“Hey, I read about that!” He signaled to the waitress. “What are you drinking?”
“Just a Corona for me. It’s a bit early in the evening.”
He ordered the same, and when the beers arrived he ceased the casual chatter and came to the point. “It’s about this new racetrack near the Catskills. It’s going to be a really class place, with the Gateway resort hotel and casino already open. They were forever trying to get state approval. You know how those things are, owned by Native Americans but operated by professionals.” He took a sip of beer, collecting foam on his moustache. “I have two things I wanted to ask you about. First, might Mayfield’s be interested in opening a branch in the hotel? They’re developing a little street of luxury shops.”
Susan smiled and shook her head. “That’s out of my hands. New branches are a top management decision. It took them months of meetings to approve the Dawn Neptune branch.”
“All right,” he said. “It was worth a try. Here’s the second thing. I don’t know how you’re fixed financially, but there’s a great opportunity for new investors in this place.”
She simply stared at him. “You’re asking me to invest my money in it?”
“Look, Susan, you’ve got a top job at Mayfield’s now, earning big bucks. You get in on the ground floor here and you’ll be set for life.”
“Sorry, Mike, I can’t do it.”
He lowered his voice a notch. “I’ve got the inside dope on this track. I can’t go into detail, but once this place is up and running it’ll be a gold mine for bettors with the right information.”
“And when will that be?”
“The hotel is open now, and they’re putting the finishing touches on the track and grandstand. We hope to have racing by the end of next month. The track itself was designed by a Chinese expert, Lam Kow Loon. He’s done a number of tracks in China and one in Hong Kong.”
Somehow the entire thing struck her as funny. He wasn’t trying to seduce her after all, just persuade her to invest in a racetrack. Susan downed the rest of her beer. “I’m sorry, Mike, but I’m not the person you want. I’ve no loose change for investments of that sort.”
He wasn’t quite ready to give up. “Look, the Memorial Day weekend is coming. Can I drive you up there to look the place over? We could stay at the new hotel... Separate rooms, of course.”
Then she had to laugh. “I can’t. You’re a nice guy, but I guess we’re on different wavelengths. Have a good holiday.”
“Susan—”
“I have to get going now.” She stood up. “Thanks for the beer. Good seeing you again, Mike.”
The Memorial Day weekend started out on the cool side, but Susan didn’t care. Her closest friend was out of town and she looked forward to just relaxing. She went for a run in Central Park on Saturday morning and returned to her apartment invigorated just after noon. The phone was ringing as she walked in the door. She recognized Mike Brentnor’s voice at once.
“Susan, I need help! I’m in big trouble up here.” She could hear noise in the background, perhaps a television.
“What’s going on? Where are you?”
“I’m with some people. They left me alone for a minute so I’m taking a chance and calling you. They’re dangerous. They’ve got guns.”
“You should call the police instead of me.”
“No! Listen, Susan, you have to come up here today.”
“I can’t—”
“Please, I’m begging you. I have no one else to ask. I’m staying at the Big Bear Inn near Middletown on route 86, but I’m not there now.”
“What do you want of me, Mike?” she asked.
“It’s that racetrack thing I was telling you about. These people need some plans that I have. I want you to get them for me.”
“Mike, this is crazy. I’m calling the police.”
“If you do that, they might kill me. Listen, all you have to do is go to the Big Bear Inn and pick up a portfolio being held for me at the front desk.”
“Why can’t you do it yourself?”
“They won’t let me go. I’ll explain later, but right now I need your help. You can drive up here in a couple of hours and it’ll all be over.”
For anyone else it would have been an easy decision to hang up the phone and call the police. Or else simply forget the whole thing. If Mike Brentnor had gotten himself into a jam he’d have to get himself out or suffer the consequences. She couldn’t imagine why he would reappear in her life now, with this crazy story about a racetrack.
And then something clicked in her memory. Mike knew that she’d been involved in several crime investigations in the past, and thought of herself as something of a detective. Maybe that’s why he’d turned to her for help.
“All right,” she heard herself say. “I’ll do it. I’ll just ask for your portfolio at the desk?”
“That’s right. I’ll call them and describe you, tell them it’s all right.”
“Look, Mike, why couldn’t one of these people you’re involved with do the same thing?”
“I can’t let them get the portfolio. It’s the only evidence I have against them.”
“If I get this thing, where’ll I bring it?”
“I’m at One Twenty-four Summit Street, but keep the portfolio hidden after you get it. Someone at the hotel can give you directions here. I’m hoping they’ll let me go without having the portfolio, but I’ll trade it for my life if I have to.”
“All right,” she told him, hoping she wouldn’t regret her decision. “I can start out in about a half-hour.”
“They’re coming back!” he said quickly, breaking the connection.
Susan expected the traffic to be fierce on Saturday afternoon of Memorial Day weekend, but most travelers must have gotten a Friday head start. Once she crossed the Tappan Zee Bridge things moved right along and she found the Big Bear Inn along the new route 86 without difficulty. The room clerk was an attractive brunette woman with pale skin and a nametag that read Rita.
“I’m here to pick up a portfolio for Mike Brentnor,” she said.
“What’s your name?”
“Susan Holt.”
Rita nodded. “He called to say you’d be coming by.” Reaching under the desk she produced a brown leatherette case of the sort artists or architects might carry.
“Thanks,” Susan said. “Can you give me directions to Summit Street?”
“Turn right at the next stoplight. That’s Summit.”
She put the portfolio in the trunk of her car, under a blanket, and tried calling Mike, but there was no answer. The address was easy to find, a gray two-story house in need of repair. She pulled in the driveway and rang the doorbell. From somewhere inside she heard Mike yelling. She tried the door and it was unlocked. Carefully opening it, she found a sparsely furnished living room. Mike was seated on the floor, handcuffed to a radiator pipe.
“My God, Mike! What happened?”
“I think someone’s been shot. The killer might still be here. Do you have your phone?”
“Right here.”
“Call nine-one-one and get the police here.”
She called as instructed and then turned to Mike. “Tell me what happened.”
“Do you have the portfolio?”
“In my car trunk.”
“Don’t mention that to the police.”
“Where’s the key to these cuffs?”
“Lam Kow has it. I came here to meet him, but there was someone in the kitchen that I never saw. Lam Kow caught me phoning you, took my cell phone, and handcuffed me to this radiator. Then he went back in the kitchen and seemed to be arguing with someone. I heard a shot, then nothing. I thought I’d be a dead man any minute, but no one came back through the kitchen door. After a few minutes I heard a thumping, as if a body was being dragged downstairs.”
Already two state police cars were pulling up in front of the house. She opened the door for them. “Are you the one who called?” a trooper asked.