Private Rogue

Chapter 35

Jessie had arranged for us to stay in an empty house outside Rye, Westchester County. The house belonged to the cousin of Dinah Palmer, one of Private New York’s detectives, who was on vacation in the Caribbean for the winter.

I left Beth and the children there with Jessie, and took the Nissan into the city to see the man who called himself Donald Singer. Justine had arranged for us to meet at Le Loup, an upmarket restaurant on the corner of Lafayette and Howard in Manhattan. I parked in a garage on Lispenard Street, four blocks away, and walked the frozen streets to the meeting. A north wind whipped down the manmade canyons. I hurried on, eager to get inside.

Le Loup was situated on the first floor of a twelve-story Art Deco building. It was one of the city’s top eateries, which made it a safe and public environment in which to meet someone potentially untrustworthy and dangerous. I stepped inside and was greeted by a blast of warm air infused with the smell of butter, onions, garlic and wine. Le Loup was known for its traditional French cuisine but the décor was very much Manhattan. The walls had been stripped back to the brick, which had been painted clinical white. The tables and chairs were constructed of recycled metal and distressed wood, and low-watt filament bulbs glowed like fireflies.

“Bienvenue chez Le Loup,” the hostess said. “Do you have a reservation?”

“I’m meeting Donald Singer,” I replied.

“This way, please, sir.”

I followed her through a crowded bar into the main dining room. The man posing as Singer was sitting at a table in the middle. If he knew I was wise to the deception, he gave no hint of it.

“Mr. Morgan,” he said.

As I took my seat, I checked out the people at the surrounding tables. None of them gave me a second glance, but there was a guy at the bar, linebacker in size, whose narrow eyes lingered on me a little too long. Singer’s muscle, perhaps?

“I was glad when your colleague phoned,” Singer said. “I’m very interested to hear what you’ve found so far. What would you like?”

“Water, please,” I told the hostess, who nodded and withdrew.

I studied Singer more closely than I had when we first met. There was a faint mark on his chin — a faded scar. Or could it be a careless blemish left by a plastic surgeon? His eyes had the false warmth of a politician’s and his smile seemed stuck on. Even his accent didn’t have the ring of authenticity that I recalled.

“I found Beth,” I said.

“That’s great news!” Singer replied, with hollow enthusiasm.

“Unfortunately, she ran off. Someone set the cops on my tail and it spooked her. We were at a hospital. She was injured escaping from people who were trying to abduct her. It was shortly after we left there that she took off.”

“Oh,” Singer remarked, deflated.

“She’s OK, by the way,” I added. “Your grandchildren too.”

“Good,” he replied. “That’s good.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Singer. You raised a very intelligent and resourceful woman.”

“That I did,” he said, nodding his head slowly. “Did you get much chance to speak to her? Did she give any indication why she was on the run?”

He wasn’t sure his cover had been blown.

“No,” I replied. “We didn’t get much chance to talk.” I paused for effect. “But one of my detectives did make an interesting discovery. Did you know Beth is married?”

The man pretending to be Donald Singer leaned forward conspiratorially.

“We’re not meant to talk about it. That’s why I didn’t tell you. It’s classified.”

“Joshua?” I asked.

He nodded. “How did you find out about my son-in-law?”

“My team are very good at uncovering information,” I replied. Now was the time to lay my bait. “We also learned he’s missing in action. The Pentagon are searching for him. According to my sources, they have a fix on his locator beacon.”

“That might explain why Beth vanished,” Singer suggested. “Something to do with whatever trouble Joshua finds himself in.”

“I think it does,” I agreed. “The people pursuing her are professional and highly dangerous. She is doing whatever it takes to get away from them.”

The hostess returned with my water, but I got to my feet as she put the glass on the table.

“Thank you,” I said.

She smiled.

“And thank you, Mr. Singer. I’m sorry to have let you down, but I can assure you it won’t happen again. Stay strong and I’ll be in touch as soon as I have any news.”

“If there’s anything I can do...” His voice trailed off.

“I’ll be sure to let you know,” I said, before heading for the exit.

I walked through the busy bar, wondering whether he would take the bait.