The Ex(56)

“No. Her profile.” Helen was looking at the camera over her shoulder. “I mean, I can’t be sure, but it’s a lot closer than anyone else you’ve shown me.”

“The only problem,” I said, “is that, given the way online prostitution works, if we call for a date with this Helen, some other sexy brunette will show up.”

Charlotte sounded proud to be yet another step ahead of me. “Which is why I already made a little phone call to the so-called escort service. I got Helen’s real name for less than the cost of whatever it is that they call ‘the round-the-world treatment.’ I’m sending you another picture.”

The incoming e-mail showed the same woman looking considerably more refined.

Jack let out a gasp. “Oh my God, that’s her.”

Charlotte’s voice was beginning to crackle in the speaker connection. “That’s one of her professional head shots as aspiring actress Sharon Lawson. Guess she hasn’t had her big break yet. I have a home address in Staten Island.”

I asked her to give me the details so I could follow up.

“Nope. I’m the one with the minions. If you’re going, I’m going. I’ll pick you up in ten.”


AFTER CHARLOTTE CLICKED OFF THE phone, Jack shook his head and laughed. “I’m picturing Charlotte bookmarking that escort site for future purposes.”

I was glad that the good news had gotten us past the tension that had been mounting before Charlotte called. It felt like everything was falling into place. If this Sharon Lawson turned out to be “Madeline,” and someone hired her to catch Jack’s eye, we might actually be able to prove Jack was framed.

“I probably shouldn’t get my hopes up, right? Whoever did this had to have been smart enough to cover their tracks.”

“I know, but we don’t have to prove who’s actually pulling the strings.” We only needed to make it feel plausible that strings were in fact being pulled. After Jack was arrested, that feat felt impossible. Now I was finally starting to picture the beginning of a defense. Max Neeley hated his father, was searching for independence, and would now control the Sentry Group after his father’s death. And by all accounts, he was smart—the kind of smart someone would have to be to orchestrate Jack’s setup.

“You really think Max Neeley did this?”

“It’s not our job to figure that out. I just have to sell it as a possibility.”

“God, is it crazy that I feel bad about doing this to him if he’s not actually guilty? For him to come out of that household in one piece is pretty remarkable after everything his father put him through.”

A text appeared on my phone. It was Charlotte. I’m here. How in the world did she get downtown in ten minutes?

As I packed my laptop into my briefcase, I told Jack not to feel bad for Max. “He’s alternative suspect number one right now. And either way, he’s free of his dad and has an entire hedge fund to himself.”

Outside, Charlotte had pulled in front of Jack’s building in a shiny, white Porsche Carrera.

“No Barbie?” I asked, steadying myself as I crawled into the low-slung seat.

“If we have to cross the Verrazano, we may as well have some fun.”


SHARON LAWSON’S HOME LOOKED LIKE the setting of All in the Family, the right half of a side-by-side row house, complete with a thick, squared-off hedge beneath the windows.

Charlotte beat me to the punch when the door opened. “Sharon, we have a role to discuss with you. It’s a follow-up to your gig at the Christopher Street Pier.”

“What gig on the pier?”

“You know—with the champagne and the basket.”

I saw panic in Sharon’s face, quickly replaced by an actress’s composure. I stuck my hand out, complete with business card, hoping it would keep her from slamming the door. “Ms. Lawson, we need to talk to you, or the police will.”

I never should have let Charlotte inject herself into this. Maybe she would have had a chance of making a connection on her own, or I could have done it with my usual approach. But the two of us together were a mess. The door was beginning to close. Charlotte stuck her black canvas tennis shoe in the door. “A man’s life is at stake!”

The door jerked opened again. “Fucking Emin! He’s the one, right?”

I tried again to salvage the situation. “It doesn’t matter how we found you.” Charlotte had indeed bribed a man named Emin at the escort service for Sharon’s real name and address. Emin had also confirmed that a cash client had booked Sharon for an “all-night date” that would have included the early morning when Jack spotted the girl in the grass. Emin did not, however, know the identity of the client or the location of the date. “We need to know who hired you to go to Christopher Street Pier.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“If you’re afraid of discussing the escort business—”

She stepped onto the porch and shut the door behind her. “Of course I’m afraid. I’m twenty-nine years old and have two children and can barely afford the rent for the roof over our head. I can’t believe greedy Emin sold me out. He’s the one who found me at an audition and told me this was an easy way to make money on the side. No one was supposed to know. Fine, I guess my secret’s out. But I have no idea what you’re talking about with some stupid picnic basket.”