Mike Offit: Nothing Personal: A Novel of Wall Street

“Fuck Anna. She had everything handed to her. She shouldn’t have been skiing out of bounds anyway. All I did was point her the wrong way. You’re an asshole, Warren. You’re just like the rest of them. No better. Don’t kid yourself.” She still held the knife. “What are you going to do? You and your fucking tennis.”

“No. You’re going to put down the knife, and we’re going to get you a good doctor. Maybe in another country. We can both afford it. So you killed Billy and Anson. Who cares? They were useless sacks of shit anyway.” He backed up a little, and Larisa moved away from the bed toward him. “Come on. I’m on your side. I still love you. We’ll figure a way out of this.”

“I killed them for you. You have to know that. They were in the way. That pompous idiot Dougherty, he was already dead, he just didn’t know it. Inbred moron. You are so much smarter than him. And Anson? I only fucked him once to find out what he was going to do. He was trying to get you fired, you know. He would’ve too. But he liked me. He told me everything. In Dallas, that time. I stopped him. For you.” Her eyes were wild. “I didn’t even kill that bitch he was screwing when I smashed his fucking skull. But I should have. Fucking slut.” Larisa reached down with the knife and, the blade turned backward, slit the turtleneck shirt from the bottom to her throat. It hung open, showing her chest.

“Larisa, stop now. It’s enough. How was Anna for me? To open up a recruiting spot for you?” Warren couldn’t back up any farther. He was against the closet doorframe.

“It just worked out. She was drunk and tired, and all I did was point her the wrong way. And Serena too. She went down those stairs like a sack of potatoes. But I cracked her head on the stair after, just to be sure. She would have gotten your spot, you idiot. Anna would never have beat me out for the spot at Weldon, but the chance came and I took it. I didn’t even have to push her, she just skied right past me and over the edge.” Larisa laughed. “You shoulda heard her wail. But, besides, I had you working for me, right? I was in no matter what, Mr. Superstar. That was a long time ago. Come on, Warren, finish it. Everything is always my fault anyway, right? Take this knife away from me. Put it right here.” She ran her hand between her breasts, then cupped one, rolling its nipple between her fingers. “You love my tits, don’t you? All you fucking assholes love these things. Dutch Goering used to tell me how he wanted to fuck me there. He had such a nice cock too. I loved to suck on it.” The knife was coming up slowly.

“Jesus Christ, Larisa, come on.”

“What? You can’t take it?” She had the knife up now, slowly moving toward him. “Come on, Warren, you walked out on me. I knew you would come back to me once this useless cunt was dead. Now let’s see if you’ve got any guts.”

“Larisa, cut it out. Put the knife down. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me ?” She laughed and kept coming, backing him up to the wall, still held off by the steel racquet. She paused for a moment, looking for an opening, and he took the opportunity.

“It’s time for you to meet someone.” Warren pronounced the words loudly, a preset trigger to action.

“That’s about enough, Miss Mueller.” The light came on by the bed, behind her. Detective Wittlin, who looked a little silly with Warren’s pajamas over his clothes and a bulletproof vest, held a 9 mm pistol in his right hand. “We don’t need anybody else getting hurt.” He had climbed out of the bed behind her while she was confronting Warren. He stepped around it while she was still stunned, and twisted the knife out of her hand with a smooth motion, then stepped away. “Mr. Hament, do me a favor and put that thing away before someone makes a stupid joke.”

Dick McDermott and a uniformed officer came into the room, with Sam trailing them. The patrolman couldn’t help but notice Larisa’s chest, and he took off his jacket, handing it to her with a look of remorse. She put it on as if in a trance, then Wittlin handcuffed her.

A compact, wiry man came out from under the bed. “I think it came out perfectly.” He had a bulky recording deck with him, which trailed a thin wire to a tiny camera on top of the armoire. “The new night-vision camera worked pretty well.”

“You’re pathetic, Warren,” Larisa spat at him. “Pathetic.” The impact of what was happening had finally hit her. “Without me, you’re going nowhere . You fucking idiot .” She spat the words at him, enraged.

“I’m sorry, Miss Mueller. You are under arrest for the murders of Anson Combes and William Dougherty, and Anna Meladandri. And Serena, whoever she is. I am Detective Lieutenant McDermott of the New York City Police Department Homicide Squad. I want to advise you of your rights. ‘You have the right to remain silent. Anything…’”

As McDermott read Larisa her rights, she looked at Warren with disgust. “You pansy. You fucking wimp. You owe everything to me. You’d still be some little trainee in diapers.” McDermott paused while she spat out the words, then kept going. The tech collected the machinery, and Wittlin sat on the bed.

Warren looked at her, his shoulders sagging. “Larisa, I had everything anyway. Not everyone is in the rush you were. It was enough for me.” She was a striking sight, her arms pinned behind her, the long red-gold hair falling over her shoulders, her eyes ablaze, her mouth curled in contempt. She struggled a bit when the policemen took her away, but didn’t say anything.

“I don’t believe it.” Wittlin shook his head from side to side. “We only had to follow her for two nights, and she showed up like clockwork. How did you figure it out?”

“It was the photo from Bonnie’s building. I thought I might recognize the scarf.” Warren smiled and sat down next to Wittlin.

“So why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I didn’t even realize it until much later. Also, I figured she’d have gotten rid of it, and then if you’d asked about it, she’d have known you were on her case.”

“That’s complicated reasoning. Okay. How’d you know she was going to try for your girlfriend here?”

“Fiancée, Detective.” Sam smiled at him. “Well, I guess I tried to provoke her. Make sure her sister told her how awesome Sam is, let her know I wasn’t without options. Then she sent a spousal life insurance application to Sam. I asked HR. They didn’t send it. It was a dumb mistake, but her temper got the best of her.” Warren gestured in bewilderment. “I guess she wanted to punish me.”

Sam walked over and shoved him down on the bed. “Options? I’ve always wanted to be live bait. Big step up from car-rental jockey.”

Warren let out a little laugh.

“Insurance application? Why didn’t you tell me about it?” Wittlin seemed annoyed.

“No insult intended, but having the police department suddenly sniffing around HR could only have tipped her off. You told me yourself you had no evidence, that the DA would only indict with a confession. So I made their job easy.” Warren got up. “I got them their confession.”

“Yeah. The DA is kind of a joke with investigations, that’s true. But, I’ve gotta be honest with you…” Wittlin looked a little sheepish.

“I know. You guys figured I had something to do with it all.”

“Yup. Or your dad. He was in town for all the murders. I guess there is such a thing as coincidence. McDermott owes me a hundred bucks, though. That’s why he was so testy.”

“Well, I’m glad you had faith in me. I’m flattered.” Warren touched his fingers to his brow in a mock salute.

“Don’t be. I laid off fifty of it with our captain.” Wittlin stood up. “Anyway, I’m glad to see this case closed. If we lost any more investment bankers, the whole city’d shut down.” He walked to the door.