Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry(33)

Lauren made an unsuccessful effort to beat back tears. She put her face in her hands. “I don’t know what to do,” she blurted out.

Using the softest voice he could muster, Carter said, “It’s time to start healing, time to make the pain go away. Beatrice, the receptionist you met outside, is a notary public. After you answer one more question, I’m going to call her in and she’ll witness your signature and mine on the agreement.”



* * *



Ten minutes later, with the signed papers in front of him, he had his feet up on the desk. Upon further reflection he decided this office was suitable. The money he saved on office expenses could be put to better use. Beatrice, the twenty-nine-year-old, brown-eyed receptionist with her jet-black hair in a ponytail and tight, white sweater accentuating her lovely curves, had agreed to go to dinner that night.

He glanced at the paper on his desk blotter. Dallas was the city where Pomerantz wanted to work. He had to get in touch with Sherman and have him use his contacts to find something for her there.

Written below Dallas was the next project. The woman who had tipped off Lauren Pomerantz to be careful around Brad Matthews was a former REL News employee named Meg Williamson.





36





Dick Sherman was in his usual position in the left lane on Route 95 as he made his way through the Bronx on his way home from the office. What was unusual was that he was behind the wheel. At dinner last night his wife had explained that she wanted to drive her car to the city and sleep at her sister’s before she and her sister caught an early flight to Bermuda from JFK. He didn’t know or care what she was doing; the part that affected him was his agreement to drive her car back to Greenwich. He had told his driver to take the night off.

Sherman had just finished listening to a podcast of REL’s evening news. Matthews in his folksy way sounded like the adult in the room as he reported how the Republicans and Democrats at the latest congressional hearing had spent the entire two hours shouting at each other. Matthews closed the broadcast as he usually did on a humorous note. “Ours is a system of government founded by geniuses so it could be run by idiots.”

Sherman would have been making good time if it weren’t for the moron in the Toyota. The jerk was more than ten car lengths behind the vehicle in front of him. Sherman had tailgated the last mile and twice flashed his high-beams to no avail. The driver was clueless.

It had been four days since he met Carter at the Greenwich train station. He never liked carrying one cell phone, and now he had to carry his own and the one Carter gave him.

Ed Myers had done what he was asked to do, but that did little to allay Sherman’s concern. When they passed each other in the hallway, Myers barely looked at him. Sherman recalled years ago when he had been roped into going to some stupid Boy Scouts dinner that was honoring Myers, who had been an Eagle Scout. It was torture sitting there listening to them recite the twelve points of the Scout Law. I hope Myers remembers the one about being obedient, he thought to himself. When the pressure’s on, can Myers be counted on to keep his mouth shut?

His reverie was interrupted by an unfamiliar ring. For a moment he thought the sound was coming from the radio. He then realized it was the burner phone.

The Toyota in front of him finally eased over to the middle lane. Sherman swerved slightly as he dug into his right pocket and retrieved the phone that was now midway through its fourth ring. He remembered Carter’s caution to not use names and talk in code lest anyone was listening. He drifted slightly toward the divider as he answered, “Hello. What’s up?”

“After looking around, I’ve settled on a Ford. The price was right. Two bushels.”

“Good job,” Sherman said before considering whether that was an appropriate response to someone reporting a car purchase. “I’m happy for you,” he added.

“I’m still in the market. Got my eye on a Chevy.”

“That’s good,” Sherman answered, scrambling for how to introduce the next topic. He had decided he wanted Carter to be with him when he confronted Matthews. What was the code for doing that? The next time I see Carter I’m going to put an end to this code nonsense, he promised himself. Sherman didn’t realize that he was now the one holding back traffic by going slowly in the left lane. An idea occurred to him. “I like trains. Same day and time.”

“Agreed,” Carter said as he disconnected.

Sherman continued holding the phone to his ear as he breathed a sigh of relief, but it proved short-lived. Flashing blue light reflected off his dashboard. He glanced to his right where a blue-and-white New York City Transit Police car was in the middle lane. The officer was gesturing at him to pull over.

“Damn it!” he shouted as he hurled the phone to the floor. Nine minutes later on the passenger’s seat next to him was a summons for careless driving and illegally using a mobile device while operating a motorized vehicle.





37





“I’m sorry, honey, I must have been distracted. What did you say?”

“All right, I’ve had enough. We’re gonna talk right now,” Diane Myers said as she picked up the remote on the end table next to her husband and clicked off the football game. “Don’t even bother trying to object. You probably don’t even know what the score is.”