The Wrong Man: A Novel of Suspense (16 page)

“Did you know Matt was coming to Miami?” she asked.

“Yes. I switched to a cheap hotel after the break-in and when we spoke on Friday, he volunteered to fly down and meet me so we could strategize. He said he’d be staying at a friend’s—someone who was out of town—so he’d be under the radar as well. By then I’d checked the pen and realized you’d taken mine. I felt like a fool telling Matt you’d absconded with the flash drive. But at least he had access to the system at the firm, and I could help him duplicate my efforts.”

“What could you possibly think I wanted with the flash drive?”

“I figured the break-in had been round two of Ithaka trying to get their hands on any evidence I had in my possession, and that you had been round one. Though what I couldn’t understand was how you knew the flash drive was hidden in the pen because I’d kept that detail to myself. Needless to say, I was flabbergasted when I heard you’d shown up for the dinner. Neither Matt nor I could guess what your game was.”

“Did you ever see Healy in Miami?”

“No. He was supposed to come by my place. When he never showed, I was in a panic wondering what had happened. He didn’t answer his phone. The next day I heard that a man fitting his description had been killed. I was almost positive it had to be him.”

If he was telling the truth, he had no idea that Matt Healy might have betrayed him.

“And you think his death could be related to all this?”

“Yes,” he said solemnly. “Yes I do. And now I’ve shared plenty. You said you had stuff to tell
me
.”

“Just one more question. When you finally talked to Healy, what did he reveal about the encounter with me?”

“Since he hadn’t heard from me in a few days, he was worried something had happened. Said he realized the person you’d met must have been me and that there might be a message he was supposed to interpret from your visit, but couldn’t decipher what it was. And that he’d tried to make it all seem like a bad misunderstanding.”

She shook her head.

“That’s not what happened. Healy told me his wallet had been stolen and the person I’d met in the Keys was probably the pickpocket.”

Kelman frowned. “Maybe that was the first story he could think of. Don’t forget, he had no idea why you’d shown up.”

“But then explain
this
to me. Healy had me go in to Ithaka and tell both Mitch Wainwright and the head of security the whole story.”

“That doesn’t make any freaking sense,” he said, taken aback. “Why would he open a huge can of worms that way? That was practically confirming to Wainwright that I was up to something.”

“I have to ask you, Garrett.” It was the first time, she realized, that she’d said his real name. “Are you sure Matt Healy didn’t turn on you?”

He brought his fist up and held it to his mouth. Either truly perturbed by the revelation—or just brilliantly pretending to be.

“It’s hard to imagine,” he said. “But what you just told me—it’s disturbing,” he said.

“The SEC will have to know about this, too. I take it you’ve talked to them now that you have the flash drive again.”

He took the last swig of his beer and set the mug down.

“No, not yet.”

Kit looked at him, stunned.

“But what are you waiting for?” she demanded. “They need to be informed, and so do the cops. Both the ones here and in Miami.”

“In light of how complicated the situation’s become—especially with Matt’s death—I’m working out a slightly different strategy with my attorney.”

And what could
that
mean? she wondered. Delaying seemed utterly crazy to her. It would only increase her vulnerability and his as well. She needed time to think, to determine if what he was telling her was true—and how to convince him to drag his butt to the authorities
now
.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. “I’m just going to use the restroom.”

The only bathroom was in the back of the restaurant, down a short, dark corridor. After peeing she washed her hands and then let the cold tap run, while she played back what Kelman had told her. His story, though overly complicated, might be true. From the little she’d read about insider trading cases, she’d learned that they
were
complex, and the stakes were very, very high. And yet Kelman might be spinning yet another tale for her. In the past few weeks she’d been fed bullshit stories about former tech businesses, stolen wallets, and business trips to Palm Beach, and she knew now that the words counted for next to nothing.

