Impasse (32 page)

Katherine nodded, but frowned. “I don't want to think about that right now. He's in the past. Have you thought about our future?”

“Of course. Our next step is to buy the Bluestone Building.”

Katherine smiled, but it wasn't what she meant. “Together?”

“As partners. A couple hundred down and we can split the mortgage. Fifty-fifty or seventy-five–twenty-five—whatever you're comfortable with. We'll write off the interest. Imagine: no rent. It'll be heaven.”

“I'd rather have a summer place. All my friends have second homes.”

“You just got a house on the water.”

“But an apartment in the city would be exquisite. Manhattan, or even Boston.”

“Someday. Let's stop paying rent first.”

“Do we have a couple hundred?”

“We have a banker named Joe to front us the cash, and a financier named Molson who is going to pay it all off in about a month.”

“And what about
our
future?” Katherine ran a hand over his thigh so that there could be no mistaking her meaning this time.

A look of annoyance flashed across Clay's face, a dark shadow that came and went as though the sun had briefly ducked behind a cloud. He swatted her rump. “You just enjoy the trip, partner, and I promise life will keep getting more interesting.”

 

CHAPTER 39

“Here's a list of follow-up I've done so far this morning,” Audry said.

Stu looked up with his mouth full of Cheerios. She sat across from him with her computer tablet. She'd been up for hours, researching, and had let him sleep until ten. She turned the tablet toward him. Her list was a page long. It was Internet research on Roff.

Joseph Roff was sixty-three years old. His name had originally been Koph, but he'd changed it—Audry noted the reason as “unknown.” He had four sons, a daughter, and a deceased wife. A state business license showed that he lived in Providence, but he owned properties in New Bedford through a limited liability corporation called New England Imports, of which he was president and sole board member. Audry's list indicated that NE Imports showed up in searches for Bolt Construction three times and twice with Reggie Dugan.
Interesting.
Roff had also acquired an interest in a bankrupt Thai restaurant in New Bedford called the Poor Siamese, which was odd. The man had made the news only twice, but once it was in connection with an embezzler named Hranic, with whom Stu was familiar. In the article, it noted that Hranic had previously worked for NE Imports.

Stu skimmed the rest of Audry's list and raised an eyebrow. At the bottom was the name Sophia Baron.

He pointed. “Sophia Baron? What's this about?”

“You mentioned that Clay had dated a woman who whacked out and quit law school. I found her.”

“I doubt I used the term
whacked out
, and I didn't know we were looking for her.”

“You said to cast a broad net. Those were your words.”

“I meant cast it at Roff. The criminal.”

“We don't know who the criminal is. Besides, I have this nagging thing.”

“Thing?”

“A feeling.”

Stu rolled his eyes. Audry acted on feelings more than he was comfortable with. But he was curious about Sophia. She was, after all, the most beautiful classmate he'd ever had. “Fine. You have an e-mail or phone number for her?”

“Better. She's in Manhattan right now.”

“That's four hours away. We can't waste that much time just to talk to one of Clay's ex-girlfriends about … What are we even talking to her about?”

“She'll meet us halfway.”

“You already contacted her?”

“That's why I'm wasting your time.”

“Why? What did you tell her?”

“That I'm investigating a matter involving Clay Buchanan. And she was very eager to help.”

*   *   *

They met Sophia Baron in New Haven at the local park. There was a gazebo with a table. Audry brought a cappuccino for her. She was waiting on the bench and accepted the coffee gratefully, sipping while hiding behind the Grande-size cup. Stu marveled again at how beautiful she was, a woman approaching forty with grace and elegance, her only noticeable imperfections being troubled frown lines and the repeated tucking of her hair behind her ear, even when it was already tucked.

“Hello, Stu,” Sophia said quietly. “Your partner said you'd be here. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course,” Stu said, confused. He took her hand to shake it. “You remember me?”

