She glanced back to see the policeman moving toward the thug. Kelly stepped into a waiting taxi.
As the burly man started to get into the SUV, the policeman said, “Just a minute, mister. It’s against the law in this state to solicit prostitutes.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Let me see some identification. What’s your name?”
“Harry Flint.”
Flint watched as Kelly’s taxi sped away. That whore! I’ll kill her. Slowly.
Chapter 22
KELLY ALIGHTED FROM a taxi in front of Diane’s apartment building, stormed up to the front door, and pressed the bell hard.
The door was opened by Detective Greenburg. “Can I—?”
Kelly saw Diane in the living room and moved past the detective.
“What’s going on?” Diane asked. “You said you—”
“You tell me what’s going on. I told you to tell your Mafia friends to leave me alone. They tried to grab me again. Why are your Mafia buddies trying to kill me?”
“I—I have no idea. They wouldn’t—maybe they saw us together and thought we were friends and—”
“Well we’re not friends, Mrs. Stevens. Get me out of this.”
“What are you talking about? How can I—?”
“The same way you got me into it. I want you to tell your buddy, Altieri, that you and I just met, and you don’t know me. I’m not going to let someone murder me because of some stupid thing you did.”
Diane said, “I can’t—”
“Oh, yes, you can. You’re going to talk to Altieri and you’re going to talk to him now. I’m not leaving here until you do.”
Diane said, “What you’re asking is impossible. I’m sorry if I got you involved in this, but…” She was thoughtful for a long moment, then turned to Greenburg. “Do you think if I talked to Altieri he might leave us both alone?”
Greenburg said, “That’s an interesting question. He might—especially if he thinks we’re watching him. Would you like to talk to him personally?”
Diane said, “No, I—”
Kelly interrupted. “She means yes.”
ANTHONY ALTIERI’S HOME was a classic stone and frame colonial-style house, in Hunterdon County, New Jersey. The enormous house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, on fifteen acres of land, surrounded by a huge, high, iron fence. On the grounds were tall shade trees, ponds, and a colorful garden.
A guard sat in a booth inside the front gate. As the car with Greenburg, Kelly, and Diane drove up, the guard walked out to meet it.
He recognized Greenburg. “Afternoon, Lieutenant.”
“Hello, Caesar. We want to see Mr. Altieri.”
“Do you have a warrant?”
“It’s not that kind of visit. This is a social call.”
The guard glanced at the two women. “Wait here.” He walked inside, to the booth. A few minutes later he came out and opened the gate. “You can go in.”
“Thanks.” Greenburg drove up to the front of the house.
As the three of them got out of the car, a second guard appeared. “Follow me.”
He led them inside. The large living room was an eclectic combination of antiques and modern and French furniture. In spite of the fact that the day was warm, there was a roaring fire in the huge stone fireplace. The trio followed the guard through the living room into a large darkened bedroom. Anthony Altieri was in bed, attached to a respirator. He was pale and gaunt and seemed to have aged greatly since the short time he had appeared in court. A priest and a nurse were at his side.
Altieri looked at Diane, Kelly, and Greenburg, then turned back to Diane. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and raspy. “What the hell do you want?”
Diane said, “Mr. Altieri, I want you to leave Mrs. Harris and me alone. Call off your men. It’s enough that you killed my husband and—”
Altieri cut in. “What are you talking about? I never even heard of your husband. I read about that bullshit note found on his body.” He sneered. “ ‘He’ll swim with the fishes.’ Somebody’s seen The Sopranos too many times. I’ll tell you something for free, lady. No Italian wrote that. I’m not after you. I don’t give a damn whether you live or die. I’m not after anybody. I—” He winced in pain. “I’m busy making my peace with God. I—” He began to choke.
The priest turned to Diane. “I think it would be better if you left now.”
Detective Greenburg asked, “What is it?”
The priest said, “Cancer.”
Diane looked at the man on the bed. I’m not after you. I don’t give a damn whether you live or die…. I’m busy making my peace with God. He was telling the truth.
