Catching the Bad Guy (Book Two) (Janet Maple Series) (6 page)

Their eyes met, and Janet thought she
saw a flash of something far stronger than gratitude in Dennis’s gaze. But then
it was probably nothing more than her wishful thinking. “So you’re not mad at me?”
Janet blurted out, cursing her own sheepishness. As if Dennis Walker had any
right to be mad at her. If anything, it should be the other way around.

“No, I’m not mad at you, Janet.” Dennis
squeezed her hand this time, moving in closer. “But I hope that you’ll consider
my suggestion.”

“What is it?”

“I understand how you feel about Alex,
but if you want to get back at the sucker, you’ll have to put your emotions
aside. Do you think you could do that?”

“What do you have in mind?” Janet asked.
A suggestion coming from Dennis Walker could never be simple.

“Go into his office on Monday and
apologize. Then do what he asked you to do.”

Janet crossed her arms on her chest,
flaring with indignation. She was not apologizing to Alex. “Why don’t you do it
yourself, Dennis? What’s stopping you from sucking up to the new boss?”

Dennis shook his head. “Janet, you
really need to learn how to cool it if you want to outmaneuver a man like Alex.
And for your information, I would gladly suck up to him, but the prick hates my
guts. He’s been sent here to shut me up, and there’s no way on earth I can
ingratiate myself with him. But you, on the other hand,” added Dennis, eyeing
Janet appraisingly, “have all the necessary equipment.”

Janet tightened her arms around her. “If
you’re suggesting—”

“I’m suggesting that we expose that
hypocritical bastard Kingsley for the slime that he is, and in order for us to
do that we’ll both need to swallow our pride. Please, Janet, just trust me on
this. Together we can outmaneuver the dirtbag.”

“Fine,” Janet sighed. She didn’t like
Dennis’s idea in the slightest, but then she didn’t really have much choice. At
least this way she would have a fighting chance with Dennis standing by her
side.

Janet paced the floor of her office,
clasping and unclasping her hands. The prospect of apologizing to Alex turned
her stomach, but she had promised Dennis that she would and there was no going
back now. How many women ended up having to apologize to their ex-boyfriends?
Not many, but she was one of the lucky few. There was no use grumbling about
it. She might as well get the humiliation over with.

With leaden steps, Janet walked down the
hallway that led to Alex’s office. She was about to knock on his door when the
sound of a female voice stopped her. “Do you have an appointment to see Mr.
Kingsley?”

Janet turned around and saw that the
question had come from Georgiana Russell, the flashy blonde Janet remembered
Alex introducing as his assistant. “Hi, Georgiana. No, I don’t, but I was
hoping I could see him.”

“I am in charge of Mr. Kingsley’s
schedule,” Georgiana replied, pouting her pink lips for emphasis. “I will check
if he is available.”

Before Georgiana had a chance to attend
to her task, Alex’s door opened and the man himself stood in the doorway.
“Janet! What a pleasant surprise. Come in, come in.”

“Thank you, Alex.”

Alex leaned against the door, holding it
open with his shoulder. “Please, have a seat,” Alex offered, motioning at the
chair that stood across from his desk and closed the office door.

Janet sat down and crossed her legs, her
skirt hiking up a few inches above her knee. When they had been together, Alex
had often told her that he loved the shape of her legs. She might as well use
every weapon in her arsenal.

“Alex,” Janet started tentatively, “I
wanted to apologize for speaking out of turn during our meeting last week.” She
lowered her eyelashes for added effect and then looked up at him again. “I
don’t know what came over me. I’m not like that at all. You are the head of
this department now, and I want to assure you that I will diligently carry out
any task that you choose to delegate to me. I can’t tell you how sorry I am and
how badly I feel about what happened.”

“No need to apologize, Janet,” Alex
assured her, waving his hand magnanimously. “I understand completely. We are
all human, and we all can be guilty of overreacting at times.”

“I am so glad that you understand.” What
a pompous prick Alex had become. He was so full of himself he could not see
past his own nose.

“And I am so glad that we have an
understanding, Janet. I promise that you will be well-rewarded for your
cooperation.”

“So, is there anything in particular
you’d like me to do?” Janet asked.

“For now, I just want you to keep a real
close watch on Dennis Walker. I tell you, Janet, the senior management is none
too happy with the stunt he pulled during the Bostoff / Emperial investigation.
He won’t get away with those kinds of antics on my watch. Not him, not anyone
else for that matter. If you see anything that doesn’t look right, you let me
know immediately.”

“I will, Mr. Kingsley.”

“Now, Janet, such old friends as us
hardly need to bother with formalities, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Thank you, Alex.”

“Thank you, Janet. I’m so glad to know
that I have a friend in you.”

“Of course, Alex. I’d better get back to
work.” Janet rose from her chair and moved toward the door.

“And Janet?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s grab a drink after work one of
these days.”

“Sure. I’d like that.” Janet hurried to
leave before Alex would come up with a place and time.

***

“So, how did it go?” Dennis looked at
Janet across the table. They were having lunch in a pub several blocks away
from the office. Dennis had specifically chosen a table that was facing the
door to survey any new arrivals.

“I think he bought it.”

“Told you so. Aren’t you glad that you
listened to me?”

“I’ll be even gladder when we nail the
bastard.”

“Boy, I wouldn’t want to cross you,
Janet. So, what does the boss want you to do?”

“Oh, nothing other than spy on your
every move and report to him immediately any suspicious activity.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have your
hands full.”

“Oh, and he also mentioned that he might
want to have drinks sometime.”

“Oh?” Dennis’s eyebrows rose. “Look,
Janet, I wouldn’t want you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

“Relax, Dennis. I’m a big girl. I can
handle Alex,” Janet’s voice was playful, but inside she was sizzling with
delight at Dennis’s reaction. The man was definitely jealous.

