Curious Minds Page 7

  The man stood up, all six foot four of him, massive and imposing in his four-star-general uniform. Hans Grunwald, the director of the NSA. One of the most powerful men in America. The second man in the rowboat.

  Riley had a rush of panic, fearing Hans had seen her in the kayak. She’d been wearing the RoboCop visor, and for the most part they were hidden in the cattails. Still, it was hard to miss a woman with red hair.

  “Were you close to Maxine?” Hans asked Riley.

  “No,” Riley said. “I hardly knew her.”

  “The police think it was a robbery,” Werner said. “Her purse, her watch, and her rings were all missing. Such a tragic waste.”

  The gold, Riley was thinking. The broken sunglasses. The men in the dark suits. They killed her and dumped her in New York.

  “I never had the pleasure of meeting Maxine,” Hans said, “but Günter always spoke so fondly of her.”

  Riley’s mind was spinning. Hans had just lied to her. He’d seen Maxine alive, only yesterday.

  “I have to go,” she said, moving for the door. “I’m late for a meeting with Mr. Knight.”

  Werner blocked her way, looking ever so sympathetic. “Of course. But we were wondering. The police, as I say, think it’s a simple robbery. But then, they don’t know about Günter’s disappearance. And they don’t know about his…special relationship with Maxine.”

  “Relationship?”

  “Surely it was obvious.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s possible, some would argue, that they were planning to run off together. And they had a falling out.”

  Riley took a beat to answer. “You think your brother could have killed her?”

  “No, no,” Werner and Hans said in the same breath.

  “Not at all,” Hans said.

  “But some might argue that,” Werner said.

  Hans nodded in agreement. “Some might.”

  Riley’s heart was skipping around in her chest. They were setting Günter up, throwing him under the bus.

  “How is Emerson’s investigation progressing?” Werner asked Riley. “Has he discovered anything?”

  Riley went with her gut reaction to lie. “Nope. Not a thing,” Riley said.

  Werner studied her for a long moment, and Riley felt her skin prickle.

  He took a step closer. “Just tell us what he did yesterday, Moonbeam.”

  “And where he went,” Hans said, closing in on her other side.

  These guys aren’t so tough, she told herself. I had law professors that could eat them for breakfast. All I have to do is swallow back the panic so I can think on my feet.

  “First of all, we went to see Günter’s wife,” she said. “And then Emerson wanted to talk to Maxine again so we came here, but Maxine was home sick.”

  Werner and Hans exchanged glances.

  Amateurs, Riley told herself. They probably sucked at poker too.

  “So we went to Maxine’s house,” she said.

  “And?” Werner asked.

  “And she didn’t look sick…or dead. And then we had lunch at Five Guys. That was it. It was pretty much a waste of time. Between you and me, I think Knight’s a little loony.”

  Hans nodded. “I see.”

  Werner stepped away and opened the door to his office, indicating the meeting was over. “Keep up the good work, Moonbeam,” he said. “And stay in touch.”

  The two men stood side by side and watched Riley walk down the hall and disappear into the elevator.

  “We have a problem with Moonbeam,” Werner said.

  “We’ll fix it,” Hans told him.

  Riley hit the porch of Emerson’s mansion running. She barreled through the front door and almost tripped over a woman scrubbing the floor.

  “Watch where you’re going!” the woman said. “There’s capybara doody all over. I didn’t even know what a capybara was when I woke up this morning. Now I’m cleaning up after one.”

  An animal that looked like a giant guinea pig hurried across the hallway and out the front door. Aunt Myra ran after the animal.

  “Emerson’s in the dining room,” Myra yelled over her shoulder to Riley. “Down the hall and turn left. Say hello to Melody. She’s the new housekeeper.”

  “Not for long,” Melody said. “I didn’t sign on to work in no zoo.”

