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Authors: E.J. Simon
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seconds, unable to process another strange occurrence. “I don’t know. I can only imagine,” he said.
Fletcher looked totally perplexed.
Michael was silent, his mind now wandering back to Queens. He was hesitant to bring up Russell’s murder now with Samantha already in shock.
“This is just too bizarre,” Fletcher continued. “You know all we get in Westport are either burglaries or kids causing trouble. But this doesn’t fit either of those. Samantha’s jewelry here wasn’t touched, and no burglar is going to call you on the phone and install an expensive monitor in your bedroom—and I can’t even begin to think about how we were notified. It’s all too dangerous and sophisticated for a juvenile prank. This guy was a pro. Who would want to do that?”
Samantha looked at Michael and said exactly what he was thinking from the moment he realized the alarm system had been disabled, “This has to be connected to your brother.”
Fletcher jumped in, saving Michael from having to speak. “Michael, you always purposely stayed clear of anything to do with Alex’s business though, didn’t you?”
Michael knew Fletcher was in a delicate position as both his close friend and a local law enforcement officer. Not that Michael had done anything illegal, at least not yet.
After an awkward silence, Michael looked at Fletcher, then at Samantha, and said, “We need to talk. There’s another murder I need to tell you about.”
Chapter 13
New York City
November 13, 2009
T he Carlyle had hosted presidents, dictators, kings, queens, divas, and princesses, but tonight it sheltered Donna Nicholas in a junior suite and her private security guard in an adjoining room.
Michael stood in the lobby and watched as Donna emerged from the elevator, each step loudly announcing her arrival as her heels seemed to prance to a silent marching band on the white marble floor. All she needed, Michael thought, was a baton or a stripper’s pole.
She was dressed to kill—another short black dress showing off her long, slim legs and thigh-high leather boots with six-inch black-and-silver stiletto high heels. A diamond necklace drew the eye to the center of attention: Donna’s perfect breasts, a triumph of silicone technology and Dr. Simonetti’s genius. As always, she showed just enough cleavage to attract every male set of eyes in the lobby. Her Chanel No. 5 preceded her by just a few seconds and followed her for much longer. Michael took in her scent.
Until now, he felt he had never really noticed her before. She looked enticing, even seductive. He put that thought quickly out of his mind.
“Donna, you look great.” As he said it, Michael wasn’t sure he was comfortable with how it came out. He helped Donna put on her full-length mink coat, which she was carrying over her arm.
“Well, thank you, Michael. That’s unusual for you to say. I’m flattered.”
Michael was unsure how to take that remark and decided he really didn’t want to know. He figured it would have something to do with the distance he had always kept from his brother and any of his wives. “Let’s get out of the hotel. How about Cafe Boulud across the street? I have a reservation for us.”
“Michael, that’s perfect.”
Fortunately they didn’t have far to walk. Manhattan was bitter cold, made worse by a strong November wind blowing through the streets. As they crossed Seventy-Sixth Street and then Madison Avenue, the entrance to the discreetly elegant restaurant was just a few doors ahead on the left. As they entered under the green canopy and into the small reception area of the restaurant, a breeze of warm air enveloped them. It felt comforting and secure. They were both efficiently relieved of their coats and shown to a quiet and private table in a cozy alcove off to the left.
The waiter, obviously assuming they were a couple, politely offered to seat them side by side. It was a favorite choice for Michael when he dined here with Samantha.
Fletcher looked totally perplexed.
Michael was silent, his mind now wandering back to Queens. He was hesitant to bring up Russell’s murder now with Samantha already in shock.
“This is just too bizarre,” Fletcher continued. “You know all we get in Westport are either burglaries or kids causing trouble. But this doesn’t fit either of those. Samantha’s jewelry here wasn’t touched, and no burglar is going to call you on the phone and install an expensive monitor in your bedroom—and I can’t even begin to think about how we were notified. It’s all too dangerous and sophisticated for a juvenile prank. This guy was a pro. Who would want to do that?”
Samantha looked at Michael and said exactly what he was thinking from the moment he realized the alarm system had been disabled, “This has to be connected to your brother.”
Fletcher jumped in, saving Michael from having to speak. “Michael, you always purposely stayed clear of anything to do with Alex’s business though, didn’t you?”
Michael knew Fletcher was in a delicate position as both his close friend and a local law enforcement officer. Not that Michael had done anything illegal, at least not yet.
After an awkward silence, Michael looked at Fletcher, then at Samantha, and said, “We need to talk. There’s another murder I need to tell you about.”
Chapter 13
New York City
November 13, 2009
T he Carlyle had hosted presidents, dictators, kings, queens, divas, and princesses, but tonight it sheltered Donna Nicholas in a junior suite and her private security guard in an adjoining room.
Michael stood in the lobby and watched as Donna emerged from the elevator, each step loudly announcing her arrival as her heels seemed to prance to a silent marching band on the white marble floor. All she needed, Michael thought, was a baton or a stripper’s pole.
She was dressed to kill—another short black dress showing off her long, slim legs and thigh-high leather boots with six-inch black-and-silver stiletto high heels. A diamond necklace drew the eye to the center of attention: Donna’s perfect breasts, a triumph of silicone technology and Dr. Simonetti’s genius. As always, she showed just enough cleavage to attract every male set of eyes in the lobby. Her Chanel No. 5 preceded her by just a few seconds and followed her for much longer. Michael took in her scent.
Until now, he felt he had never really noticed her before. She looked enticing, even seductive. He put that thought quickly out of his mind.
“Donna, you look great.” As he said it, Michael wasn’t sure he was comfortable with how it came out. He helped Donna put on her full-length mink coat, which she was carrying over her arm.
“Well, thank you, Michael. That’s unusual for you to say. I’m flattered.”
Michael was unsure how to take that remark and decided he really didn’t want to know. He figured it would have something to do with the distance he had always kept from his brother and any of his wives. “Let’s get out of the hotel. How about Cafe Boulud across the street? I have a reservation for us.”
“Michael, that’s perfect.”
Fortunately they didn’t have far to walk. Manhattan was bitter cold, made worse by a strong November wind blowing through the streets. As they crossed Seventy-Sixth Street and then Madison Avenue, the entrance to the discreetly elegant restaurant was just a few doors ahead on the left. As they entered under the green canopy and into the small reception area of the restaurant, a breeze of warm air enveloped them. It felt comforting and secure. They were both efficiently relieved of their coats and shown to a quiet and private table in a cozy alcove off to the left.
The waiter, obviously assuming they were a couple, politely offered to seat them side by side. It was a favorite choice for Michael when he dined here with Samantha.
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