9:53 P.M.
9:53 P.M.
“So, tell me,” Jeannette Pascal said to Brigit as they joined up on the terrace. “Did I just see you talking with that young real estate mogul?"
"If you mean Tevin Greene, then, yes."
"Isn’t he charming?"
"Very."
"I’ve only exchanged a few words with him. Every syllable oozed with charm.”
“That’s because it’s salesman charm, my dear.” Marcel’s words poured from the corner of his mouth, dressed in thick, pallid plumes of cigar smoke. He swept errant ashes from his black suit jacket. “His charm cannot be trusted...much like a crocodile’s tears.”
“You’re far too distrusting.”
“Brigit," the ember on Marcel’s cigar brightened as he inhaled. "Was his charm genuine?”
“It seemed so.”
“Seemed so indeed!” To Philip, he said, “And what was your first impression?”
“Honestly? I don’t know him well enough to compliment him or cast aspersions.” He almost took out his secret cigarettes instead of the lone cigar Brigit allowed. Marcel offered his silver cigar cutter and he waved it off before chomping off its end, an action which gave away his roots. “I get the sense you don’t care much for him.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“What don’t you like about him?” Brigit said to Marcel, her entire face once again changing as it expressed displeasure. “Sales charm or not, he was very pleasant toward me.”
“No particular reason. I’ve only met him a few times, briefly, at engagements like this, but—I just don’t trust him.”
“Surely there must be some pretence.”
“Maybe it’s just that I don’t trust any man who amasses such a fortune overnight. Especially without lineage.”
“Are you implying he’s a criminal?" Brigit said, as if offended at the notion.
“No. Well, maybe.”
“Don’t start rumours,” Jeannette said. "It’s impolite."
“It’s not a rumour. It is but one man’s opinion.”
“No, dear, it’s conjecture. And we all know how destructive that can be. Just look at what it has done to Mayor Deakins bid for re-election.”
“Just forget it, will you? I’m sure Tevin Greene is on the up-and-up. I just have a feeling about him. Like he’s a predator hiding in plain sight.”
“In this world,” Philip said, finally lighting his cigar. “If you’re not the predator, you’re prey.”
Brigit’s phone rang. “It’s Kimberly. Excuse me for a minute."
Marcel gestured for her to go.
“Tell her I love her, Christopher too. And that we might be a little late. Or early.”
“I will.”
She walked to the far end of the terrace where she was alone. A cloud blotted out the moon as she answered the call. “Kim?”
“Mom?”
“What is it, honey? You sound distressed.”
"I saw a man outside.”
“Where?”
“On the patio, in the back yard.”
“Are you and your brother watching scary movies again? You know how they affect you.”
“No, mom, we’re not. I really saw him. I mean, it was dark, but I saw him move. I know I did. I felt his eyes on me.”
“Check the system.”
“Okay.” The sounds of motion came through the phone as Kim walked to the security system panel. A chill was born where her husband’s warm hand surprised her and it died between her ears.
“What do the motion sensors say?”
“One second." Scuffling. "Okay, I’m checking."
"And?"
"They don’t say anything.”
“Did the security lights come on?”
“No.”
“And the cameras?”
“Nothing.” Kim breathed heavy into the phone. "I don’t see anything."
“Then there is nothing to worry about.”
“But Mom, I saw him.” Kimberly sounded close to tears. “He was watching me while I made a sundae. I know he was. I had that feeling I was being watched, so I turned, and then there he was. For a second.”
“If anyone so much as stepped three feet onto the grounds, the system would tell you. So long as the system is armed and the doors and windows are locked, you are entirely safe. There is nothing to be afraid of.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am.” She tapped her foot impatiently. “Honey, you are safe.”
“Okay, Mom. Hearing you say that makes me feel better.”
“If any of the alarms go off, we’ll be notified too. If something else happens, call me.”
“I will.”
“Good. How is everything there? Is your brother behaving?”
“He’s mostly just been playing Minecraft in his room.”
“Alright. Just remember that his bedtime is still eleven. We should be home after midnight, and I expect to come home to a clean and quiet house. You know we are having important guests over after the fundraiser.”
“Don’t worry." A faucet turned on. "Everything is cleaned up already.”
“I’m glad. Have a good night.”
“Okay, I will.”