  Riley found the dining room and thought that “banquet hall” would describe it better. It looked like it belonged in Downton Abbey’s fancier annex. Huge tapestries depicting maidens in flowing white dresses attending to knights in shining armor hung from the walls. Towering stained-glass windows cast multicolored light on the massive mahogany eight-pedestal dining table where Emerson sat hunched with a power tool in his hand, a protective plastic visor covering his face.

  The visor distorted his smile as he looked up at her. “Riley, there you are!” He lifted the little Dremel circular saw to reveal the gold bar they’d taken from Günter’s study. It was split down the middle.

  “I have to talk to you,” she said, walking around the table.

  “First things first. Come and see.”

  The bar had a thin veneer of shiny yellow gold, and under the gold the bar was dull gray metal the rest of the way through.

  “It’s a golden shell around a tungsten bar,” Emerson said. “Tungsten’s about the same weight and mass as gold. It makes a good substitute for counterfeiting.”

  “So it’s fake?”

  “A beautiful, expert fake. Now, what did you have to tell me?”

  “Maxine Trowbridge is dead.”

  Emerson whipped the visor off his head. “Tell me everything.”

  “Werner called me into the office so he could give me the news, but I think he was mostly looking for information. He wanted to know if you’d made any progress, and he wanted to know what you did yesterday. And Hans was there. He acted as if he didn’t see me in the kayak, but he lied about knowing Maxine, so he’ll lie about anything. He said he’d never met Maxine.”

  “How did Maxine die?”

  “Stabbed. She was found on Liberty Street in the Financial District in New York.”

  “New York? Interesting.”

  “I think someone in a dark suit grabbed her in the boathouse parking lot, knocking her sunglasses off her face. Then they took the gold, killed Maxine, and drove her to New York to dump her on the street.”

  “Why would they drive her to New York? That would be unnecessarily complicated. I think after the river meeting Maxine rushed off to New York and was subsequently killed.”

  “Werner said it looked like a robbery. The killer took her jewelry and her purse.”

  “No mention of the gold?”

  “None.”

  “What did you tell them about me?”

  “I told them that you talked to Irene and Maxine, but that nothing came of it. And I told them I thought you were loony.”

  “Clever of you to mix a truth with an untruth, but you realize eventually lying will damage your karma.”

  “What about white lies? Are they damaging?”

  “White lies are a gray area,” Emerson said.

  The big double doors of the banquet hall opened and Melody poked her head in.

  “I just want you to know, I quit. Capybara doody is one thing. I’m not cleaning up after no kangaroo. Oh, and there’s some strange little man with bulging eyes here to see you.”

  “Why do you have so many weird animals?” Riley asked.

  “My father collected them. He thought owning a private zoo would make him interesting. And I suppose at some level it did.”

  “What are you planning to do with them?”

  “Take care of them. They’re my responsibility now. Just as the gold is my responsibility.”

  “Do you have a zookeeper?”

  “I have Aunt Myra.”

  “Wow. Aunt Myra does a lot. How many animals do you have?”

  “I have no idea, but they seem to be everywhere.”

  Emerson wrappe
d the two pieces of the fake gold bar in a tea towel and put the package in his rucksack.

  “About you, Miss Moon…”

  “Riley,” she said.

  “Very well, Riley. You lied to Werner on my behalf. Am I to assume you’re no longer working as an informant for him?”

  “I never agreed to be an informant. I agreed to be your temporary amanuensis. Whatever that means.”

  “I thought perhaps you were succumbing to my eyelashes.”

  Riley took a moment to think about it. “Maybe a little.”

  A short, muscular man stepped into the doorway. “Mr. Knight?”

  The man was dressed in a dark suit, dark shirt, and dark tie. He was bald, with bulging eyes and thick lips. A human goldfish dressed for a funeral.

  Emerson turned to the man. “Yes?”

  “I’d like a word with you.”

  The man was soft-spoken, and Riley placed him in his forties. He was excessively pale. His skin was unnaturally smooth. His eyes never blinked. He was followed by a small brown monkey.

  The monkey climbed up a chair and jumped onto the far end of the dining table.

  “I think your monkey wants food,” the man said. “I found it sitting on your porch.”