She looked in the mirror and saw that her face was flushed, in large part because of how agitated she felt. If Kelman’s story was true, and Ithaka had broken into his Miami rental, it meant they’d probably broken into her place as well. And they may have killed Matt Healy. She was now in more danger than she’d ever imagined. She had to convince Kelman to move faster. It was time to tell him about her trip to the Miami police because
learning that he was a person of interest in a homicide might light a fire under him.

She ran a paper towel under the stream of cold water and dabbed at her face.

A woman was waiting for the bathroom when Kit emerged into the narrow corridor. She eased by the stranger and turned the corner into the main part of the restaurant. And then she halted, perplexed. Garrett Kelman wasn’t at the table. She spun outward, scanning the room. There was no sign of him anywhere. The men’s room? she wondered. But there was just the one bathroom.

She hurried to the table. Her wineglass was still at her place, and Garrett’s empty beer mug was just across from it. And in the middle of the table, tossed down as if in a rush, were three ten-dollar bills.

He was gone.

He’s played me again, she thought furiously. How could she have been so incredibly stupid to fall for it again?

Staring at the tabletop, she tried to process what had just happened. Clearly Kelman’s only motive for meeting her had been to tap into whatever details she was privy to. He’d offered up the story about illegal trading as a warm-up, to entice her into talking, and then once he learned what Healy had done, he bolted.

For a moment her gaze lingered on the clump of ten-dollar bills. Thank God for small favors, she thought mockingly. At least he hadn’t stiffed her with the check.

“Will there be anything else?” a voice from behind her inquired. She turned to see the waitress eyeing the scene quizzically. Kit realized that the woman probably assumed there’d been a lovers’ spat and Kelman had stormed off.

“No, nothing else. But—can you tell me? Did the man I was with say anything before he left?”

“He didn’t even ask for the check. I just saw him toss the money onto the table and then he took off in a rush.”

Kit muttered thank you and wiggled back into her slicker. Out on the street she punched her hands into her pockets and
looked over the street, over the faces of passersby and into the dark slivers between buildings. What was she supposed to do
now
? she wondered. Call the police? The update she could offer O’Callaghan would sound even more absurd than the one she could have presented Sunday. “You know that mystery man, the one who I thought broke into my apartment? I decided to have a drink with him and he kind of stood me up again. I’m now two for two.”

She started off for home, walking at a clip, checking behind her every few moments. It had stopped drizzling, but the air was still misty, almost cottony.

And then, as she passed in front of a row of shops closed for the night, a hand grabbed her arm, like an attack dog rocketing from the darkness, and yanked her into a doorway. She started to scream but the other hand clamped down on her mouth. She struggled, thrusting an elbow toward her assailant and trying desperately to free herself.

“Kit, shhh, it’s me,” a male voice whispered hoarsely. She twisted her head around. It was Kelman. He lowered his hand from her mouth and brought a finger to his lips, urging her to be quiet.

“What are you
doing
?” she demanded, her voice low.

“While you were in the restroom, I noticed someone suspicious come into the restaurant. I didn’t want him to see me with you.”

“Someone from Ithaka?”

“No. It was a guy I could have sworn I’d seen on the subway when I came down earlier from the Upper West Side. I slipped into a doorway and watched, and he ended up leaving the restaurant right after me.”

Was it the truth? she wondered. That was the question she had to ask herself constantly when she spoke to Kelman.

He slumped his shoulders wearily. “I don’t know, maybe I’m just so edgy from this whole thing, I overreacted. Why don’t we head someplace else? We need to talk more.”

“Where?” She hoped he wasn’t going to say back to her apartment because that was the last place she would ever go with him.

“Let’s find another bar.”

For a moment she hesitated, wondering if it was a trap. But the street was still busy with people and as long as she stayed in public with him, she wouldn’t feel vulnerable. Besides, there were more answers she needed. And most of all, she had to convince him to go to the authorities without further delay.