After hanging up, she rejoined the group as Jeannette stepped away, no doubt to visit the bar.
“How are the kids?” Philip said.
“Fine.”
“Good.”
Milton joined them with a scotch on the rocks in hand. “I love this place. They have the good stuff.”
"What kept you?” Marcel said. "Had a few without us?"
"Uh, I was eavesdropping at the bar." He rubbed his nostrils with the back of his hand, just in case there was evidence of his cocaine use on them. “There was some juicy conversation going on I think you two will be interested in.”
“What?”
Despite them being alone on the terrace, Milton leaned in and whispered, “There’s talk of indictments.”
“Indictments? Who?” Philip said.
“I didn’t pick up any names. All I heard is that one or more in Deakins’s camp are evidently lumped into a R.I.C.O. case. Corruption, bribery, inside trading, maybe mob connections. Even heard the word murder, but it could have been unrelated.”
“I wonder why we haven’t heard.”
“I think most people are refraining from talking about it here.”
“And for good reason!” Marcel said. “None of us want to see further ignominy cast on the Mayor’s Office. We’re all trying to get him re-elected.”
“How legitimate is the rumour?” Brigit said.
“Legitimate enough to explain this horrible turnout tonight,” Philip said. "Someone in the DA’s office must have warned someone and it leaked from there."
“This is scary.” Marcel said.
Milton lit a cigarette.
“How so?" Brigit said. "If Deakins is innocent, I mean.”
“It’s scary,” Philip said with a puff on his cigar. “It’s scary because if the rumour is legitimate, it means investigations are over and we’ll hear of arrests in the coming days. Guilty or innocent, anyone connected to those who are implicated will lose political and financial capital.”
“If the right people are affected, the market could make some interesting shifts this week.” Marcel sipped his whiskey. As one of New York City’s premiere stock brokers, hearing this information now could be the difference between his clients losing big or winning big. “I’ll keep an ear to the ground on that front.”
“You’d better! We pay you for a reason!” Milton slapped him on the shoulder. “All the same, I’m not sure why this would affect the market in a way I should be worried.”
“If it’s a R.I.C.O. case, the Bureau will seize millions and millions worth of assets. Sanctions will be imposed, trade halted, shares frozen, heads and limbs lopped off. With the indictment of the right, or should I say wrong people, there could be a fire sale. Legally, the government can grab anyone indicted by the balls and bleed them dry in costly legal fees.” He held his cigar out at Philip. “Ask him, he’ll tell you how it works.”
“He’s right. It could be a complete catastrophe. Then again, it could be blip on the radar.”
“It does present an opportunity if we get ahead of this thing.” Marcel tapped the ash of his cigar. “And if there is an opportunity for us to make some cash, I’ll find it.”
“Poor Harold.” Brigit sighed and finished her champagne. “If anyone he’s closely linked to is implicated—”
“It will destroy any chance of re-election,” Philip said.
“Let’s just pray it does not come to that. Harold Deakins is still the mayor this city needs, dammit!” Marcel turned and gestured along the cityscape twinkling through the shadowy trees of Central Park. “He’s done more for this city in one term than the past five mayors combined for Christ sakes!”
“If such things do come to pass,” Philip said, “it is vital that we remain steadfast in our support. In a few days, he may need us a hell of a lot more than he does tonight. People are bound to abandon ship.”
"The speciality of the rat," Milton mused.
“Can you imagine having that conservative bastard Byron Jackson in office?" Marcel said. "The city would go to hell in a hand basket after he takes a chainsaw to the budget and destroys all the good Deakins had done.”
Philip’s phone dinged as he received a text message. Looking at it, he said, “Uh-oh.”
“What is it?” Brigit said.
“Deakins wants to see me."
“That can’t be good.” Milton said.
“Good for me, bad for Deakins.” His phone dinged again. “Sorry, honey. He wants me right now.”
“You know I’m capable of entertaining myself.” She gave her short, straight, blonde hair a flip, and the bones in her face performed their magic and she became the woman he’d married for the first time that night. “Do what you have to do.”
He nodded. Well, if this is about what we’re assuming it’s about, don’t even bother asking what we talk about because you know I can’t tell.”
“Ah, fuck off!” Marcel gave a stern flick of his wrist. “Just go save our guy.”