“Oh yes. Everyone always said you were a nice guy, and people's hearts don't change, not deep down.” She shook her head. “I should have dated someone like you.”

Stu could feel her discomfort and need to talk. He gently placed his other hand on top of hers and patted it, something he would never have had the courage to do in law school. To his surprise, she smiled gratefully and added her other hand so that their four hands formed a mutually reassuring pile on the table between them.

Audry kept the discussion moving. “Sophia didn't want to go into detail with a stranger over the phone.”

“This is extremely personal,” Sophia said.

Stu nodded. “We appreciate whatever help you're willing to give us.” He was still unsure what sort of help she
could
give them.

“Audry promised that what I tell you won't end up in a lawsuit. I won't testify.”

“Correct,” Audry assured her. “We're just gathering background on Clayton Buchanan. Any prior character evidence we uncover wouldn't be admissible in any event.”

“Character evidence?” Stu said.

“He did something bad, didn't he?” Sophia's comment was more statement than question.

“We don't know,” Stu said.

Sophia tucked her hair. “I know.”

“Go ahead, Sophia,” Audry urged.

Sophia took a deep breath. She looked across the grass—not at Stu, not at Audry, but at some point in the distance.

“We met when he arrived at law school. He seemed confident. I was too, I thought. A good match. A power couple, you know. He was good-looking. I was modeling. Both future lawyers. We did the normal stuff at first; we met up for coffee with mutual friends, tried to run into each other at the same parties. He didn't seem to need to study like I did, and so I assumed he was brilliant.”

No,
Stu thought.
Just allergic to work.

“When we began to hang out alone, I was ready to take it further, but he waited a while, which surprised me. Then one night he started asking me about other boyfriends I'd had and what sort of things I'd done with them. Sexual things. It was playful, and he told me it didn't bother him. In fact, he wanted to hear, so I told him about something I'd done with my college boyfriend. A thing in the library. Clay got really excited, and we did it for the first time. I didn't think much of it. It was a little naughty, and I just thought he was open-minded, not jealous. Those are good things, right?

“But every time after that he wanted to know more about what I'd done and with who. And how. And where. Whenever we had sex, he'd ask me to talk about guys I'd been with. When I'd tell him, he'd encourage me to say how much I liked doing it with other men. After a while I'd described every sex act with everyone I'd ever dated. I even started to make some up; it was what got him going. That was our routine.

“Then one day he asked if he could tie me up. I was actually relieved to do something besides talk about other men, and the first time we did, it was actually kind of fun. He just tied my hands and used a blindfold. Normal stuff.”

Normal?
Stu fought to keep his expression neutral, but having Sophia Baron explain to him that she liked having sex blindfolded was not in any way normal for him. In fact, it was an unreachable fantasy. And she trusted him, which made Stu feel guilty just hearing it, like a dirty little boy peeking at his beautiful babysitter after promising to turn his back while she changed into her swimsuit. Telling the story was uncomfortable for her, he thought, and it wasn't fair for him to imagine it out of prurient curiosity. He tried to will himself clinical as she spoke.

“It became a thing,” she continued, her purging creating its own momentum now. “He called our bondage sessions ‘private parties.' He'd blindfold me, gag my mouth, then tie me to the bed on my stomach and put headphones on me. He made sure I was comfortable, and he played my favorite songs. I actually thought it was kind of sweet. Then there was the sex, usually after drinking. One night we did it four or five times, or so I thought.”

“What do you mean by you
thought
?” Audry said gently.

“The blindfold slipped. I could see a sliver of the room, and there was Clay, my supposed boyfriend, sitting in a chair next to the bed.”

Stu waited for her to go on.

“He was fully clothed,” she added.

“And what happened?” Stu asked.

“He wasn't behind me,” Sophia said.

“I don't understand.”

“… someone else was,” Audry finished for her.

“Several someones, I think,” Sophia said.

“Oh,” Stu whispered, sucking in a breath, “my God.”

