Animal Instinct by Rosenfelt, David (novels for students TXT) 📕

“How did you know I was there?”

“My assistant recognized your face; she was also Gerald Kline’s assistant, so she has an interest in media coverage of his death. And she surreptitiously photographed you as you were leaving, just to be sure.”

“Sounds like a terrific assistant; you should hang on to her. So can we talk?”

“I believe that’s what we’re doing now.”

“I meant in person.”

It takes about thirty seconds for her to respond; at first I’m not sure if she has silently hung up. Then, “I suppose so. It will be one of life’s adventures.”

“Where would you like to have this adventure?”

“Someplace public; I’m curious, but not crazy. Do you know the Suburban Diner on Route Seventeen?”

“I do. I ate there last week.”

“Shall we say three o’clock? That way it won’t be too noisy, but will still be public.”

“Perfect. See you then. You can recognize me from the picture your assistant took.”

Dani, Simon, and I go for a late lunch at a favorite place of ours in Ridgefield Park, where we can eat outdoors. We take two cars, so she can take Simon home and I can go on to the Suburban Diner.

We eat at an outside table in deference to the ridiculous rule that Simon cannot eat indoors. He’s a lot cleaner and neater than quite a few people I know, me included. To reduce his embarrassment, we order him a plate of grilled vegetables and a bowl of water.

At three o’clock, having eaten a lovely lunch and then sent Dani and Simon home, I enter the Suburban Diner and don’t see Stephanie Downes anywhere. I take a table near the back and hope that she hasn’t decided this was a bad idea.

At three fifteen she comes in, sees me, and walks to the table. “You look just like your picture.” She sits down. “Did you also take a good mug shot?”

“I forgot to smile.”

“Don’t you hate when that happens?”

This is a self-confident woman, comfortable bantering with a man she thinks slashed her partner’s throat. Or maybe she’s just nuts.

She signals a waitress and orders coffee and a fruit plate; I opt for just coffee. Once the coffee is served, she says, “You have the floor.”

“I’m trying to discover who killed Gerald Kline.”

“I was under the impression that that crime was solved.”

“I’m under a different impression, so humor me. I’m not expecting you to tell me it was Mr. Plum in the library, though I’m fine if you do. I just want to understand how Kline lived, who he associated with, that kind of thing.”

“I know much less than you’d expect.” Apparently she’s willing to keep talking to me.

“He was your partner for how many years?”

“The very premise of your question is incorrect. We shared a business and both of our names were on the masthead, but we were not partners, not in the traditional sense. At least not for a while.”

“Elaboration would be good, and appreciated.”

She takes a sip of coffee and settles into her story. “We were both in this business, starting out on our own. This is going back a while now. We were competitors, of a sort, and decided to join forces. It made sense economically, and together we controlled much of the market, so we got an enhanced reputation. But within our company we kept separate accounts. Each of us made what we earned, and we shared the common expenses. It worked well, at least until you or some other person put a gruesome end to it.”

“What happens to his clients now?”

“Hopefully I’ll get my share.” Then, “Aha, a motive to kill. Is that what you think?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s a worthy motive, but it doesn’t fit. Because whoever killed Kline likely killed Lisa Yates.”

“Lisa. That was a shame.”

“You knew her? Then is there any chance you killed them both? If you’d confess, it would make my job a lot easier.”

“Sorry; can’t help you there. I met her a few times at industry events; she was with Gerald. Seemed lovely, which is why they seemed mismatched.”

“You didn’t like Gerald?”

“I did not. He had a way about him, a charisma, which one needs in this industry. You saw me demonstrate it onstage, I suspect. But while he could turn on the charm at will, his veneer was thinner than most, and he was a very disagreeable man.

“But you seem like an agreeable man … for a murderer.” Again, she has no reason to trust me, but she certainly isn’t acting like I might actually be a murderer.

“You’re making me blush,” I say.

“YOU want the good news, or the better news?”

Sam Willis is asking the question, and I have to say I like the way he phrased it. He’s called a meeting to tell us what he’s found and asked for the entire team, including Andy, to be present. Sam seems to like an audience.

The meeting did not start well. Before Sam showed up, Laurie and Marcus told us that Marcus has been unable to identify the shooter of Lisa Yates. Considering Marcus’s connections and power of persuasion, that is a significant disappointment and a surprise to Laurie.

Everybody, including me, is of the belief that big money must have been paid, big enough to have the shooter keep his mouth shut. Or perhaps he is afraid of his employer and thinks that an indiscretion could either be dangerous or an impediment to future employment. Or perhaps he was brought in from out of town.

We’re guessing a lot here.

But now Sam has arrived, and his opening salvo is promising. Andy answers his question by saying, “Just tell us everything, Sam. The order is not important.”

Sam nods. “Okay, the good news is that I have identified three cell phones that were in Kline’s house within a couple of hours of the time he was killed. Four, if we count yours, Corey. One of the other three belonged to Kline; it was registered in his name. A second one,