  “Is this really your monkey?” Riley asked Emerson.

  “I suppose if it’s on my property, it’s mine,” Emerson said.

  “My name is Edward Rollo,” the man said. “I’m from the NSA.”

  “I’d like to see your identification,” Riley said. “And I’d like to know why you’re here.”

  “Ms. Moon,” Rollo said. “We have a file on you, but it doesn’t tell us whom you currently represent. Are you representing Mr. Knight or the firm of Blane-Grunwald?”

  “Both.”

  “I fear you’ll find that’s not possible. You can’t have two masters.”

  “I haven’t any masters,” Riley said. “I have employers and clients.”

  “Words with shaded meanings,” Rollo said, walking the length of the table to where Emerson was sitting.

  “Have a seat,” Emerson said to Rollo.

  “No, thank you,” Rollo said. “This will only take a minute, and standing gives me a superior position over you.”

  “True. And if I were to stand now it would be in reaction to your behavior, so you would still be in a position of power. But may I remind you that I am sitting at the head of the table, the traditional Feng Shui ‘dragon seat,’ the place of the leader.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Riley said. “Why don’t you two just take out a ruler and get it over with?”

  Rollo’s thick lips pulled back in what might be construed as a smile. “I was building up to that.”

  “I’ll ask you one more time,” Riley said. “Why are you here?”

  “The NSA is investigating a case. You’re interfering with it. We want you to stop.”

  Riley stared him down. “What case are you investigating?”

  “That’s on a need-to-know basis. You don’t need to know.”

  “How can we stop interfering with something when we don’t know what it is?” Emerson asked.

  “Good question,” Rollo said. “I see your predicament. To be on the safe side, why don’t you stop doing everything? Stop asking questions. Stop visiting people. Stop leaving the house. Stop using your cellphone. Pretty much stop doing anything but breathing. Do I make myself clear?”

  “That sounds like a threat,” Riley said.

  “Good, then I do make myself clear. One hates to be ambiguous. Now I’d like to examine the contents of the rucksack you have on your lap,” Rollo said to Emerson.

  “Do you have a rucksack search warrant?” Emerson asked.

  “The NSA doesn’t need a search warrant,” Rollo said, and he snatched the pack away from Emerson.

  Emerson batted the rucksack from Rollo’s hands. The bag landed with a thud on the table, sliding out of reach on the polished surface. Emerson leapt onto the table, calmly walked to the rucksack, and scooped it up.

  “I’m going to have to take that,” Rollo said.

  “I don’t think so,” Emerson said, standing on the table like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Rollo had to tip his head back to look up at Emerson. “This is bigger than you.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Emerson said. “I’m pretty big.”

  “Allow me to clarify. This is trouble. The kind of trouble that is resolved by secret NSA courts. The kind of trouble that ruins even eccentric billionaires. The kind of trouble that gets people like Maxine Trowbridge killed.”

  “Fair enough,” Emerson said, moving to the edge of the table. “But I’m not giving you my rucksack.”

  Rollo produced a switchblade knife. “Then I might have to take it from you by force.”

  Emerson jumped off the table, snagged one of the huge tapestries hanging on the wall, and flung it over Rollo. He collapsed under the weight of the cloth and struggled to free himself. Emerson hung the rucksack on his shoulder, and in a few long strides was at the far wall.

  “Come along,” he said to Riley. “Time to disappear.”

  He pressed a spot on a carved wood panel, the panel swung open, and Emerson and Riley squeezed through a secret door into the space behind it. The secret door clicked closed and they were left in total darkness.

  “This is creepy,” Riley whispered.

  “I was thinking it was comforting,” Emerson said. “Like a starless night. And when I stand close to you like this, you smell nice.”

  “Thank you,” Riley said. “What do we do now?”

  “I could put my arm around you.”

  “I was referring to the crazy knife-wielding NSA guy waiting on the other side of the wall. He looks like he might, I don’t know, kill you.”

