The Zero Night

27

Rain poured from a dark sky as Stride returned to police headquarters. It was almost noon, and the search in the woods surrounding Datka Road and Fredenberg Lake had been underway for several hours. There were dozens of square miles to cover in wet, dense conditions that made it hard for dogs to pick up the scent of a body. He suspected they would be at it until nightfall.

As he got out of his Expedition, he noticed a black Mercedes on the far side of the lot. It was parked on a slant, taking up two spots. This was no ordinary Mercedes. Stride recognized the sleek AMG GT model, which was priced at well over a hundred thousand dollars and definitely wasn’t a fixture on Duluth streets. The personalized Minnesota license plate read nights. His eyes narrowed with curiosity as he studied the car through the heavy rain, and as he started walking toward it, the vehicle flashed its headlights at him like a greeting.

The passenger door clicked open as he approached the car. He shook off as much rain as he could from his clothes, then climbed inside and pulled the door shut. On the other side of the front seat, Broadway sat behind the wheel. He was dressed in a similarly trendy suit to the first time they’d met, this time in royal blue instead of plum. His close-shaved chin came to a sharp point. He wore sunglasses, but he took them off as Stride joined him, and Stride could see that the man’s eyes were a honey shade of golden brown.

“Jonathan. Hello.” His boyish voice, and the lightness of his eyes, made the man appear even younger than he was.

“Broadway,” Stride said. “It’s not game night, is it? What are you doing in town?”

“I have other business. I come and go a lot.”

Stride ran his fingers along the car’s leather seat, which had a rich, buttery feel. “Sorry to be getting your interior wet. It looks expensive.”

“It is, but don’t worry about that. Do you like the car? Some people don’t think that a Mercedes can be cool, but they haven’t driven the GT.”

“It’s impressive. Maybe I’ll get one when I win the Powerball.”

Broadway gave him the faintest smile.

“I noticed the license plate, too,” Stride went on. “‘Nights on Broadway’? Are you a Bee Gees fan?”

“It’s Barry’s world, and we’re all just living in it,” the man replied.

“You know I’ll be looking up the registration as soon as I’m inside the building.”

“Naturally. You won’t find anything helpful, though. The car is registered to one of my companies. Actually, when you learn more about my identity, you’ll be disappointed. I’m just a businessman.”

“A thirtysomething businessman who runs an illegal gambling operation and drives around in a hundred-thousand-dollar car,” Stride said.

Broadway’s eyebrows flicked playfully. “The Stealth Edition is north of one hundred and twenty-five thousand, actually.”

“But no chauffeur? No security guard? I’m surprised you’re driving yourself.”

“Gavin said you wanted to talk, and I assumed you wanted a private meeting,” Broadway said.

“You’re right.”

“Well, here I am. Are you any closer to finding Chelsey?”

“She’s still missing,” Stride replied.

“That’s very sad. And yet I understand you have a major search operation underway in the woods north of the city.”

“How did you hear that?”

Broadway shrugged. “My police sources tend to be pretty reliable. I gather you’re looking for a body?”

“No comment.”

“Of course not. Well, on one hand, I want your search to be successful, so Gavin has some kind of closure. Then again, as long as you don’t find Chelsey, there’s still hope.”

“Did you tell Gavin about the search?” Stride asked.

“No, I figured I would leave that to you. He’s bound to take it as bad news. For what it’s worth, he still appears to be genuinely shocked by his wife’s disappearance. I like to think I have something of a knack for knowing when people aren’t being sincere. Then again, I respect your judgment, too. If you consider him a suspect, I have to take that seriously.”

“Who told you that he’s a suspect?” Stride asked.

“Common sense would be enough, but actually, he told me that himself. He’s a lawyer, so he knows how the game is played. You were bound to treat him as a suspect. It’s an old story, isn’t it? Husbands kill wives, and wives kill husbands.”

“What about you? Are you married?”

“I’m not. Too busy to settle down.”

“Have you ever met Chelsey Webster?”

Broadway played with the buttons on his cuff while he formulated an answer. “In fact, I have. She and Gavin were at the NorShor. I bumped into the two of them before a show. What an extraordinary restoration they did with that venue, don’t you think? Chelsey and I had a lovely chat. Arts, city politics, climate change, whiskey. She has a very agile mind and a wicked sense of humor. Extremely attractive, too. I’d be hard-pressed to think Gavin would have much interest in trading her in for a younger model. In fact, I’d say he’s the lucky one in that marriage. I was with a beautiful young woman myself that night, but I admit, Chelsey made me forget all about her while we were together.”