Sophia tucked her hair again and blinked away a tear. “The crazy thing is, I would have been willing to try things for him if he'd asked, if he'd loved me.”

“Really?” Stu said, unable to stop the curious boy in himself.

“It's true,” Audry cut in. “We girls will do all kinds of kinky stuff if we trust a guy one hundred percent.”

“I still don't even know who the other men were,” Sophia said. “Except one—this fat jerk who hung around Clay and wrote his Con Law term paper for him.”

Stu immediately knew who she was talking about. Tom Franken. A classmate. Loudmouth. Drinker. Smart, and ready to let you know it. But Stu was surprised Tom would help Clay cheat.

“Whenever this guy was around me that semester, he made crude puns about sex. I had no idea what he meant until the night I discovered that our ‘private parties' had
not
been private. Then I understood why he'd written Clay's paper for him.”

“Clay pimped you out,” Audry concluded.

Stu grimaced. “Did you report him?”

“I couldn't.” Sophia tucked her hair yet again. “I had orgasms.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“At the time, I thought I was having sex with Clay, my boyfriend. You understand? My body reacted to what those men did to me; he secretly took videos of them giving me orgasms. Before that, he had recorded me talking about how much I liked having sex with other men. How could I convince the police it wasn't consensual if Clay had those to show them?”

Stu shook his head. “Jeezus. He preemptively created his own exculpatory evidence.”

“I quit school. I couldn't walk down the hall without wondering who—”

“I understand,” Stu said. He wanted to comfort her, to reach out and hold her hand again, but she was busy tucking her hair with it.

“I gave up a career as an attorney.”

“You're in New York?”

“Yes. I'm on my feet now. Good job. But relationships have been tough.”

“Not married?”

“I've had some trust issues with men.”

“Right.”

“You don't have to say any more,” Audry offered. “I think we have what we need.”

“Okay,” Sophia said. “Thank you for listening. I've never told anyone.” She sat silent for a moment, visibly decompressing, then she gave a weak smile. “I saw you on
America's Unsolved,
you know. I told my roommate, ‘Hey, I know that guy.'”

Stu nodded. “You've trusted me with something deeply personal, Sophia. Now I have to trust you.”

“All right.”

“I sort of went off the grid since that TV stuff happened.”

“You got fired. I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm so stupid.…”

“No, no. You're fine. Everyone heard about that. But this meeting is a secret. In fact,
I'm
a secret. I'm in hiding.”

“And you're investigating Clay?”

“Right.”

“Did he threaten to kill you, too?”

 

CHAPTER 40

“Threatening to kill is only one step removed from attempting to kill,” Audry said from her couch.

Stu spoke over his shoulder as he punished stir-fry with an angry spatula. “Clay never threatened me. Can we be absolutely sure Sophia is credible? She does seem a bit messed up.”

“As you would expect. But she has a good soul. I could feel it. Besides, she was one hundred percent right about Clay's sexual fetish. It's exactly what we saw him do last night. He's a watcher.”

“What is that supposed to mean? He's some sort of voyeur?”

“No, a watcher. He gets off on watching other men take his woman.”

“You think he tried to have me killed so he could watch Katherine have sex with someone besides himself? He could have just put a friggin' ladder up to our bedroom window.”

“Lust and jealousy are traditional and powerful motives for homicide, aren't they, Mr. Prosecutor?”

“Conceded. But he's obviously not an overly jealous person if he wants to see other men with his women.”

“Au contraire. The jealousy is what makes the fetish so compelling. It drives the watcher's urge to take the woman himself, to win her back, to mark his territory. It's competition at the most base level. He probably had to have Sophia talk about other men to get it up.”

“And now he's dragged Katherine into it.”

“Unless she's just … into it.”

“Thanks for that thought.”

“I'm just sayin'.”

“You talk like a teenager, you know that?”

“Because I have a teenager.”