As she walked along the outside passageway, most people kept their eyes glued to their computer screens, though one woman, talking on the phone in one of the glass offices, took her in from top to bottom. Maybe, Kit thought, I don’t look hedge-fund-y enough in my jeans, turtleneck, and black riding boots.
Ungaro’s office was at the far end, and as she entered the room with Healy, the security chief rose in greeting. She’d imagined that he’d be beefy and bodyguard-like, but in his business casual pants and dress shirt, the slim, fit-looking Ungaro could have exchanged places with any of the other staff she’d spotted. Except for his age. He was about fifty, older than most of the other people she’d spotted, and with a rogue tuft of gray in his thick, dark hair.
Healy made the introduction, said goodbye, and then exited, closing the door behind him.
“Thank you for coming in, Ms. Finn,” Ungaro said. “We’re most appreciative. Our executives are privy to highly sensitive information, and we certainly don’t like the idea of one being impersonated.”
“I can understand,” she said.
“Please, have a seat. Matt shared some of the details but if you can walk me through them, I’d appreciate it.”
His tone was all friendly, but she knew it was probably purely for the benefit of his mission. He wanted the facts and he knew it wouldn’t do any good to put her on the defensive. She suspected that beneath that easygoing manner was a guy who got the job done at all costs.
After settling into the chair across from Ungaro, she explained how she’d first seen X at the hotel, then encountered him at the shop, and later had dinner with him, skipping the part about accompanying him to his room. That was nobody’s business but hers. She also provided a description of X.
Ungaro took notes while she spoke, but he glanced up from time to time, obviously trying to read her. Despite what Healy might have shared with him, it was clear he was reserving all judgment until he’d evaluated the situation himself.
“Did this man talk about his work at all?” Ungaro asked.
“Not really. As I told Mr. Healy, he mentioned he’d recently sold a tech business, but he didn’t say much about it.”
“By any chance do you have a photograph of him?”
“No, sorry, I don’t,” she said. The last thing she would have done is ask X if she could grab a selfie with him as a souvenir of their one-night stand.
Ungaro let his writing hand fall limp and leaned in toward the desk. His expression morphed from purely neutral to sympathetic.
“This is a tough question,” he said, “but I need to ask it. Do you think there’s any chance this man who called himself Healy could have targeted you?”
“Targeted?” she said. “I’m not sure what you mean.” But the very word had made her stomach knot.
“You see him in the hotel and then he just happens to pop into a small shop at the same time you’re there. Perhaps that wasn’t as random as it looked.”
“Well, it seemed perfectly random at the time,” she said, still trying to figure out what he was getting at. “It’s a small town and there are only so many shops there.”
“I’m just wondering if he felt there was something to gain from talking to you. . . . Information, for instance.”
“What information could he possibly want to extract from me?” Kit exclaimed. “I’m a decorator.”
She opened her purse, located a business card and handed it to Ungaro. “There, you can see for yourself. Even if he tied me up and put a gun to my head, all I’d be able to tell him was how to make his ceilings look higher—or what to do if he ended up with two shades of red that didn’t match.”
“I didn’t mean to concern you,” Ungaro said, sensing her agitation. “You’ve been quite helpful, and I should let you go.”
“Thank you.”
“By the way, what do you do with two shades of red that don’t match?”
Oh, that was funny, she thought. Was he really hoping for a decorating tip? Maybe he was just trying to gauge if she knew her stuff.
“You add a third shade of red. And then the eye isn’t bothered by the discrepancy anymore.” She rose from the chair, eager to split. “Am I supposed to talk to Mr. Healy again?”
“He has a trip scheduled so I offered to walk you out,” Ungaro said, rising himself.