Harlan Coben - The Final Detail

“Did Clu visit Billy Lee a lot?”

“Well, Clu's been out of town,” she said, a little too defensively. “He was only traded back to this area a few months ago. But of course, you know that.”

“So this was just a casual visit?”

“I thought so at the time.”

“And now?”

“Now my son is missing and Clu is dead.”

Myron thought about it. “Where does he usually go when he runs off like this?”

“Wherever. Billy Lee is a bit of a nomad. He goes off, he does whatever horrible thing he does to himself, and when he hits rock bottom, he comes back here.”

“So you don't know where he is?”

“That's right.”

“Any idea at all?”

“No.”

“No favorite haunts?”

“No.”

“A girlfriend maybe?”

“No one I know about anyway.”

“Any close friends he might stay with?”

“No,” she said slowly. “He has no friends like that.”

Myron took out his card and handed it to her. “If you hear from him, Mrs. Palms, could you please let me know?”

She studied the card as they moved out of the room and back down the stairs.

Before she opened the door, Mrs. Palms said, “You were the basketball player.”

“Yes.”

“The one who hurt his knee.”

First preseason game as a pro. Myron had been the Boston Celtics' first-round draft pick. A terrible collision and his career was over. Just like that. Finished before it started. “Yes.”

“You managed to put it behind you,” she said. “You managed to get on with your life and be happy and productive.” She cocked her head. “Why couldn't Billy Lee?”

Myron had no answer-in part because he was not sure her supposition was entirely accurate. He said his goodbyes and left her alone with her ghosts.

Myron checked his watch. Dinnertime. Mom and Dad were expecting him. He'd hit the Garden State Parkway when the cell phone rang again.

“Are you in the car?” Win asked. Always with the pleasantries.

“Yes.”

“Flip on 1010 WINS. I'll call back.”

One of New York's all-news radio stations. Myron did as he was told. The guy in the helicopter was finishing up the traffic report. He handed it back to the woman at the news desk. She provided the teaser: “The latest bombshell in the murder of baseball superstar Clu Haid. In sixty seconds.”

It was a long sixty seconds. Myron had to put up with a truly annoying Dunkin' Donuts commercial, and then some excited bozo had a way of turning five thousand dollars into twenty thousand dollars, though a softer, fast-speaking voice added that it didn't work all the time and in fact you could lose money too and probably would and you'd have to be a major moron to take investment advice from a radio ad. Finally the woman at the news desk came back on. She told the audience her name-like anyone cared-the name of her male counterpart, and the time. Then:

“ABC is reporting from an anonymous source in the Bergen County district attorney's office that hairs and quote other bodily materials unquote matching the murder suspect Esperanza Diaz have been found at the murder scene. According to the source, DNA tests are pending, but preliminary tests show a clear match with Ms. Diaz. The source also says that the hairs, some small, were found in various locations throughout the house.”

Myron felt a flutter beneath his heart. Small hairs, he thought. Euphemism for pubic.

“No further details are available, but the district attorney's office clearly believes that Mr. Clu Haid and Ms. Esperanza Diaz were having a sexual relationship. Stay tuned to 1010 WINS for all the details.”

The cell phone rang. Myron picked it up. “Jesus Christ.”

“Not even close,” Win said.

“I'll call you right back.” Myron hung up. He called Hester Crimstein's office. The secretary said that Ms. Crimstein was unavailable. Myron stressed that this was urgent. Ms. Crimstein was still unavailable. But, Myron asked, doesn't Ms. Crimstein have a cell phone? The secretary disconnected the call. Myron hit the memory button. Win picked up.

“What's your take on this?” Myron asked.

“Esperanza was sleeping with him,” Win said.

“Maybe not.”

“Yes, of course,” Win said. “Perhaps someone planted Esperanza's pubic hairs at the murder scene.”

“It could be a false leak.”

“Could be.”

“Or maybe she visited his apartment. To talk business.”

“And left stray pubic hairs behind?”

“Maybe she used the bathroom. Maybe she-”

“Myron?”

“What?”

“Please don't go into further detail, thank you. There is something else to consider.”

“What?”

“The E-Z Pass records.”

“Right,” Myron said. “She crossed the Washington Bridge an hour after the murder. We know that. But maybe that fits now. Esperanza and Clu have a big argument at the parking garage. Esperanza wants to clear the air. So she drives out to his apartment.”

“And when she gets there?”

“I don't know. Maybe she saw the body and panicked.”

“Yes, of course,” Win said. “So she ripped out a few pubic hairs and ran.”

“I didn't say it was her first visit out there.”

“Indeed not.”

“What do you mean?”

“The E-Z Pass records for the Ford Taurus. According to the bill that arrived last week, the car crossed the bridge eighteen times in the past month.”

Myron frowned. “You're kidding.”

“Yes, I am a mirthful fellow. I also took the liberty of checking the month before. Sixteen crosses of the Washington Bridge.”

“Maybe she had another reason for going out to North Jersey.”

“Yes, of course. The malls in Paramus are quite an attraction.”

“Okay,” Myron said. “Let's assume they were having an affair.”

“That would seem most prudent, especially since it offers a reasonable explanation for much that has happened.”

“How's that?”

“It would explain Esperanza's silence.”

“How?”

“Lovers always make wonderful suspects,” Win said. “If, for example, Esperanza and Clu were dancing the sheet mambo, then we can assume that the altercation in the parking garage was something of a lovers' tiff. All in all, this development looks bad for her. She would want to hide it.”

“But from us?” Myron countered.

“Yes.”

“Why? She trusts us.”

“Several reasons come to mind. Her attorney probably ordered her not to say anything.”

“That wouldn't stop her.”

“It might. But more important, Esperanza was probably embarrassed. You have recently promoted her to partner. She was in charge of the entire operation. I know that you believe Esperanza is too tough to care about such things, but I do not think she would relish your disapproval.”

Myron mulled that one over. It made some sense, but he wasn't sure he bought it entirely. “I still think we're missing something.”

“That's because we're ignoring the strongest motive for her keeping silent.”

“That being?”

“She killed him.”

Win hung up on that cheery note. Myron took Northfield Avenue toward Livingston. The familiar landmarks of his hometown popped into view. He thought about the news report and what Win had said. Could Esperanza be the mystery woman, the reason for Clu and Bonnie's breakup? If so, why wouldn't Bonnie say that? Maybe she didn't know. Or maybe-

Hold the phone.

Maybe Clu and Esperanza met up at Take A Guess. Did they go there together or just bump into each other? Is that how the affair started? Did they go there and participate in -in whatever? Maybe it was an accident. Maybe they both arrived there in disguise and didn't realize who they were until, well, it was too late to stop? Did that make sense?