‘Thank you,’ Thorne said. ‘Really, thank you. You didn’t have to tell us any of this.’
‘Yeah, I kind of did. We all get that one case, you know? I was there at the school that day. I remember talking to Sherri and thinking, goddamn, if they’d just given the poor kid his guitar, none of this would have happened. And then Sherri died. I hated that. She seemed like such a nice girl.’
Thorne swallowed hard. ‘She was. She really was.’
Prew sighed. ‘And then I talked to you, and you were just . . . lost. Abandoned by your mother and stepfather. Targeted by Linden. So . . . yeah, Mr Thorne, I really had to. Just . . . don’t make any more trouble, okay? I mean, I don’t think you made any back then, but somebody has a hard-on for you. Don’t give them any rope.’
Thorne made his lips curve. ‘I’ll do my very best,’ he said tightly.
Prew winced. ‘Ouch. I knew I should’ve shut my mouth while I was ahead. I didn’t mean I thought you were guilty. Not then. And from what I hear at the water cooler, not now.’
Jamie cocked his head. ‘What do you hear at the water cooler?’
‘Well, Gil Segal – the victim’s husband – is a judge, right? Rumor has it that he and the missus were having some hard times. They bought a lot of property and then Patricia’s business tanked. So that was bad. But my wife heard that Patricia was having an affair.’
All four of them blinked. ‘Where did she hear that?’ Phil asked.
Prew grinned. ‘Beauty parlor.’
‘Told you so,’ Gwyn said. ‘Any water cooler rumors about who she was doing on the side?’
‘Not that my wife told me, but I’ll ask her that too.’ Prew shrugged. ‘She wasn’t well liked, Mrs Segal. So take whatever rumors you hear with a grain of salt.’
‘What business was she in?’ Thorne asked.
Prew frowned. ‘I’m not sure. Something she was doing for her father. Again, my wife will know.’
‘What salon does your wife use?’ Gwyn asked him.
‘I have no idea. I’ll ask her.’ He checked his watch. ‘I have to be going soon. I have a tee time at eleven. Keep me up to speed, if you don’t mind. If there’s any arresting of Linden, I’d really like to be there to witness it. You know, for old times’ sake.’
‘We will,’ Thorne promised.
Baltimore, Maryland,
Monday 13 June, 10.30 A.M.
Frederick turned a three-sixty on the deserted dance floor of Sheidalin. ‘Hello?’ he called. ‘Anybody home?’
‘Just a second!’ A voice came from an open door behind the bar. Sheldon Mowry appeared, an iPad clutched in one hand. The club’s assistant manager frowned when he saw Frederick hurrying over. ‘What is it? Is Thorne okay?’
‘Yes,’ Frederick said. ‘I just talked to Phil and Jamie. Thorne’s . . . you know. Thorne.’
Mowry rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, I got that.’
Frederick studied the man for a moment. He was in his early thirties, slender, with wild hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in a decade. His arms were covered with tattoos. But his eyes were clear and without guile. Almost . . . innocent. Thorne vouched for the guy, but those innocent eyes rang an alarm bell in Frederick’s mind. He’d checked Mowry out before coming here this morning, but had found nothing pre-dating his time here at Sheidalin, and that raised too many flags. There was something going on with this guy, and Frederick needed to know what that was.
He’d come to Sheidalin with two goals in mind: first, to check out the employees, especially those who’d known Thorne a long time. Whoever had set this plan in motion knew Thorne well enough to know where to dig for his past. The second goal was to meet with Sally Brewster, the friend of Bernice Brown who’d been harassed by a detective. Frederick wanted to know why a detective had been looking for Thorne’s client. Miss Brewster should be arriving in twenty minutes, so he had a little time to dig into the employees before then.
‘How long have you known Thorne?’ he asked Mowry.
The assistant manager’s smile was wry. ‘If you’ve got a question about me, just ask.’ His smile slid into a full smirk. ‘You won’t find what you’re looking for any other way.’
Frederick’s lips twitched. ‘A challenge.’
A shrug. ‘Do your worst. Why are you here? I didn’t call for legal assistance.’
‘I needed to make sure everything was running smoothly. Gwyn and Thorne aren’t going to be able to give this place their full attention for a while.’
Mowry’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he didn’t call bullshit. ‘Look, I ran this club before Gwyn became the full-time manager. She did the books then, and some event planning, but she was mostly busy doing paralegal shit for Thorne. I was in charge of the day-to-day. She was basically a performer back then, like Lucy and Thorne are now. So I know what to do.’
The man was defensive, Frederick thought. And maybe a little bitter? ‘Did you take a pay cut when Gwyn took over?’
Mowry sighed, kind of impatiently. ‘Nope. Hold on a minute.’ He turned back to the door through which he’d come. ‘Laura?’ he called, and the bartender stuck her head out. ‘Can you finish the inventory yourself?’
‘Of course. Give me the iPad.’ She met him halfway, taking the tablet before giving Frederick a worried look. ‘Why are you here, Frederick? Is Thorne okay?’
‘He’s fine,’ Frederick assured her. Twenty-six years old, Laura had been born in Russia and had been adopted by a family in Virginia when she was an infant. Most of her Facebook photos were of her and her little boy. From what information he’d been able to gather, the toddler’s father was not in the picture. Laura’s mother was a big help, though. According to her employment records, which Thorne kept on file at the firm, Laura had missed not one shift in the six months that she’d worked for Sheidalin.
She gave him the same suspicious look that Mowry had. ‘Okay. I’ll be in the back if you need me,’ she added to Mowry before leaving them alone.
Mowry’s gaze had become perturbed. ‘If you’re looking for dirt here, you won’t find it. We are all loyal to Thorne.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Frederick said, and Mowry snorted.
‘Come on.’ He led the way to a table near the empty stage. ‘Let’s sit. I’ve got a long day ahead of me, so I’ll rest my feet now.’ He waited until Frederick had taken his seat, then launched them in an unexpected direction. ‘You know what happened to Gwyn, right? Four years ago?’
Frederick nodded. ‘I’ve seen the police report.’ He’d read how Gwyn’s boyfriend had been using her to get to Lucy because the man had a sick obsession for revenge, believing that Lucy had been involved in the death of his sister. She hadn’t been, of course, but others had. Those people who Evan wanted to kill had been truly bad, but Lucy had been caught in the crossfire. Gwyn had been an unwitting front for him, providing him with easy access to his prey. ‘She was abducted by a killer so that he could lure Lucy. Both Lucy and Gwyn were saved. Gwyn was credited with saving Lucy’s mother.’
Mowry gave him a disgusted look. ‘That’s all?’
‘That’s all there was in the report. All that concerned Gwyn, anyway.’
‘Exactly. See, nobody in the media ever goes back to find out how the victims of the crime are doing years later. Yes, Gwyn was saved, and yes, she saved Lucy’s mother. But she had to leave Lucy behind with a killer. Lucy forced her to.’
Frederick exhaled carefully. ‘I see.’
Mowry gave him a yeah-right look. ‘Do you? Do you really?’
Frederick nodded. ‘I was in the army. Special Forces. I had to leave a man behind once so that I could get two others out. I went back for him, but it was too late. He was dead.’ He swallowed hard, pushing the memory away when it knocked at the door of his mind. ‘He was my friend. One of my best.’