Kylie had no patience. She rang Wells’s doorbell a second time.
“Who is it?” he responded over the intercom.
“Detectives MacDonald and Jordan, NYPD,” she said. “We need to talk. It won’t take long.”
“It’s rather inconvenient right now,” he said. “I’m in the middle of something. Can you come back tomorrow?”
“It’s rather inconvenient to have a mass murderer wandering around our city, Mr. Wells,” she said. “Since you’re at the top of his hit list, maybe you could drop what you’re doing and spend a few minutes with the people who are trying to get to him before he gets to you.”
“Point well taken, Detective,” he said. “I’ll be right down.”
She stepped away from the intercom and threw her hands up in the air. “This is the same bullshit we got from Langford. Nobody wants to talk to the cops.”
“Langford didn’t want to talk because he was guilty of murder,” I said.
“So what’s Wells’s excuse?” Kylie said. “Do you think he knows that we’re the mayor’s stooges, and he’s not in the mood to talk about building housing for the homeless? Or do you think he’s totally in denial about Segura, and he figures if he makes us go away, then the problem goes away?”
“Or there’s a third possibility,” I said.
“Like what?”
“Like maybe he’s in the middle of something, and we came at a really inconvenient time.”
The front door opened and Princeton Wells stood there, his hair wet, his feet bare, and a towel around his waist. He reeked of booze.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “Kenda and I were in the hot tub.”
“We apologize if we caught you at a bad time,” I said.
“Bad time? Hell, you caught me at a great time. And if the two of you want to join me and Kenda in the hot tub, it could be a fucking fantastic time.”
“Mr. Wells, I know you’ve turned us down before,” I said, “but in light of what happened with Nathan Hirsch, NYPD is prepared to offer you police protection. Do you want it?”
“Sure. You can protect me from that blonde in the hot tub. She’s insatiable. I swear to God that woman will be the death of me.”
“Sir, have you been drinking?” Kylie said.
“Nonstop, Detective. It’s my go-to coping mechanism. As far as I know there’s no law against it, so if there’s nothing further…”
“There’s one other thing. The mayor would like you to call her.”
“Tell Muriel she’s on my list,” he said. “No, no, wait: Tell her the truth. Tell her Princeton Wells is on a bender, but he’s safely locked up in his great-grandmother’s mansion, which is like the Fortress of Solitude, only with better decorating. Also tell her that the Tremont Gardens project will go on as scheduled. It’s Del Fairfax’s legacy, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it die with him. I’m a little sauced right now, but tomorrow morning I promise I will be sober, and I’ll start writing checks, making phone calls, and moving heaven and earth to get it done. I swear.”
“Mayor Sykes will be happy to hear that,” I said.
“Then we’re good,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks for coming,” he said, and shut the door.
“I don’t get it,” I said as Kylie and I walked back to the car.
“What don’t you get, Zach? That rich people are assholes? That Princeton Wells would rather get drunk and get laid than get out of Dodge?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just that he never asked us where we are in the investigation. With Nathan Hirsch it was always, ‘Did you find Segura? Did you arrest La Grande?’ For a man who is the killer’s next target, Princeton Wells seems remarkably uninterested in how the manhunt for Geraldo Segura is going.”
“Which just reinforces my rich-people-are-assholes theory.”
I looked at my watch. “I’ve given the city enough of my life today,” I said. “I’m going to punch out and go home.”
“What are you doing tonight?” Kylie asked.
“Probably have dinner with Cheryl, catch something on Netflix.”
It was true. I just left out the part about my plan to trap her boyfriend into helping me rob a high-stakes poker game.