The Ex(65)

But now that we’d connected Tracy Frankel to the Sentry Group, we might have a shot at figuring out who hired Sharon and why. Whoever framed Jack must have wanted both Tracy and Malcolm dead, and then shot the third victim because he was a witness or to make the killing seem more random than it was.

Ever the teacher, Don took the time to explain the logic to Einer. “The DA’s not going to dismiss the case just on our say-so that someone framed Jack, with fifteen different theories as to why. So here’s the big question: How do we use these phone calls to put some bones on the third-party theory? Einer, you’re sure we didn’t miss any other calls in Tracy’s records that we can link to Malcolm Neeley?”

Within a few hours of Judge Amador’s signing the subpoena, AT&T sent us a list of three months of Tracy Frankel’s incoming and outgoing calls. The three calls to Sentry Group the week before the shooting were the only ones to Neeley’s hedge fund, but Einer had been working on identifying the other people Tracy had spoken to.

“No other calls to or from Neeley’s cell phone or either home number. She actually didn’t have that many contacts, in or out.”

“But she had more than zero,” Don said. “Do we know who they were? Maybe one of her friends could explain the connection.”

Einer had the documents on the empty seat next to him. “I have almost every number identified. Her parents. Her older sister, Laura. A guy named Double Simpson—that’s his actual legal name, believe it or not. A source at the department tells me Double’s a low-level drug dealer by all indications.”

Don leaned forward. “Maybe the dealer had some kind of beef with Tracy and wound up shooting two bystanders in the process?”

Einer shook his head. “He spent that morning in custody for a probation violation—nonpayment of court fees. And that brings us to miscellaneous: takeout Chinese two blocks from her apartment, a cheap hair salon a few blocks from that. And then three calls, all back-to-back, two weeks before she died, to some hoity-toity shoe store in Soho called Vala. I paid a visit—the shoes were fugly, like made for Little Bo Peep.”

“And—?” I asked.

“And no one there knows anything about Tracy Frankel. One of the salesgirls vaguely remembered someone calling multiple times with the wrong number—like too stupid to realize they’re just dialing the same digits over and over again. So I assume that may have been Tracy.”

I was impressed that Einer had taken the time to make an in-person visit. He was clearly determined not to miss something else. “But Tracy didn’t dial a similar number afterward?” That was the usual response to dialing incorrectly.

“No. And that’s it except for a couple of blocked numbers and a payphone in Prospect Heights. Those are dead ends.”

“Okay, so we still have no idea who she was calling at Sentry.”

Melissa dried her hands with a white kitchen towel and plopped down in the seat next to me. “Consider me on a break.”

“Perfect timing,” I said. Melissa frequently served the role of mock jury. She may have been only a sample size of one, but bartenders have a talent for figuring out how real people think. Melissa could consult fifteen fictional jurors running around in her head anytime she wanted. “Malcolm Neeley had stopped seeing the married woman he was hav ing an affair with. Maybe Tracy Frankel was the new girlfriend? A jealous boyfriend finds out?”

“Neeley goes from a high-society missus to a twenty-year-old druggie?” Einer said. “Big change in type.”

“Maybe not a girlfriend, exactly,” I said. “It’s not unusual for a woman with drug problems to supplement her income with prostitution.”

Don shook his head. “She’d have more phone calls.”

Melissa raised a hand. “And a trick at seven in the morning? Only married dudes do that. Nope, I don’t buy it.”

Just as Scott Temple said, the Sentry Group housed more than thirty employees. Tracy could have been calling any one of them. Coincidences do happen.

But one particular Sentry Group employee had already been on our radar. “It has to be Max. He’s obviously unhappy that we’re looking for other people with a motive to kill his father. And we know from his ex that he wanted to get out from under his father’s control. He benefits far more from Malcolm’s death than anyone else. He inherits everything, including control at the Sentry Group. And, I’m sorry, I don’t care how drunk he was, you don’t talk about shooting your father in his sleep unless there’s some serious underlying hatred.”

Melissa jumped in without missing a beat. “So if the Tracy girl was calling Max—then . . . what?”

I shrugged. “He’s in love with his ex-girlfriend, Amanda, but can’t be with her because of Daddy. Guy his age still needs to have sex.”

“So Tracy was his no-commitment hookup,” Don said. “But wants more.”

“Maybe,” I said, turning over the possibility in my head. “Tracy gets a little too pushy. Three calls in one week, at the company phone. No other calls between them, meaning they’re not a regular item. Maybe he picked her up at a bar one night. Or off the street. But it wasn’t supposed to be a thing. She takes a business card from his wallet, starts calling work. She’s now a problem.”

“Two birds with one stone,” Melissa said. “If Max was planning on taking out his dad anyway—”