“That’s a lot of mights and maybes,” Tucker said. “And why would Langston take a case where he had such an obvious conflict of interest? He could lose his license.”
“We’ve seen people do worse out of friendship. Or maybe Bolt paid him to help keep it quiet. From what we can tell, Langston isn’t making nearly as much money as he used to draw from the firm, but there’s been no change in the lifestyle: same school for Ramona, same luxury apartment, same vacation house in East Hampton.”
“We’re just asking for a couple days more to see these leads through,” Rogan said. “No additional staff. Just the two of us.”
“You two are always scheming, working the brass. ‘No additional resources. Only a couple of days.’ But here’s the thing. You two have been all over the place since this case started. Now you think you’ve finally got a theory, but Adrienne Langston is still being threatened. Where does this James Grisco guy fit into the picture?”
“Minimal information on him as of now,” Ellie said. “A DUI and a burg in the early nineties, then arrested in ’95 for murder at the age of twenty-three in Buffalo. Victim was a forty-nine-year-old white male, an insurance agent named Wayne Cooper. The state alleged Grisco lay in wait before stabbing him to death. Agreed to life in prison to avoid the death penalty, but got out four months ago after testifying against a cellmate.”
“Is there a parole officer?”
“I called him this morning,” Rogan said. “The PO had no clue the guy was in the city. Grisco’s been clean as far as he knows. He’s got a New York State driver’s license that puts him in Buffalo, but his fingerprints are on a hand-delivered box here in Manhattan. Until we’ve got something better, our best guess is that Grisco’s in the local area and Langston slipped him a few bucks to dump the package in front of their apartment building.”
“Be nice to get that nailed down.”
They both nodded, because that’s all they could do. There was still so much they didn’t know.
“And if George Langston is your man, why is he sending a shoe box full of maggots to his wife?”
“The threats started after Adrienne signed her book deal,” Ellie said. “She might be all about opening up and not having secrets, but maybe he doesn’t share that point of view. We need to know exactly how he feels about her blog and her book. Now that Adrienne’s actually scared, we’re hoping that fear might motivate her to open up to us a little more.”
“Right. Because she’s really going to like you when you tactfully broach the subject of her husband possibly banging their kid’s best friend.”
“I know,” Ellie said. “We’ve got some serious sucking up to do. I can apologize very profusely when necessary.”
“Funny. I’ve never noticed.” Tucker looked at the notes she’d been jotting down. “All right, keep working it. Talk to Adrienne first. See just how much her husband knows about this book and how he felt about it.”
“Adrienne’s at their house in East Hampton. You want us to wait until tomorrow?” It was already four o’clock. Driving out there today would mean serious overtime.
“You finally have a suspect that feels right to you. I know the two of you. Just go. And bring me back a lobster roll. And tomorrow you try to find that James Grisco person. If he can give you the connection between Langston and that shoe box, you might actually have something.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Ellie emerged from Tucker’s office to find Max sitting at her desk.
“Hey, you.”
“You got a second?”
She didn’t. Not really. But Rogan, overhearing, said, “I gotta get some stuff from the locker room. We can head out in ten.”
They walked together onto Twenty-first Street, neither of them speaking until they were away from the crowd of cops on a smoke break outside the precinct station house.
“Sorry to just show up at work like this.”
“You never have to apologize.”
“I did a lot of thinking last night.” She had called him to see if he was coming over. For the first time since they’d gotten together, he hadn’t returned her call. “I didn’t get any sleep. I’m totally exhausted. And I can’t do it again tonight.”
“Okay. What can I do?” He was really scaring her.
“I wanted to make sure I saw you in person. We need to talk. I was upset with you for having made a decision that affected both of us, but now I’ve made one, too.”
She knew it would come to this. It had been a week since they’d both realized they were picturing different futures together. They’d been pretending to have moved past the issue, but of course they hadn’t. How could they? “Please don’t do this, Max. Not like this.”
“Will you just listen?”
She knew somehow she would find a way to blow it. He was breaking up with her. On the sidewalk. At work. Before she had to get in a car with Rogan for a three-hour drive.
“I—can we just talk about it later?”
“Did you not hear me before? I left work because I couldn’t get anything done. I need to say this now.”
“Please—” She hated the pleading sound in her own voice.
“I love you, Ellie.”
“I love you, too.” Unlike his statement, hers didn’t have the sound of a “but” at the end.
“We can’t keep doing what we’re doing. One day at a time. Never knowing where we’re sleeping or when we’ll see each other. We’ve been dating a year and you’ve never even met my parents. Or my friends, for that matter.”
“I’ve met your friends,” she protested.
“No, you’ve run into a few of my friends at work. It’s not the same. We have a lot of fun, Ellie, and we talk shop really well together, but this isn’t a real relationship. I know we have the potential for more, but I need to know you’re going to be there.”
“Of course I’m here. And of course it’s real.” It was the most real relationship she’d ever had.
“I want us to live together.”
This was not what she was expecting. She felt a lump build in her throat from relief.
“We practically live together now.”
He shook his head. “No, we spend practically every night together. That’s not the same. I want us to share a home. To share a life. To plan around each other. To take vacations together.”
“When was the last time either of us had a vacation?”
He shared the brief smile. “Fine. I want us to plan a vacation that we’ll take five years from now. I want us to take each other into consideration, no matter what.”
“I consider you. I always have, ever since we met.”
“Will you please stop disagreeing with everything I say? Maybe I made a mistake wording it like I’m fixing a problem. My point is that I love you, I want us to be together, and I was so pumped to tell you that I bailed on a unit meeting so I could get up here and talk to you right now. Just say yes and I’ll leave here satisfied.”
She’d thought about living together. Of course she had. And on those previous occasions, she had run through all of the logistical questions: Where would they live? Was either of their apartments large enough to accommodate both of them? If they got a new place, how would they split the bills? Could she really bring herself to walk away from a rent-controlled apartment?
Max had obviously analyzed the same considerations. “We’ll get a bigger place. If we combine our rents, we could even get a two-bedroom. And Jess can sublet your apartment in the meantime—just in case.”
Jess had held his current job longer than any previous work, but he still wasn’t up to carrying a lease on his own. “Then I need to talk to him to see—”