Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (types of ebook readers txt) 📕

I explained who I was and how she could help me. She put me on hold for another ten minutes. Then a voice like a Valkyrie with a parking ticket said, “Adamopolous speaking.”

“Ms. Adamopolous, my name is Detective John Stone, with the NYPD. I am trying to get hold of Jackson Lee. I believe he used to work at your firm in your department.”

“Yeah, nine years ago. What do you want him for?”

“We don’t want him for anything. We just want to ask him a few questions.”

“Is he a suspect in a crime?”

“No, would that make a difference?”

“It could.”

“Is he your client?”

“… no.”

“Then it couldn’t. Do you know where I can contact him?”

“I know he had an apartment in Manhattan. I’ll see if I can find out. I’ll call you back…”

“No. I’ll hold.”

I heard her sigh. “Sure…”

I heard her get up from her desk and after a moment there was a quiet, muttered conversation. After a couple of minutes, she came back. “Detective Stone?”

“Did he say he wasn’t in?”

She was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t speak to him. I can give you his Manhattan number, but I believe he is at his house in Oyster Bay. I’m afraid I haven’t got the address or the number.”

“Thank you for your help, Ms. Adamopolous.”

I phoned his Manhattan number and got a Latin-American woman who pretended not to understand me. When I finally persuaded I was not going to arrest Señor Lee she told me she thought he was at Oyster Bay and didn’t know when he would be back. After a little more persuasion, she finally gave me the address and the number at Oyster Bay. I dialed and it rang five times. Then, a pleasant voice said, “This is the Lee residence.”

“Is that Mr. Jackson Lee?”

“No, sir, Mr. Lee is not available at the moment. Who is this?”

“This is Detective John Stone of the New York Police Department. I need to speak to Mr. Lee.”

“As I say, I am afraid he is not available.”

“Well, when will he be available?”

“I am afraid I don’t know.”

“How can I get hold of him?”

“I don’t know that, either.”

“Where is he?”

“He is away, traveling, detective. And I am not sure when he will return. If you like, when he next contacts me, I can pass on your message and ask him to contact you.”

“That would be very kind. Who are you?”

“I am Peter Hollis, Mr. Lee’s personal secretary.”

I squeezed a cheerfulness into my voice that I did not feel and said, “Well, thanks for your help, Mr. Hollis. I’ll hope to hear from him soon.”

“That’s my pleasure, detective. Good day.”

I flopped back in my chair and stretched noisily. Then I stared at Dehan for a while. She was staring at the screen of her laptop. She spoke without looking at me. “Did you find him?”

“Yup. He’s at Oyster Bay.”

“We’ve been there before.”

“Don’t remind me.[2]”

“You talk to him? Is he willing to see us?”

“Not exactly. He thinks I think that he’s traveling around the world in eighty days and he’ll call us when he gets my message.”

“Oh.” She heaved a big sigh, rubbed her eyes, and stretched. I heard her spine crunch and clunk. She switched off her laptop and closed the lid as she spoke. “So are we going to surprise him? What’s the plan?”

I studied her for a long moment. “You are. You are going to surprise him. You want to drive?”

She grinned. “This sounds like fun. Sure.”

“Great. We’ll get some lunch on the way back.”

She stood. “Can we get some lunch now?”

I grabbed my coat. “Now? It’s eleven thirty.”

She shoved her hat on her head and stepped into the relentless rain.

“Not in Bermuda, it’s not.”

Nine

It was a long, tedious drive south over the Throgs Neck Bridge to Long Island, and then east on the Long Island Expressway. Even the most beautiful landscape on Earth can look ugly if you throw enough gray rain and slow-moving traffic at it. And there was plenty of both that day on Long Island. A drive that should have taken forty-five minutes took us an hour.

All the way across the bridge, Dehan sat and stared at the massive, slow sheet of dark water beneath us. At one point, she said, “My dad used to bring us this way, in the summer, sometimes.”

I smiled and asked, “Yeah? You spent summer vacations out here?”

She nodded, but kept staring at the water.

At Alley Park, we turned east onto the Expressway, over the marshy woodland beneath. There she heaved a big sigh and turned to smile at me. It wasn’t a happy smile, but it was a smile.

“So you going to be seeing Shelly again?”

I was a little surprised by the question. “You pointed out yesterday that she was a potential suspect, and you were right. It looks as though she might be in Hennessy’s pocket.”

She gave a non-committal shrug. “Or she might be a feminist sticking up for a politician she believes in.”

I frowned at her and grunted.

“If she’s on the level, after the investigation, will you see her again?”

I smiled. “This again? What is it with you and trying to get me fixed up?”

She shrugged and returned to staring at the traffic. About five minutes later, she said, “I wasn’t trying to fix you up. I was just wondering if you liked her.”

I suddenly had the weird feeling that I had stepped through a door into a totally alien landscape, and the person sitting next to me was no longer my partner but a complete stranger. I wanted to ask her what the hell had been eating her for the last couple of days,