  “He does, doesn’t he? I find that exhilarating. This is obviously bigger than an embezzling banker. A woman has been murdered. And now we have this little man attempting to intimidate us.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, he’s succeeded,” Riley said. “It isn’t part of my life plan to die here.”

  “Life is a journey, not a destination,” Emerson said. “One must live in the moment.”

  “I’m not all that happy about this journey and in particular about this moment. It’s scary.”

  “You have nothing to fear. I’ve had many forms of martial arts training. Ninjutsu, Tae Kwon Do, Inbuan wrestling, Kalaripayattu, Malla-yuddha, Musti-yuddha, and Thang-ta.”

  “Do you have a knife or a gun?”

  “No.”

  “Case closed,” Riley said. “Does this secret space lead somewhere?”

  “It opens to a narrow corridor and then stairs.”

  Emerson put his hand to the panel in front of them, slid the cover on a peephole, and looked into the library.

  “He’s still there,” Emerson whispered. “I’ll have to take the back stairs.”

  Emerson tapped the flashlight app on his smartphone, pulled the Good Delivery bar out of his rucksack, and handed one of the halves to Riley. “Give this to Rollo, and tell him everything. If he’s working for the NSA he needs to know. If he’s working for whoever is behind all this, he already knows. Either way you can’t go wrong with the truth.”

  “What about you?”

  “Places to go. People to see. Rollo isn’t one of them. After you’ve been debriefed by Rollo, you can meet me at Maxine’s townhouse. I’m going out the back way. Count to sixty and depress the silver lever in front of you. It will open the door and you can return to the library. Rollo won’t hurt you. He’ll assume you’re a helplessly confused pawn who can be exploited.”

  “That’s so flattering,” Riley said.

  “Sarcasm,” Emerson said. “I like it.”

  Riley watched him disappear into the darkness, counted to sixty, and depressed the lever. The secret panel slid open and she stepped out.

  “There you are,” Rollo said. “I was hoping you’d reappear.”

&nb
sp; She handed over her half of the fake gold bar. “Emerson thought you would want this.”

  Rollo examined it. “Interesting. And he has the other half?”

  “He does.”

  “What does he propose to do with it?”

  “I have no clue.”

  Rollo cut his eyes to the wall with the secret passage. “I don’t suppose he’s hanging out back there.”

  “He had places to go and people to see.”

  “Of course. What were his instructions to you?”

  “He said I should cooperate with the NSA.”

  Rollo considered that for a beat. “Tell me everything.”

  Riley gave him the short version of her life with Emerson.

  “So you’re sure you saw Hans Grunwald, William McCabe, and Maxine Trowbridge together?” Rollo asked when she finished talking.

  “Yes.”

  “In the interest of national security we’re going to rearrange things,” Rollo said. “When you walk out of this room you’ll be quite sure you didn’t see Hans Grunwald or William McCabe at Fletcher’s Cove. And you didn’t see Maxine Trowbridge there either. Because you were never at Fletcher’s Cove at all. Do you understand?”

  Riley nodded.

  “Good. That way everybody stays healthy.” He glanced over at the monkey. “Even Mr. Pip here.”

  “You know the monkey’s name?”

  “We know everything. So it’s a good thing you told me the complete truth. We were beginning to question your loyalties.”

  “Who exactly is ‘we’?”

  “Us,” Rollo said. “Keep an eye on Mr. Knight. We want to know exactly where he goes. Exactly what he does.” He took out a red cellphone and placed it on the table in front of her. “Call us with a report.”

  He rose and crossed to the door.

  “What’s your number?” Riley asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. Call any number. We’ll hear you.”

  Riley cringed at the sight of a D.C. police car parked in front of Maxine’s townhouse. It was a reminder that the most terrible thing had happened to Maxine.

  A uniformed cop was standing on the sidewalk by the cop car. He was back on his heels, hands on his gun belt, looking bored. Two men in rumpled suits were standing on the small front stoop. The front door to Maxine’s townhouse was open, and Emerson was in the doorway talking to the two guys in suits.