“I just meant that I wouldn’t want thing
to get too far out of hand.”

“They won’t. I wonder if I’m the only
one Alex asked to spy on you. I wonder if he spoke with Laskin at all. Do you
think we should ask him?”

“Oh, I don’t think we should. He might
get overexcited. He’s great at muckraking in Excel spreadsheets, but when it
comes to undercover work he can’t handle the stress. He might blab us out to
Alex.”

“This is hardly undercover work,
Dennis.” Janet shook her head. Male vanity never ceased to amaze her. It was
not enough for Dennis to know that he was far better looking and charming that
Laskin, he had to stomp on the poor chap every time he got the chance.

“Sure it is. It’s internal undercover
work,” Dennis retorted.

“I just thought it might be nice to have
Laskin on board, but suit yourself.”

“I’m not saying that it’s a bad idea,
but I think it’s too early for that, that’s all.”

David Muller motioned to the waitress
for another round of drinks. A few moments later, a pretty blonde brought two
dirty martinis to the table. The service at Delmonico’s was top-notch. David
was a frequent patron, and the waiters practically fell over themselves in
order to please him.

“To fortuitous outcomes,” said David as
he raised his drink, smiling at his lunch companion, Tom Wyman.

“Cheers.” Wyman took a long swallow of
his drink. “I must admit that I thought it was going to be touch and go for a
while,” Wyman added, popping an olive into his mouth.

“For a while,” David conceded, “but not
for long.” Wyman deserved much of the credit for the happy outcome, but that
did not give him the right to rub it in. Had Wyman not introduced David Muller
to Aileen Finnegan, David would not be celebrating his exoneration, but that
was where Wyman’s contribution ended. David did the rest of the work himself
and would have to continue doing it for the foreseeable future. The authorities
had built what seemed like a bulletproof case against David Muller and his
hedge fund, Emperial; the broker David conducted his dealings through; and
Bostoff Securities, along with its owner, Jonathan Bostoff. Fortunately,
however, there was no such thing as bulletproof evidence—not when one was
dating the daughter of New York’s attorney general. Aileen Finnegan was far
from being a beauty, but her father’s political clout more than made up for her
physical shortcomings.

“Aileen sure has fallen for you. But
then you were always quite the ladies’ man.”

David downed the rest of his drink,
refusing to dignify Wyman’s remark with an answer. Wyman had been in just as
much hot water as David. The services that Wyman had performed for Jon Bostoff
and Bostoff Securities were egregious enough for Wyman to lose his law license
and would have cost him a huge fine and possible jail time. David had been the
one to take the bullet for both of them. It just so happened that Aileen
Finnegan fancied David’s British charm. Despite his last name, David Muller had
little to do with Germany except for his ancestors who had left their homeland
for Great Britain somewhere in late eighteen hundreds. Not that David cared: his
was not a pedigree worthy of a family crest. But while his Essex accent placed
him solidly in the middle-class in his homeland, to Americans he was bona fide
English nobility.

“You are aware that Cornelius Finnegan
is expecting you to propose marriage to his daughter, right? He already thinks
of you as his son-in-law.” Wyman would not relent.

David flinched at the reminder of the
hefty price he had agreed to pay for his and Wyman’s freedom.

“They hung all the blame on that dope
Jon Bostoff, but the decision could easily be reversed if additional evidence
were discovered,” Wyman added.

As if David needed reminding just how
much additional evidence could come to light. He had devised the scheme
himself, and he had hired Tom Wyman to help him execute it. Bostoff Securities
was struggling financially, and Jonathan Bostoff, who had just taken over the
company management after his father, was the perfect mark. Hungry for profits,
he was dumb enough to go along with David’s plan. David sent stock prices
plummeting while reaping ginormous profits from his scheme, but legally Bostoff
was on the hook. All of David’s orders had been sent through Impala Group, a
Cayman Island-based company that Wyman had registered in Bostoff’s name. The
scheme seemed impenetrable until an undercover Treasury investigator managed to
get Wyman drunk and steal company documents from him, exposing David’s
elaborate cover-up. Cornelius Finnegan’s mighty hand had made the evidence
inadmissible, but David understood that his fortune could easily change if he
lost Finnegan’s protection. “I wonder what the statute of limitations is on the
case …” David mused.

Wyman placed his glass on the table and
stared at David. “Listen to me, David, and listen well: Cornelius Finnegan is
not a man to cross. He takes his family matters close to heart. If you were to
so much as harm a hair on his daughter’s head, the man would make sure that you
never saw the light of day again.”

“Yeah, you’re not the one banging her,
Tom.” Now that the deal had been struck, David felt that he had exchanged the
threat of physical prison for a figurative one. The prospect of years of making
love to a woman one abhorred seemed a sentence too wicked even for the most
inventive prosecutor to assign.

“I would gladly do the honors, but she
picked you. Get some Viagra for crying out loud!”

Normally, David would have been insulted
by Wyman’s words, but as the image of Aileen’s fleshy thighs and udder-like
breasts materialized in his mind, Viagra started to sound like a very good
idea.

“Get off your high horse, David,” Wyman
continued. “Let’s look at the facts: yes, you’ve made good money, but as far as
the big timers are concerned, it’s small change. With Cornelius Finnegan
backing you, you could play in the big leagues and no one would as much as dare
lay a finger on you.”

“Fine, you’ve convinced me. Now, let’s
order,” David snapped. A good steak was just what he needed to lift his
spirits.

An hour later, David Muller exited
Delmonico’s in a much better state of mind. He declined Wyman’s offer to split
a cab under the pretext of wanting to walk off the heavy dinner.