I was sitting at the bar, enjoying my drink, when in walked Imogen. She smiled as she strolled up to me about twenty minutes after we had parted ways.
"My seven iron never looked so good," she said.
"Twenty minutes with a pro can do that," I said.
"And to think, it took me this long to finally schedule a private lesson. What was I thinking?"
"Probably that you should be on the tour and don't need his help."
"Oh, don't be silly, Max," she said.
"Who's the one being silly now?"
I ordered her a drink, and she sat. We discussed what I had found buried under a set of golf balls in Bill's shed. Imogen was just as perplexed as I had been.
"Lee Endicott's card? I just don't get it," she said.
"Me either."
"Do you suppose he was thinking about investing?"
"Does he have two million dollars?" I asked.
"He might. He was a professional golfer."
"I'm wondering how he got the card. It's the same personal one that he gave me. Cell scribbled on the back," I said.
"Do you think Eric gave it to him?" she asked.
"Not the one with the cell number on it. Endicott gave that to me. The one Eric forced on me was just a general one."
"So maybe Bill knows Endicott. I'm not sure what that means, if anything."
"Eric didn't mention it. Neither did Endicott. They also didn't mention playing golf. And I've never seen him at Delmar before. Have you?"
"Nope. First time I saw him was at dinner. And I've yet to even talk to him."
"Believe me, I wouldn't have minded if you had stolen an hour from our conversation. Not exactly the highlight of my night."
"And what was that, Max?"
"Now you're just trying to make me blush."
We had another drink, talked a little more about Lee Endicott and Bill, then decided that it was getting late, and we needed to discuss dinner plans. I wasn't in any hurry to settle in for a meal just yet, and Imogen agreed. Instead, we put off our supper decision until after we both had finished our drinks.
"I might want to head back to the office for a bit," she said.
My phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. It was John Carrington.
"Hold that thought," I said, then answered the phone.
"Max," he said.
He didn't even need to hear my voice this time. But he was the one calling me.
"Mr. Carrington," I said.
"So formal," he said. "Do you have a second?"
Of course I had a second. I always had a second when I was sipping on a scotch.
"What's up?"
"We've done some checking on the phone number that left the voicemail," he said.
"The one on Alese's phone?"
"Yes, Max. The threatening one."
"We tried as well. Called the carrier and requested the number. We got a 'we're working on it' response."
"It's a little different when we call. Sometimes."
"Good to hear. And?"
"Well, you're lucky. This is one of the sometimes. They told me that the number came out of Manhattan. But that's all they know. And that's all they are going to be able to find out. They said they think that the number was bounced around many times to hide its identity. It's untraceable. They're not even sure that the number originated in Manhattan. It's just their best guess."
"I'll take it. Better than nothing," I said.
"Well, I'm glad to hear you say that because it might just be…nothing."
I thanked John for his time and for digging on my behalf, and he gave me the 'we're colleagues' line even though he couldn't remotely think of Imogen and me as his equals or peers. Then he disconnected.
"What was that all about?" Imogen asked.
"Alese Steiner."
"And," she said.
"And they traced the call."
"The voicemail?"
"That's the one. He said they think the call was made from Manhattan."
"Really?" she asked.
"Indeed."
"What do you think about that?"
"I think that it's likely. More likely than the places that those letters came from."
"I would say that you're right. At least Manhattan is in the same state."
I filled Imogen in on the rest of our conversation.
"Better than nothing," she said.
"Hey, that's what I said."
"I know. I was listening."
"Anyway, what were you saying just before John called?"
"Not important. So, what do you want to do about dinner?" she asked, finishing off her drink.
"Cook something at home?" I asked.
Imogen laughed.
"Really?" she asked, still laughing.
"Of course not! Let's grab something here."
"There's the Max I love."