“There’s something else I need to share, Baby,” Kit said. “I’m definitely meeting again with Garrett Kelman tonight—at nine. He wants to show me some of the evidence he’s accumulated.”
Baby sighed loudly. “I’m not going to say anything to try to stop you because I know I can’t. But if you aren’t back by 10:30, I’ll be fit to be tied.”
“I promise.”
“I mean it, Kit. If you’re not, I’m—I’m going to send out a tweet saying you tell all your clients to hang a disco ball above their beds.”
Despite how wired she felt, Kit burst out laughing.
At 8:30, she rode the elevator down to the marble lobby and asked the doorman to hail her a cab. A few minutes later one pulled into the courtyard and she nearly leapt inside. As the car crossed Central Park on 85th Street, she glanced nervously behind her. Farther back, at least two car lengths, was a taxi slowly gaining on them, but when they reached Central Park West, the taxi swung left and hers continued straight. She was pretty certain she hadn’t been followed.
She texted Kelman right before the cab pulled up to the corner, and as she swiped the card in the taxi’s charge machine, she saw him emerge from a building a short way down the block. The second she stepped onto the curb, he took her arm and ushered her up the street. Even through her jacket she could feel the tension in his grip.
Reaching the small, non-doorman building, he hurried them both inside. The lobby was empty, except for the Mexican take-out menus strewn across the floor. He motioned her toward the elevator and jabbed at the call button. Gone tonight, she saw, was his black Ninja look. Instead he was in blue jeans and a navy V-neck pullover sweater, with a triangle of bare skin showing on his chest. It was hard to imagine that once she had touched that skin, run her hands over it urgently, and tasted it with her mouth.
The elevator arrived a minute later, announcing itself with a metallic creaking sound, and as she stepped into the tiny space ahead of Kelman, her heart beat nervously. He pressed the button for the third floor. They were standing so close she could see all the freckles on his face. She could smell something citrusy, too—a cologne perhaps, or maybe just the soap he’d showered with.
The apartment turned out to be a small one-bedroom. The décor was Japanese in flavor—sparely designed furniture, polished wood floors, and a sliding shoji door with translucent screen panels, behind which Kit assumed was a bedroom. How incongruous, she thought, to be standing in a Zen-like space when her life was in shambles.
She saw Kelman relax a little as soon as he had the door locked behind them. But she didn’t let herself relax. She needed to be on guard, keep an eye on him.
“Anything to drink?” he asked.
“No, nothing.”
“Not even a cup of green tea?” he said with a faint smile. “I feel I should offer you that along with a bowl of edamame.”
She shook her head. He was trying to establish a rapport between them, but all she wanted was to get to the business at hand.
“Let’s sit down then,” he said, gesturing toward the sofa.
It was long and Japanese style, built low to the ground on a simple wooden platform. She took a seat at one end, and Kelman settled at the other one. Scanning the room quickly, she saw that there were no possessions in sight, nothing at least that seemed to belong to Kelman. She realized he’d probably stashed his belongings away in the bedroom, mindful of what had happened in Islamorada.
“You said you had something to show me,” she said.
“I do. I think it will help for you to see it. But tell me about your client first. I need to assess whether Ithaka was behind it.”
He listened intently as she gave him the broad outlines. That was all he was getting for now. A couple of times as she spoke, Kelman looked off, his eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to fit pieces together.
“Is it at all possible that someone your client knew actually killed her?” he asked when she finished. “Like an ex-boyfriend? Or a disgruntled employee?”
Kit shook her head dismissively. “She probably wasn’t a breeze to work for, but people seemed to respect her. And she told me she hadn’t dated anyone significant in at least six months.”