Keep Quiet(77)

“Why?”

“Why not?” Pam shot back. “You drove us straight into a ditch. You kept everything from me and you instructed Ryan to keep everything from me, so I had no say in what was going on. But once I found out, did you think I was going to sit around and do nothing?”

Jake didn’t interrupt because she was on the warpath.

“I used to be a pretty good litigator, remember? I still have sharp teeth and I’m not without resources. I decided to go over there and give him a piece of my mind. I wanted him to back off of Ryan and I wanted him to know that he wasn’t getting any more money after this initial payment. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t about to be blackmailed into bankruptcy.” Pam paused. “Wait, what about the transfer? Did you pay him?”

“I stopped it in time. It never went through.”

“Good.” Pam rubbed her forehead irritably, leaving pinkish welts with her nails. “So I drove over and knocked on his door. The apartment complex is one of those with townhomes stuck together, only two stories. Duplexes, and it’s kind of run down. His apartment is on the second floor of one of the townhouses. His name was on the mailbox. I went in the downstairs door behind the first-floor tenant—”

“The tenant let you in? Just like that?”

“Please, he’s an old man and I gave him a big smile.”

“Did you tell him that you were there to see Voloshin?”

“What’s the difference?”

“I’m thinking about the police. I’m wondering if you’re the brunette that they were referring to or if the old man can identify you—”

“Of course he can’t. It was dark. He could barely see me through his trifocals, and anyway, I didn’t explain anything to him. I just walked in behind him, smiled, then went upstairs.” Pam threw up her hands, with the sunglasses looped around her thumb. “Honestly, Jake! What are you so worried about?”

Jake let it go. He didn’t want to tell her what he was so worried about, not yet.

“Anyway, I went upstairs, and Voloshin’s apartment door was open partway. I knocked and called for him, but it swung open all the way.”

“He leaves his door open?”

“It was the only apartment on the floor, so I assume he wasn’t worried about it. I went in. He came up later with a basket of laundry. I guess he’d been in the laundry room, wherever that was.”

“So he came into his apartment and found you there?” Jake was trying to imagine the chronology.

“Yes, but not before I did some snooping.”

“What did you do? What did you see?”

“Hold on. When he came in, I explained to him who I was and why I was there.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him that I was Ryan’s mother and a judge, and that he was the lowest form of life on the planet. I told him that if he ever breathed a word of what he knew or bothered us again, then I’d go to the police myself.”

“Did you raise your voice?”

“Of course. That’s my forte.”

“Did he?”

“Not really. He asked me to leave, but I wasn’t about to go until I said my piece. Then I left.”

Jake couldn’t hide his dismay. “The police said one of the tenants overheard a woman arguing with him.”

“That would be me. That little bastard, he’s the worst kind of bully. A coward.” Pam paused. “It’s too bad he’s dead, murdered that way, even if it means he can’t blackmail us anymore. I mean, I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”

“The killer made it look like a burglary, or it was an actual burglary. But Voloshin was alive when you left him?”

“Of course. He threw me out. Walked me to the apartment door.”

“And you went downstairs. Did you see anybody on your way out?”

“No.”

“What about the old man? The first-floor tenant?”

“No. I didn’t see anybody. Why are you asking me all these questions?”

“I want to know. Then what did you do?”

“I went to the car and left.”

“Were you wearing your sunglasses?”

“Of course not. It was nighttime.”

Jake tried to imagine it. “Did the place have a security guard, like a gatehouse at the front?”

“No, you just drive in.”

“Did you see any security cameras around or any security guards?”

“There was no security guard, and it was too shabby to have any surveillance cameras.”

“How long would you say you were there?”

“Talking with him? Five minutes. Before that, snooping around? About ten minutes. I took pictures.”

“You took pictures inside his apartment?”

“You’re not going to believe what I saw.” Pam looked at her iPhone, and Jake came over as she thumbed through to her camera roll, a multicolored grid like an electronic mosaic. She looked over at him, then edged backwards again. “Forget it. I don’t have time to look at them. I have to get to work.”

“You’re not even going to stand next to me now?”

“You think everything is fine, just like that?”