Brad Meltzer - Dead Even

At first, Conrad was silent. Eventually, he said, “Sounds to me like you might be able to upgrade this case to a homicide. Nice going.”

“Yeah?” Sara asked, her voice rising. Unable to hide her excitement, she beamed with delight. For the first time since Pop went into the hospital, she saw the path for saving Jared.

“Between Claire and Kozlow, we’ve got too many fishy actions in too short a time span,” Conrad said.

“Oh, man, I can’t believe it,” Sara said, pounding her desk. “I knew this case had something to it. Now who do we charge with murder? Both of them or just one?”

“You tell me. Who do you think is the killer?”

“I think Claire is full of crap, but I don’t think she’s the one who did the deed. My guess is she hired Kozlow to give the injection.”

“And maybe the so-called stolen watch and golf ball were payment for the kill,” Guff added. “If we check Claire’s bank accounts, we’ll be able to see if she was out of cash or not.”

“Great. Perfect. Let’s get those as soon as possible,” Sara said. “I don’t want to waste any time with this.” Turning to Conrad, she asked, “What else can we do?”

“If I were you, before I filed new charges, I’d do some more research. You have the how , but to make a good murder case, you need to know the why . Look into Claire Doniger’s cash flow, check out Arnold Doniger’s will, find anything you can that would suggest a motive. And when you have that, file new charges with a new complaint and rearrest the party you want to charge. You have a lot of work ahead of you, but you’re well on your way.” Conrad stood and walked to the door. “Meanwhile, I hate to run, but I really have to get back to my work for a change. Keep me informed about what you find.”

“You can count on that,” Sara said. “And thanks again for filling in for me today – you have no idea how much that meant to me. Really. Thank you. For everything.”

“Anytime,” Conrad said.

As Conrad left, Guff watched his boss. She was already feverishly writing up a to-do list. “Don’t worry,” Guff said. “We’re going to be able to save him.”

“Only if we’re organized. That’s the only way to beat him.” Seeing that Conrad was gone, Sara carefully picked up her briefcase and set it down on her desk in front of Guff. “Can you take this down and have it fingerprinted for me?”

“Why?” Guff asked.

“Because when I was rushing to get to court on time, I was lucky enough to once again meet up with Sunken Cheeks.”

“He was in the courthouse?”

“Spying on me,” Sara said. “And since we still don’t know who he is, I did the only thing I could think of – I swung my briefcase at him, hoping he would catch it.”

“So now you have the fingerprints on this bad boy?” Guff asked. When Sara nodded, he added, “You’re one sneaky son of a bitch, y’know that?”

“I try,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “And you, Mr. Guff – thanks again for saving my butt.”

“It was nothing. To be honest, Conrad was dying to fill in. And watching him confront Jared was well worth the price of admission.”

“I still don’t understand why he did that.”

“What’s to understand? He’s got the hots for you.”

“Oh, please. Conrad’s got no hots.”

“Sara, through poor planning and bad timing, you almost missed today’s arraignment. You didn’t call to make sure you were covered, you didn’t have anyone to back you up, you just plain missed it. And what was Conrad’s reaction? Did he ream you? No. Did he make the big vein appear on his forehead? No. Instead, he said, ‘Oh, I’ll cover for her – no big deal.’ Anyone else he would’ve slaughtered. But you, he covers.”

“Maybe he’s just calming down as he gets older.”

“Conrad’ll never calm down. We’re talking about a man who, even when he stays in a hotel, makes his own bed. That’s the person you think is calming down? The only reason he got in Jared’s face is because he’s got the hots for you.”

“I wouldn’t read too much into it,” Sara said. “He was just doing me a favor.”

Later that evening, Jared took a cab across town to the Upper East Side. Amid the designer boutiques and stylish storefront cafés that lined Madison Avenue was the home office of Lenny Barrow. Located on Madison and East Sixty-fifth Street, above a boutique that sold overpriced children’s clothes, was a sign that read SURE YOU KNOW WHERE HE IS? LEONARD BARROW – PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR. Entering through a narrow doorway next to the clothing store, Jared walked upstairs and knocked on Barrow’s door.

Barrow greeted him wearing a sport coat and a tie. “What’re you so dressed up for?” Jared asked.

“You know how it is in this neighborhood,” Barrow said as he pulled off his jacket and loosened his tie. “Everyone’s got to make an impression.” He walked back to his desk and slouched down in his beat-up leather chair. The office was cramped and tiny, but Barrow knew the location guaranteed a clientele who’d pay their bills on time. “Now what’s so important that you had to come all the way over here?” he asked.

“To be honest, I’m scared of even talking in my office anymore,” Jared explained. “The walls have ears.”

“All walls have ears. The important question is, who’s listening?”

“I know who’s listening. That’s why I want to know what else you found.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I did some digging into corporate records and found out that Rafferty’s company, Echo Enterprises, is co-owned by our dearly departed chum, Arnold Doniger.”

“What?” Jared asked.

“They’ve been partners for years – built it into a real gold mine.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. So Rafferty had Arnold killed to get control of the business?”

“Depends who gets the business,” Barrow said. “Time will tell.”

“What about the tap on Rafferty’s phone? Is that set up yet?”

“I meant to put it in yesterday, but I didn’t have time. I checked his phone bills, though.”

“And?”

“And nothing. Local calls aren’t itemized, so I can’t see who he’s calling. Sara can get them, though. The DA’s office can have them itemize everything.”

“I don’t care about the DA’s office. In fact, don’t mention them anymore – they’re not going to help us. I need information that’s accessible now. Understand?”

Tapping his thumbs on his desk, Barrow stared at his friend. “I take it there’s still a problem in the bridal suite.”

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t directed at you. Sara and I are just hitting a few speed bumps.”

“I think having you move out is a little worse than a speed bump.”

“How’d you know I moved out?”

“It’s my business to know.”

“Okay, so Kathleen told you.”

“Of course Kathleen told me. What do you expect? She’s worried about you. Says you’re starting to get obsessive – even refusing another piece of movie memorabilia.”

“That has nothing to do with me moving out. I just want to win the case.”

“And Sara’s given you a few too many reasons to think that’s not possible anymore?”

“It’s hard to explain. It’s just that two days ago, she was down for the count, and now she’s hitting like Muhammad Ali. Everything’s been going her way lately.”

Watching Jared fidget with the tip of his tie, Barrow asked, “You really don’t like losing, do you?”

“I hate it,” Jared said, looking up.

“And the fact that your wife’s the one who’s beating you is making you even crazier.”

“I don’t know. There’s more at stake than that.”