tenants for years, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Is there anything about Mr. Kaiser, either his mannerisms or something else, that strikes you as kind of
strange? Something that stands out as different?”
Don laughed. “Everyone’s different in their own way.
There’s one guy, a psychiatrist on eleven. Different prostitute every Friday night.”
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“Um, I don’t think I needed to know that,” I said. Don
shrugged. “Is there anything about Brett Kaiser, though,
that’s different?”
Don scratched his chin. “Actually, this did seem a little
strange, but I guess I got used to it. Every Tuesday night
at midnight, Mrs. Kaiser leaves the apartment. And about
five seconds after she leaves, this guy comes over.”
“Wait. She just leaves?”
Donald said, “That’s right. Goes to the 24/7 coffee
shop on the corner.”
“How do you know that?”
“Every now and then she’ll bring me a cup of coffee
and a Danish. The bags were always from that shop.”
“Do you have any idea who this guy is? Business
partner? Maybe a lover?”
“Hey, man, I don’t know that much about my tenants’
private lives. But I don’t think so, as far as the gay stuff
goes. He was a real tall guy. Wore sunglasses a lot, even
at night. Looks a little like a G.I. Joe action figure.
Stands real straight, even less personable than Mr.
Kaiser if that’s possible. Even after he’d been coming
over for a few months the guy never even looked me in
the eye. Got the blondest hair I’ve ever seen, kind of
wavy. He comes out at midnight and stays for just about
an hour. Then he leaves at one, and Mrs. Kaiser comes
back just as he’s left.”
“Do you have any idea what he’s doing?”
“No, sir. Shows up, stays an hour, then leaves. No idea
why or who he is, but he never causes trouble and always
seems pleasant enough.”
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Sir?”
“When you buzz him up, what name does he give you?”
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“I don’t buzz him up anymore. By this point I know
he’s okay so I don’t bother.”
“But at the beginning,” I continued, “he must have
given you a name. Do you remember it?”
Don thought for a moment, then he said, “Chester. I
think it was Chester.”
“You sure?” I said.
“Not a hundred percent, but I think so.”
“What else can you tell me about him?” I said. Suddenly Don stood up straight and took several steps back
from me. He straightened his hat, then stepped forward.
I turned around to see a Lincoln pulled up at the curb. Don
was approaching the backseat door, which he opened,
bending over slightly while holding his hat with his free
hand. When the door was fully open, a man stepped out
and nodded at Don.
He was about six feet tall, slightly stocky, a middleaged man who clearly took care of himself. His black hair
was slicked back into a neat coif, and his skin was evenly
tanned. His watch glimmered in the afternoon sun, and I
didn’t need to look closer to know it was real, and had
likely cost nearly as much as my education.
He strode up to the entrance, and I could tell from
the slightly scared look in Don’s eyes that this was
Brett Kaiser.
“Mr. Kaiser,” I said, matching his pace. Not an easy
feat. “My name is Henry Parker. I’m with the New York
Gazette. Can I ask you a few questions?”
Kaiser turned to glare at me, barely breaking stride. “I
have nothing to say to you,” he sniffed.
“Can I ask you what you know about 718 Enterprises?
Do you know a man named Stephen Gaines?”
Kaiser stopped, turned to face me. His eyes were
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cobalt-blue, but there was an anger in them that went well
beyond that of a businessman annoyed at a prying reporter.
who the hell this Gaines fellow is, and I sure as hell am
not going to talk to you about anything else. I—”
“So you know about 718 Enterprises.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You denied knowing Stephen Gaines, but didn’t
deny being aware of a company that was allegedly paying you for lease space in your office building. Why not
deny that as well?”
“Like I said, I have nothing to say to you.”
“One question,” I said. “One question and I’ll leave.”
Kaiser held a moment. I could tell that this man hated
being shackled by a “no comment,” didn’t believe he had
to bow to anybody or pretend his nose was clean. He ran
his business the way he chose, and he’d be damned if
anybody else told him that he might have erred on the
wrong side of the law.
“One question,” he said, “and then if I ever see you
again I’ll have your job taken away faster than you can
clean all this mud off of you.”
Cute line, I thought. It never ceased to amaze me that
men like Kaiser could so calmly keep potentially devastating and illegal secrets, yet somehow I was the bad guy.
“Why?” I said. “Why take their money? Your practice
seems to be thriving. Why take the risk?”
Kaiser opened his mouth, but just as I expected a
lengthy response, a beautiful gem that would perhaps
unravel the spool just a little more, his cell phone rang.
