“Right. In fact, it was funny. I got more productive. Working full-time was liberating. I didn’t have to worry about making a living with the pictures or designing, art, writing. I could take the images that moved me. And, it turned out, Charles was right. I had a head for business. Running the office, negotiating equipment leases, planning meetings, bookkeeping... everything. Meeting Charles saved my life. I was going through the divorce and I needed some direction, some validation, you know. He became my mentor... And guess what?”
“He never hit on you.”
“Not once. Always a gentleman. Kind, funny. Just a wonderful man. In a business where there are a lot of people who aren’t so wonderful.”
“I know that all too well.”
They walked slowly over the pocked sidewalk. Their shoulders brushed several times. She felt an electric charge each time that happened. “Funny, once or twice in your life you meet somebody who’s a good person and it changes you forever. That’s Charles.”
“And I assume,” Daniel said, “that he knows the business. He makes money.”
“Oh, yeah. Charles’s a genius. We’ve done well.”
“Maybe I’ll give him a call. I’m always looking for outfits to do business with. Something to think about. And does he handle your investments? Your 401(k) or annuity?”
“He’s put me in a couple good positions...” The words braked to a halt as she blinked, her mouth open.
Daniel was clearly struggling to keep a detached expression. Then he gave up and coughed a laugh.
“Shit,” she said, chuckling as well. “He suggested some investment strategies. I won’t become a millionaire, but when Sarah’s ready for college there’ll be money for that.”
“Does your ex contribute?”
Interesting change of tack, she observed. She kept her voice neutral as she said, “Tim’s trying to find himself. I used to joke — to myself — he should look under a rock. But he’s doing the best he can, I think. It’s just, if you have children, they’re your priority. If you’re not happy at your job, suck it up until they graduate. If you’re depressed, deal with it for their sake. If the last thing in the world you feel like is another ballet recital, shut up and go.” Gabriela clicked her tongue. “Okay. Nothing more from me on my ex. Now, tell me about your... kids.”
He laughed at the pregnant pause. “Okay, Bryce and Steven. Fifteen and seventeen.” He described two handsome, all-American sorts of boys. He added that they were smart and never did anything worse than sneak a beer or get home an hour or so late. “No drugs, no fights.”
Daniel explained that he had plans for them to go to good colleges but not Ivy League. He wanted them to get solid educations but at big, diverse schools.
“Finance? Business?”
“I wouldn’t mind it. Capitalism’s been good to me. It’s exciting. I love it. But whatever they’re happy with is the main thing. That’s the only way to be a success. Who knows? Maybe they’ll be artists, writers or photographers... Anyway, does anybody really know what they want to do until they’re thirty?”
Not far away an elegant horse, ridden by an attractive young brunette in full gear, cantered along the bridle path.
He asked, “You have your camera? You could take a picture for Sarah.”
“No, I don’t carry it around generally. Besides, I’ve taken lots of horse pictures.”
They watched the beautiful creature disappear north, striding toward Harlem.
She was silent. Daniel frowned and glanced up the sidewalk.
“What?”
“Just thought I saw somebody looking our way.” The light grew fierce and he pulled on Ray-Bans.
She looked. “I don’t see anybody.”
“Imagination, maybe. Some man, I thought. In a dark overcoat.”
They continued their stroll to her apartment, looking over some of the vendor carts. Used books, CDs, food, of course. Always food.
Then Gabriela sensed Daniel’s body language shift. He said, “That complication you were telling me about at the restaurant? How much of a complication is he?” He glanced back once more, to the spot where he thought someone had been watching them.
“Frank Walsh isn’t going to be following me.”
“No? Are you sure? Wait, is he bigger than me?”
She sized up Daniel’s athletic shoulders, arms and chest. “If it comes down to a fight, I think you’ll win.”
He exhaled. “Then I’ll relax.”
“Seriously,” she said. “Frank is a nice guy. He’s dependable. He’s... sweet.”
Daniel began to laugh hard at the telling word.
“I’m there.” She pointed to a nondescript building up a cross street, affordable only because of the bizarre but kind rent laws in New York City.
Daniel began to say something but at that moment two men in suits, which didn’t fit particularly well, approached with obvious intent.
They didn’t come from the place in the park where Daniel had believed he’d spotted their follower, Gabriela noted.
One of the men, Anglo and tanned, wore aviator shades; the other, of Indian — South Asian — extraction, wore those glasses that dimmed automatically in the sun. Gabriela blinked, looking down at their NYPD badges and ID cards.
“You’re Gabriela McKenzie.”
“Yes. I... Yes, I am. Who are you?”
The one with the aviator sunglasses said briskly, “I’m Detective Kepler, this is Detective Surani. Could we talk to you for a moment?”
Chapter 10
Central Park
10:30 A.M., SATURDAY
45 MINUTES EARLIER
Light bore down on the foursome in Central Park. Stark light, painful.
Putting away his NYPD gold shield, Naresh Surani glanced at Daniel Reardon, ignored him and asked Gabriela, “Have you heard from Charles Prescott today?” Even the brilliant sun couldn’t warm the detective’s gray complexion.
“My boss? No. My God, is he all right?” Her eyes eased toward Daniel. The other detective, Brad Kepler, had noted him too but was ignoring him as efficiently as his partner was.
“When was the last time you saw him?” tanned Brad Kepler asked.
“Yesterday, at work. In the morning. Then I went to a meeting and was out all day. Has there been an accident? Please. You have to tell me!”
They were regarding her with what seemed to be suspicion. Surani offered, “Mr. Prescott has disappeared... with, it seems, a lot of his clients’ money.”
Gabriela barked a laugh. “No, that’s impossible. There’s a mix-up.”
“I’m afraid not. Detective Surani and I are with the Financial Crimes Division of the police department. Mr. Prescott’s been under investigation for the past two months.”
“A different Charles Prescott. It has to be a different one.”
Surani had taken to doing most of the talking and he continued now, “The SEC and the FBI were investigating cash flow into and out of suspicious stock trading accounts here and abroad. Some of those accounts were set up by Mr. Prescott and it appears they were for the benefit of various clients. There were New York connections so we got involved. It’s been going on for months.”
“It can’t have!”
Surani continued, “We were going to raid the office and arrest him at home this morning, but he must’ve gotten word about the investigation and fled late yesterday. There’re teams going through the office and his houses now. He’s vanished, cleaned out a half-dozen accounts in the U.S. and transferred the money into untraceable accounts overseas.”