“Did Chelsey know who you were?” Stride asked.

“You mean did she know about my... relationship... with Gavin? No. Then again, I’m not exactly one of his typical clients, am I?” Broadway slipped a phone from inside his suit coat pocket, scrolled through a few text messages, and then replaced it. When he was done, he gave Stride another dimpled smile. “Anyway, you asked for this meeting, Jonathan. What would you like to talk about? I’ll help if I can.”

“Hink Miller,” Stride said.

“Yes, Gavin told me that he may have had a hand in the abduction. That’s very disturbing.”

“Did he work for you at the poker games?”

“Hink was in my employ for a while as an independent contractor,” Broadway replied carefully. “But I terminated him some time ago.”

“Why?”

“I believe I mentioned that a criminal record is typically disqualifying for working with me. I run a clean ship. Hink was arrested for assault last year. I believe you know about that incident. Gavin helped put the legal issues to bed, but I grew uncomfortable with Hink remaining in my employ.”

“Is it possible he held a grudge?” Stride asked. “Against you or against Gavin?”

“Anything’s possible, but Hink walked away with a sizable separation bonus. I find that keeps ex-employees in line.”

“Did Hink know about Gavin’s inheritance?”

“I have no idea. However, Gavin’s financial turnaround happened very recently, as you know. Hink was long gone by then.”

“How did you happen to hire him? Who sent him to you?”

“He came via a mutual friend of ours,” Broadway replied with a smile.

Stride rolled his eyes. “Curt Dickes?”

“Precisely.”

“If you employ Curt, then you’re not so religious about turning away people with criminal records.”

“I don’t employ Curt. He’s more of a consultant. A headhunter, if you will.”

“Supplying girls?” Stride asked. “If your games include prostitution, you’re not going to like how this all turns out for you.”

“I assure you, I’m not involved in prostitution in any way,” Broadway replied, looking mildly offended at the idea. “That doesn’t mean I don’t dress up my parties with attractive people. I do. But those are two very different things.”

Stride sighed. Broadway was like sand slipping through fingers. “Can you tell me anything more about Hink? Do you know whether he has ties to anyone else in your... enterprise? Obviously, someone murdered him and his mother, so we want to know if he had an accomplice.”

“I understand. And no, I have no names for you right now, but I’ll keep looking. I told you I would audit my people, and I’m serious about that. However, it takes time to find connections. Now, can I help in any other way?”

“The ransom,” Stride said.

“What about it?”

“You were helpful in telling us about the hundred-dollar bills. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” Broadway replied.

“But now I need to know, did you really give Gavin one hundred thousand dollars in cash? Because we only found a fraction of that amount at Hink’s place. I need to know if Gavin lied to us.”

Broadway tapped the steering wheel as if he were counting off the seconds on a clock. “May we speak off the record again?”

“For now,” Stride agreed.

“All right. The truth. Gavin didn’t lie to you. He came to me saying he needed ransom money, and I gave him one hundred thousand dollars in cash. All in hundred-dollar bills. In return for an appropriate fee, of course.”

“When?” Stride asked.

“What?”

“When did he come to you for the money?”

“I believe it was close to midnight last Tuesday.”

“And not before?”

“No.” Broadway gave Stride a knowing look. “That doesn’t sound like the answer you wanted.”

“We’ve heard that Gavin had hundreds in his wallet a couple of days before the ransom demand,” Stride said. “So we wondered...”

“Whether the kidnapping was staged? Well, I can’t tell you anything about that, Jonathan. Gavin is a smart man, so if anyone could pull off something like this, he could. Although again, I really don’t know why he would. Inherited assets aren’t marital property, as you know. But the hundreds in his possession are no mystery. He had one of his rare winning streaks at the games on Friday.” Broadway added again, “Off the record.”

Stride frowned.

They were done; there was nothing more to ask. He got out of the car, shut the door, and heard the Mercedes’s engine purr to life. As Broadway drove away, Stride stood in the parking lot and let the afternoon rain pour over his head. Now that he was back on the job, he couldn’t escape that old frustration. Sometimes the more he dug into a case, the further he got from the truth.

He’d thought that he had finally found a flaw in the kidnapping scheme.

He’d thought that he finally had Gavin Webster on the ropes, but the man had managed to slip away again. Every question had an answer.

They still had no way of proving he’d killed his wife.

Unless he was what he said he was. Innocent.