When Kaiser looked at it, I could have sworn his face
went pale. He shoved it back into his pocket, looked at
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me and said, “Goodbye, Mr. Parker,” and walked inside
the building and disappeared into the elevator.
I stood there, trembling, angry that I had felt so close
to getting him. Don came up to me and said, “Sweet
guy, ain’t he?”
“Yeah, he’s going on my Christmas list for sure.” I
watched as the elevator light clicked, bringing Brett
Kaiser to the twentieth floor. I eyed the windows facing
the street. No doubt Kaiser had a great view. Then the
curtains were drawn closed, and I figured Brett Kaiser
was looking for a little privacy.
“Thanks, Don. I appreciate the help. Keep up the good
work, and thanks for being agreeable.”
Don laughed. “Gotta tell my wife that one. ‘Honey,
a reporter told me I was agreeable.’ Not sure if that will
win me points at the dinner table, but it’s a good conversation piece.”
“The least I could do,” I said. “Take it easy, Don.”
I walked to the corner, thinking about my next move.
I wasn’t going back quite empty-handed. Even in his
non-answer, Brett Kaiser had confirmed that he was well
aware of 718 Enterprises. I believed him when he said he
didn’t know about Stephen Gaines. If my brother was
involved in some sort of drug trade, his work on the street
was twenty floors below Brett Kaiser’s penthouse.
I was about to call Jack when I felt my cell phone vibrate.
Assuming it was Jack calling me, I took it out, looked at
the caller ID. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was from
a 646 area code. It wasn’t Jack; he had a 917. Might have
been somebody from Kaiser’s firm calling to threaten me,
could have been a wrong number. Either way it seemed like
a good time to screen my calls. I didn’t want to waste any
time on a conversation that wasn’t vital to the investigation.
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When the phone stopped vibrating, I waited for the
little envelope to appear that signaled I had voice mail. I
called it, plugged in my security code and listened.
And at the first word, my blood ran cold. I knew that
voice. Hadn’t heard it in a long time, but there was no way
I’d ever forget it. I hadn’t spoken to her in almost a year,
when I was dragged kicking and screaming from her office
after she’d tried to ruin the life of the man I admired most.
It was Paulina Cole.
“Henry, this is Paulina. You know the last name, so I
won’t keep you. We need to talk. Off the record. It’s important. You know damn well it’s important because you
can bet I don’t like calling you any more than you like
hearing this message. But we need to talk.”
She left her cell phone number and home phone number. Not her work number. I couldn’t believe her audacity
in calling me, but the fact that she only left her private
lines clearly meant something was up. Something she
didn’t want her bosses at the Dispatch involved in.
And while I was making my mind up whether to call
her back, Brett Kaiser’s apartment exploded in a massive
orange fireball that shot flaming debris half a block and
cascaded smoke down upon Park Avenue.
16
“Who was that?” Morgan asked.
Chester closed the phone, putting it gently back into
his coat pocket. He looked at Morgan blankly and said,
“Just checking my voice mail.” He then offered a smile.
“I didn’t hear voice mail pick up,” Morgan added.
“You one of those dogs, hear high-frequency pitches
and everything?” Chester asked.
The Town Car hit a bump, and Morgan gripped the
armrest. “No.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Because when dogs hear something, they don’t ask questions. But if they start barking,
that’s when their owner is bound to get upset. You get
me, Morgan?”
“I get you.”
“Good,” Chester said. He looked out the window. They
were heading toward the Queens-bound midtown tunnel.
Morgan could make out the East River, Roosevelt Island.
Morgan had never considered living outside of the
city. If he was going to be a power broker, a master of the
universe, he had to live within the castle walls. But now
the powers that be were trying to evict him, trying to get
him to leave the grounds he so desperately wanted to
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remain on. They’d taken his job, his livelihood, his dignity. It was up to him to figure out a way to stay.
So if Chester wanted to bullshit him about who he
was calling, that was fine. Morgan didn’t need to know
everything. As long as the paychecks cleared, that’s all
that mattered.
“We’re almost there,” Chester said. Morgan nodded,
looked out the window across the river.
Somewhere in the distance, he could hear fire trucks
screaming.
17
For at least a minute, I couldn’t hear a thing. The ringing
in my ears pounded like I was being pummeled by a
hammer, and shutting my eyes and clasping my hands
over them didn’t do a thing. A dozen of us had run to the
corner, under the scaffold of a construction site, to escape
the brick and ash that was dropping from the sky like
small mortar shells.
