Now and Then

19.

Epstein came nondescriptly into my office and sat in a client chair.

“Coffee?” I said.

“Yes.”

I took a clean coffee cup from my desk drawer and handed it to him and pointed at the coffeemaker on top of my file cabinet. Epstein got up and helped himself.

When he sat down again he said, “Three days ago the wife of one of my agents got shot to death in the parking lot of Concord College.”

I nodded.

“She used her maiden name, Jordan Richmond,” Epstein said.

“In her circles I think they say birth name, ” I said.

“In her circles there aren’t any maidens,” Epstein said.

“Another man, whom we can’t identify, was killed with her, and Ms. Richmond’s husband, Dennis Doherty, is missing.”

I nodded.

“Thing is,” Epstein said, “Ms. Richmond was killed with a Russian-made nine-millimeter which was found at the scene. The guy who was killed with her was done by a nine too, but not the same one.”

I nodded.

“The Russian piece had the dead guy’s fingerprints on it,”

Epstein said. “Powder residue on his right hand and forearm.”

“So he shot her,” I said.

“Probably.”

“Who shot him?” I said.

“Don’t know.”

“And you can’t ID the guy shot her?”

“Nope. No fingerprints in the system. No DNA in the system. Nothing on him. No driver’s license. Didn’t have a wallet. Didn’t have any money. No car. No subway tokens.”

“So how’d he get there?”

“Exactly,” Epstein said.

“And how was he going to get away?”

“We speculate somebody delivered him and was waiting to pick him up when something went wrong. So the pickup scooted.”

“Maybe he was the other shooter,” I said.

“Guy aces Ms. Richmond and his partner aces him?”

“They were pretty careful that he have no identity,” I said.

“We talked to everyone at the college who knew Ms. Richmond,” Epstein said.

“Good thinking,” I said.

“Seems she was keeping company with a guy named

Alderson.”

“Whoops,” I said.

Epstein sipped his coffee and waited.

“Okay,” I said. “Dennis Doherty hired me to find out if his wife was having an affair. She was. I told him.”

“And he believed you,” Epstein said.

“I had audiotapes of her and Alderson in, ah, flagrante.”

“And he believed those.”

“Yes.”

Epstein grimaced.

“He listened?”

“Yes.”

“Hard to hear,” Epstein said.

“It was,” I said.

“How did he react?”

“Like he’d been gutted, wanted to kill the guy.”

“Not his wife?”

“No,” I said. “He wouldn’t kill his wife.”

“Because?”

“He loved her.”

“Lotta guys kill the woman that cheated on them,” Epstein said.

“Not if they love them,” I said.

Epstein looked at me, thoughtfully. Then he shook his head slowly.

“You actually believe that,” he said.

“You don’t kill someone you love,” I said.

Epstein shrugged.

“Besides,” I said. “Looks like you know who killed the woman.”

“Doesn’t mean Doherty didn’t contract him.”

“You think he did?”

“No,” Epstein said. “Doherty was much too straight ahead. He was going to kill her he’d have done it himself.”

I nodded.

“He had it under control last time I saw him,” I said. “Said he wouldn’t kill the guy either. Said he wouldn’t let them flush his life.”

“You think it was real?” Epstein said.

“We talked about it. He’ll go to his grave wishing he’d put a couple into Alderson. But he’ll know he was right not to.”

Epstein gave me the long thoughtful look again, but he didn’t comment.

Instead, he said, “They been having trouble for long?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Or maybe they had, but he refused to know it.”

“So this would have come as a shock.”

“Yeah.”

“I gather you weren’t tailing the broad any longer,” Epstein said.

“No,” I said, “I wasn’t.”

“You give Dennis the audiotape you played for him?” Epstein said.

“Yes.”

“I don’t remember it being inventoried,” he said.

“You’ve tossed his place?”

“We’ve looked around,” Epstein said. “We’ll look again.”

He got up and went to the fi le cabinet and got more coffee.

“Got any thoughts on whether he got compromised?” Epstein said.

“Nothing I didn’t tell you at the Holiday Inn bar,” I said.

“Anything about Alderson?” Epstein said.

I shook my head.

“Wasn’t that interested in Alderson,” I said. “I was hired to be interested in Jordan Richmond.”

“You got any idea why she got killed?” Epstein said.

“No.”

“Or who the killer was?”

“No.”

“Or if somebody hired him?”

I shook my head just for a change of pace. It was as if Epstein was running down a checklist in his head.

“And if somebody did hire him,” Epstein said, “who that might be?”

“Nope.”

“Or where Dennis Doherty is?”

“Not a clue,” I said.

“Sadly,” Epstein said, “me either.”