And Diane was filled with a sudden, blinding panic.
ON THE DRIVE back from Altieri’s, Detective Greenburg looked worried. “I have to tell you, I think Altieri meant what he said.”
Kelly reluctantly nodded. “So do I. The man is dying.”
“Do you know of any reason why someone would try to kill the two of you?”
“No,” Diane said. “If it isn’t Altieri—” She shook her head. “I have no idea.”
Kelly swallowed. “Neither have I.”
DETECTIVE GREENBURG ESCORTED Diane and Kelly back into Diane’s apartment. “I’m going to get to work on this now,” he said, “but you’ll be safe here. In fifteen minutes there will be a police cruiser outside your apartment building for the next twenty-four hours, and we’ll see what we can find out by then. If you need me, call.”
And he was gone.
DIANE AND KELLY stared at each other. There was an awkward silence.
“Would you like some tea?” Diane asked.
Kelly said perversely, “Coffee.”
Diane looked at her a moment, irritated, and sighed. “Right.”
Diane walked into the kitchen to start the coffee. Kelly wandered around the living room, looking at the paintings on the walls.
When Diane came out of the kitchen, Kelly was studying one of Diane’s paintings. “Stevens.” She turned to Diane. “Did you paint this?”
Diane nodded. “Yes.”
Kelly said in a dismissive tone of voice, “Pretty.”
Diane’s lips tightened. “Oh? Do you know a lot about art?”
“Not much, Mrs. Stevens.”
“Who do you like? Grandma Moses, I suppose.”
“She’s interesting.”
“And what other primitive painters touch your heart?”
Kelly turned to face Diane. “To be honest, I prefer the curvilinear, nonrepresentational form. There are exceptions, of course. For instance, in Titian’s Venus of Robin, the diagonal sweep of her form is breathtaking, and—”
From the kitchen, they could hear the coffee percolating.
Diane said curtly, “The coffee is ready.”
THEY WERE SEATED across from each other in the dining room, taciturn, letting their coffee get cold.
Diane broke the silence. “Can you think of any reason why someone would try to kill us?”
“No.” Kelly was silent for a moment. “The only connection you and I have is that both our husbands worked at KIG. Maybe they were involved in some top secret project. And whoever killed them thinks they might have told us about it.”
Diane paled. “Yes…”
They looked at each other in dismay.
IN HIS OFFICE, Tanner was watching the scene taking place in Diane’s apartment, on one of the wall television sets. His chief security guard stood next to him.
“No. The only connection you and I have is that both our husbands worked at KIG. Maybe they were involved in some top secret project. And whoever killed them thinks they might have told us about it.”
“Yes…”
THE STEVENS APARTMENT had been wired with state-of-the-art television and sound. Just as Tanner had told his partner, the house was filled with cutting-edge technology. There were concealed video systems in every room of the apartment, with a Web-based camera the size of a button resting among the books, bent fiber-optic wires under the doors, and a wireless picture frame camera. In the attic, a video server the size of a laptop computer had been installed to service six cameras. Attached to the server was a wireless modem that allowed the equipment to function through cellular technology.
AS TANNER LEANED forward, watching the screen intently, Diane said, “We have to find out what our husbands were working on.”
“Right. But we’re going to need help. How do we do that?”
“We’ll call Tanner Kingsley. He’s the only one who can help us, and he’s trying to find out who’s behind all this.”
“Let’s do it.”
DIANE SAID, “YOU can spend the night here. We’ll be safe. There’s a police car stationed outside.” She walked over to the window and pulled the curtain back. There was no car.
She stared for a long moment and felt a sudden chill. “That’s strange,” Diane said. “There was supposed to be a patrol car here. Let me make a phone call.”
Diane took Detective Greenberg’s card from her purse, went to the telephone, and called a number. “Detective Greenburg, please.” She listened a moment. “Are you sure?…I see. Then could I speak to Detective Praegitzer?” There was another moment of silence. “Yes, thank you.” Diane slowly replaced the receiver.