The 6:20 Man(60)
“So, can I be allowed to hold a billionaire’s phone for a second?” She looked over at him, smiled, and passed it across.
The phone was one of those new, big Apples. The cover was gold and shiny. And the screen saver was a Bugatti Chiron.
Of course it is.
He took out his phone and snapped a photo of Cowl’s screen.
“Why’d you do that?” she asked.
He laughed. “For posterity.”
She laughed, too.
He handed back the phone.
She said, “So, how did a billionaire’s phone feel?”
“Heavy as a ball and chain. I’m actually surprised Cowl trusts anyone with it.”
She shrugged. “What am I going to do with it, make a long-distance call?”
She obviously doesn’t know the possibilities, thought Devine. But I do. “I ran into your family friend last night.”
“Christian told me.”
“And what else did Christian tell you?”
“That you kicked his ass and the asses of his two large friends.”
“And did he tell you why?”
“It was over a girl. He didn’t say he was in the right, just in case you were wondering. He’s actually a nice guy—a little full of himself, but I’ve seen far worse from guys with money.”
The doors opened directly into the foyer of the large penthouse.
“Nice place,” said Devine.
“Yeah, if you like stuffy, overfurnished, and mundane. I like the other house a lot better. Minimalism is my thing.” She called out, “Brad? He’s here.”
“Do you know why I am here?”
“I don’t get involved in his business. I told you that already. You coming by my place like I asked you to?”
“How late are you up?”
“As late as it takes. I’ll text you my address. It’s not far from here.”
Maybe farther than you think, at least from my perspective, he thought.
“Devine,” called out Cowl as he rounded a corner. He held out his hand, and Montgomery placed the phone directly in it. “This way. Thanks, Michelle.”
Montgomery smiled inscrutably at Devine and disappeared somewhere.
Cowl said, “Follow me.”
They entered what looked like a study. Cowl closed the double doors and said, “What do you want to drink?”
“Beer?”
“No. We’ll drink brandy.”
“Okay.” So much for having a choice with this guy.
Cowl poured out two snifters from a bar set against a wall and handed one to Devine. Then he took out an electronic wand from inside a cabinet and ran it over Devine.
“Just checking for wires and stuff. Can never be too careful these days. Take out your phone and turn it off.”
As Devine turned his phone off Cowl said, “Everybody—and I mean everybody—is spying on everybody else with this electronic shit. I don’t like using email or texts. I don’t even like calling people, because you never know who’s listening. The important stuff? I do it the old-fashioned way. Analog. Face-to-face.”
They sat across from each in leather club chairs.
“So, I’ve been thinking about our little discussion.”
“And?”
“And I need to see your hand before you see mine.”
Devine showed him the pictures and video on his phone.
“What were you doing up there anyway?” asked Cowl, shaking his head.
“Seeing where Sara Ewes died. Then I heard you two going at it.”
“So you didn’t go up there to catch us in the act?”
“Not my intent, no,” said Devine.
“But you did take the pics and the little film.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
Cowl said, “So, let me show you my hand. You killed Ewes.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Let me rephrase that. The evidence that I’ve seen is enough to convict your ass of murdering Sara.”
“And that evidence is?”
“Video of you entering the building, and your security card showing you accessing the building and going up to the fifty-second floor in time to kill her.”
“Both can be fudged, as you already conceded. And why haven’t you turned that over to the police? Before, you said I had you to thank for that. What does that mean?”
“I haven’t turned it over to the cops because we actually had a technical glitch.”
Devine sat back. “I’m confused, Mr. Cowl. See, at that point I would have made a perfect patsy for the murder. Leaves Cowl and Comely unaffected. I knew Sara. I was a disgruntled employee, former military with maybe some PTSD baggage, look at the shiny object here and not over there. Police are off the premises. So what gives?”
“What gives is that I do not have to explain myself or my reasoning to you. So, in exchange for what’s on your phone, the video of you and your entry log disappears. What do you say?”
“How can I possibly be sure you’ll really do that?”
“And how can I know you don’t have that stuff stashed in multiple places? At some point we have to trust each other.”
“If that’s the case, why exchange at all?”