’ve thrown a green silk scarf that Will’s mother, the lovely Francesca Sutton Benigni, gave me for Christmas, over a soft yellow blouse. The scarf keeps slipping off my neck

 

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and shoulders because I refuse to knot the material and ruin the scarf. Will keeps picking it up

from the floor. The third time he places it back around my neck he laughs and says, under his

breath, “Knot the damn thing!”

The security people, always two together, take turns standing by the only accessible door, locked from the inside, to the back room; Adrian has other agents outside checking out anyone who comes in the restaurant and both bathrooms have an agent inside. We’ve even hired Dave the sniper to do a two hour watch that will cost Jennifer five thousand dollars. “Not exactly fifty thou, Harlow,” he’d said when I called him to make the offer. “But I’m doing it because I respect Adrian.” Yeah, sure, I thought after I’d hung up. Respect has nothing to do with it. You’re doing it for the money even if the amount offered is significantly lower than you’d hoped.

Will, Adrian, and Natalie sit facing the door and, even while they eat, I know all three are on high alert. Giles and I talk pleasantly to Edward about the stock market, politics and nothing important. Melissa tries to engage Jennifer into a conversation about fashion week. She’s very good at this, Melissa is, sweet and relaxing. She knows how to put people at ease, probably a necessity in her line of work. Jennifer warms a bit to what she is saying. When Melissa regales us all with a funny story about a costume she wore as a young girl during Carnival time in her native New Orleans, I see a slight smile on Jennifer’s lips.

There is no wine being served with this dinner; we need to be on guard and ready in the event that a problem arises. And even though my mind tells me we’re safe for the time being, I feel comfortable knowing that my gun is in the back waistband of my designer jeans.

I watch Giles observing Jennifer and hear him ask her several innocuous questions. I know that he is watching her for any signs of being overly sedated. Her response to his questions is slower than it should be and she seems a bit confused when she answers. Giles looks at me and raises an eyebrow. Glancing at my watch I see that we’ve been sitting here for ninety minutes. Dinner is finishing up. A pastry and gourmet coffee cart is wheeled into the room and there’s a sudden stirring at our table.

Jennifer excuses herself and heads toward the bathrooms. Natalie immediately follows. I get up and stretch and walk around the table pretending to check out the pastries. I keep glancing toward the rear of the restaurant where the bathrooms are. I am confident that Natalie can handle herself but it’s always good to have back-up just in case.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to Will leaning down over his shoulder, “Get me a hazelnut coffee, okay?” He nods, pats the back waist of my designer jeans to see if the gun is there then squeezes my butt. I know he’s checking to see if I’m armed but he’s always ready to play grab-ass if he’s given the opportunity. As I’m walking toward the back of the restaurant, my fellow diners are getting up to inspect the cart.

In the ladies’ room I see that all is quiet; Jennifer is washing her hands in a desultory manner, seemingly spaced-out. I nod to another of Adrian’s agents, a tall black woman with eyes that miss nothing. I know her from several cases where I used Adrian’s agency. Her name’s Lin; she’s a good person to have your back.

When Jennifer’s ready to leave I follow her and Natalie outside the door and watch them head back toward the table. Then I go back in and talk a bit with the security person.

 

 

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“Did they bring you anything to eat, Lin?” I ask. She shakes her head. “They offered but I declined. I’m on duty so I’ll grab a bite later.”

We talk a bit more and I stretch my back. I’m tight from sitting for two hours and from being constantly on guard. I check my phone for any messages and find nothing there that can’t wait. Then I head back to my jolly little group.

Back at the table I notice that everyone seems to be standing by the dessert cart. I don’t see Edward. Will hands me a coffee. “Men’s room,” he says to my questioning look around the room. “Edward told Adrian and me he had to use the facilities; in other words he had to take a leak.”

“Gee, thanks for sharing, Will,” I say giving a wide-eyed innocent look. “Made my whole night.”

“Yeah well, now you’ve got that image in your head. I’ll have to do something to make you forget it. Later, baby.” He smiles and winks at me knowing that his humor is breaking the tension I feel in a room without windows and a possible hit man lurking outside. He touches my arm as I’m about to sit down with my coffee. “Where’s your scarf? You drop it?” My scarf, the beautiful green silk scarf. It must have slipped off my neck and I probably did lose it coming back from the bathroom. I tell Will I’ll be right back.

On the way toward the back I find my scarf lying on the floor. As I bend to pick it up I see Edward coming out of a corner near the men’s room. He’s on his phone and doesn’t see me until he trips over me, drops his phone, and lands next to the wall. He looks startled. I pick up his phone to examine the screen checking to see if it is cracked from hitting the floor. I see a blur of words before Edward takes the phone out of my hand. I stare up at him as he gets to his feet, shaking his head as if he is clearing away distant thoughts, and sighs. Then he offers me his hand and helps me up. “Cate, what are you doing on the floor?”

“Picking up my scarf. Are you all right? You took a mean tumble there, Edward.”

“Oh yes, I’m all right. I didn’t look where I was going. I was checking the weather for the week. Bad weather makes Jennifer more depressed than usual.” He stops and looks back toward the restaurant room where dessert is being served then down at his phone. “Especially…rain, yes, rainy days are the worst for her. Rain washes away everything, doesn’t it?” He looks down the narrow hall again. “Let’s rejoin everyone, shall we? I don’t want Jennifer to worry about me, after all. She has enough on her mind.”

Back at the table I see Will on his cell phone talking to someone at his precinct. His phone is top-of-the-line new, not the regulation standard phones issued to most cops. He paid for this himself so that he misses nothing that has to do with his job. Will’s that dedicated to work but the phone also has everything that he personally wanted and is a technological wonder. He’s the one who bought me my own top-of-the-line phone and I’ve never regretted having it. And as I watch him talking on this expensive cell, a thought comes to my mind. Even though I only had his phone in my hand for a second, I could tell that Edward’s phone was a cheap one and definitely not new. Funny. I would have thought a man as wealthy as Edward seems to be would want the latest phone technology for business purposes. It’s a bit strange that he...

Will interrupts my thoughts by bringing me a delicate chocolate crème concoction. “So far so good, Cate. But, hell, the night’s not over yet. We still have to get Jennifer back to her

 

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condo safe and alive.” He takes a bite of my dessert and then goes over to talk to Adrian. I find

myself wishing that the night was over and that we were all safe in our respective beds. My own

bed preferably including a smoking hot NYPD detective named Will Benigni.