I looked up at the Park Avenue building, still shocked
to see the gaping hole where Brett Kaiser’s apartment had
once been. Where just a moment ago I’d seen his blinds
close. Where just a moment ago I’d questioned the man
about his potentially illegal dealings with a company that
may or may not have been responsible for the death of
my brother.
Where a man and his wife once resided. Where at least
one of them was now dead.
As the world slowly came back into focus, I could hear
the sirens of police cars and fire trucks speeding to the
scene. Onlookers stared at the building with masks of
horror. Mouths open wide, hands covering them, tears
streaming down their faces.
Then I saw Donald, my new good friend, standing
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across the street, his face covered in soot, his lower lip
trembling as he watched flames lick at the open space
where there used to be a window.
Dozens of people were pouring out of the building,
screams and cries when they saw the devastation above
them. Some people wondered whether it was a terrorist
attack, or another prop plane accidentally banking into a
residential building. I wasn’t sure if the truth, that Brett
Kaiser had undoubtedly been murdered, would comfort
them or make it worse.
When the first cop car pulled up, four officers exited
and stood outside of the building looking up. One of them
was barking into a walkie-talkie. I watched a small piece
of gray ash float down and nestle itself on his brown
mustache. He didn’t notice. The other cops looked at it
for a moment, then turned back to the burning building.
A fire truck pulled up, and immediately nearly a dozen
of New York’s finest went to work hooking the hose up
to a hydrant in front of the building. As they did this, I
walked over to the cop car. When he noticed me coming,
one of the officers turned to me.
“Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to step back. We
don’t know how much damage there’s been to the structure of the building.”
“I understand that,” I said, taking my wallet from my
back pocket. I slid my business card out and handed it to
him. “My name is Henry Parker, and I’m with the Gazette. ”
He rolled his eyes and prepared to hand the card back
to me. “Mr. Parker, I—”
“I spoke with Mr. Kaiser. Just minutes before this happened. I don’t know if I was the last person to speak with
him but…I thought someone should have this in case they
need to get in touch with me. If there are any questions.”
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The cop looked at my card, understanding. He nodded,
then slipped it into his uniform. “I’ll give it to the lead
detective,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said. “And good luck.”
He nodded, turning back to the gaping hole in the
brick building.
I walked a few blocks away, making sure I could hear
right again and w
as away from the commotion that would
surely envelop that area for the next few days. I took out my
phone and called Jack. He picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, Henry, good timing. Brett Kaiser left about
twenty minutes ago. I think he’s headed toward you. I
didn’t get much, but if you—”
“Brett Kaiser is dead,” I said. There was a pause on
the other end.
“Wait…what did you say?”
“I said he’s dead, Jack. I caught up with him about ten
minutes ago when he pulled up in front of the building.
I talked to him for about thirty seconds, then he went
upstairs. And less than a minute after that, somebody
turned his apartment into a gigantic barbecue pit.”
“Wait a damn minute,” Jack said. His voice was
uneven, shaky. I’d never heard Jack like this before.
Scared. It put a lump in my stomach, as the enormity of
it all began to sink in. “You’re saying somebody killed
Brett Kaiser?”
“A few times over,” I said. “Somebody wanted to make
sure he didn’t have a chance to talk to anyone. But I do
know that he knows about 718 Enterprises, and if I’d had
him another minute he would have spilled everything.”
“Jesus, be careful, Henry. It’s possible somebody saw
him talking to you.”
“Wait, no way, how could they…”
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“Don’t be stupid,” Jack said. “If someone knows he was
talking to you, they might think he told you something.”
“But he didn’t,” I said, pleading my case with nobody.
“Whoever killed him doesn’t know that,” Jack said.
“Be careful. Meet me back at the office in half an hour.”
“No can do,” I said, unsure of why I was going to do
this but sure that I needed to.
“And why the hell not?”
I couldn’t tell Jack. If he knew, it would toss our whole
relationship into jeopardy. But we had the same blood,
the same gene that refused to allow us a moment’s breath,
that refused to give us rest if there was one unanswered
question. But Paulina had nearly ruined his career. And
he couldn’t know.
“I have to meet someone,” I said. “A source. I’ll be
back in a couple hours. We’ll catch up then.”
“Fine, Henry. But watch your back.”
“I will,” I said, and then hung up to go meet the one
person I was absolutely sure would never have my back.
I opened the phone back up, and called Paulina Cole.