After shooting glances up and down the street, he took her arm, stepped from the doorway, and began to lead her west, in the opposite direction from both Jacques and her apartment. At Mott they turned left. She didn’t like the way he still had his hand on her arm, as if he’d taken temporary ownership, and she was about to tug it away. But as if sensing her thoughts, he dropped it.

They headed south in silence, the only sound their footfalls on the slick, glistening pavement. Two or three times Kelman checked behind them. Once, she looked back, too. No furtive strangers. Just neighborhood types and a few obvious tourists.

“Why don’t we duck in here?” he said when a small dive bar appeared on the right. She nodded, seeing that there were at least a dozen people inside. He swung open the door for her and took one last look down the street as they entered. After sliding into a booth, he flagged down a waiter. Kelman ordered another beer, and this time she asked for a club soda.

“Kit, I have to know more about that night you met Healy,” Kelman said after the waiter moved away. “The things he told you. Clearly something isn’t right.”

She looked off, thinking. What if, as she’d surmised earlier, he wanted to know about Healy because they’d been involved in a crime together and he was now facing the ugly truth that Healy had betrayed him? And even if Kelman was being honest about everything, where was all this talk really getting her?

“What is it?” he asked.

“When you were at my apartment, you said you had information that could
help
me. But so far all I’ve learned is that you’ve dragged me into even more trouble than I imagined. And you don’t even have plans to go to the authorities yet.”

“I didn’t say that. I said I was working out a strategy. In fact, that’s the reason I was late tonight. I met with a lawyer, and the plan is for me to come forward by the end of the week.”

She stayed silent, still deciding. Her tidbits of information were bargaining chips, and it seemed stupid to cash them all in now.

Kelman leaned toward her across the table. “Please, Kit. I need your help. If Matt was on the wrong side, I have to share that with the authorities. And in the end that
will
help you.”

She didn’t trust him. But at that moment, the advantages of telling him seemed to outweigh those of withholding what she knew.

“Okay,” she said finally.

She saw his body relax, some of the tension drain from his face.

“When I first showed up at Healy’s, he seemed almost amused,” she said, “as if I was just some damsel in dating distress. But as soon as I told him I’d met this other Matt Healy in Florida, he became alarmed, and that’s when he offered up the wallet story. I suppose there’s a chance it was the first thing he could think of. After all, he hadn’t heard from you, didn’t know why I’d suddenly popped up on his doorstep. But then he went into elaborate
detail about being pickpocketed. And he said it was essential that I share my experience with his security chief at work.”

Kelman raked a hand through his cropped red hair, clearly shaken. “He never said a word to me about fabricating that kind of story. He told me he just sent you away, telling you he knew nothing about why there’d been a mix-up.”

“How did you finally get hold of him?” she asked. There were parts of the story that still weren’t making sense to her. “You said you didn’t have his cell number.”

“I managed to make contact through the Ithaka office. I didn’t want to phone Matt myself because I knew his assistant would recognize my voice and might tip off someone on the staff about it. So I convinced this woman on the beach to do it with my disposable phone. She left a message for Healy to call back on that number. I had her use a phrase he would recognize, and he phoned about thirty minutes later.”

“When you spoke to him, why not ask for my contact info.”

“I did. He said you refused to even give him your name. . . . Tell me about the meeting at Ithaka.”

“I met with Ungaro first. He wanted to know all about the Florida mystery man I’d been with. In hindsight it seems he must have surmised, from the description I gave, that it could be you I was talking about. Or Healy told him.”

“And Healy was in the meeting, too?”

“No. I’d assumed he would be, but when I arrived at the office he explained that he was headed out of town—to see you as it turns out. I met with Ungaro alone, and Wainwright stopped by just as we were finishing. And then they pressured me into coming in a second time, after Healy was killed.”

“Why?”

“Wainwright presented it as if they wanted to make sure that justice was done, that they needed to be totally in the loop about Healy’s death.”

Kelman’s shoulders sagged. If he was lying to her tonight, he was doing a pretty good job disguising it.

“It does sound like Healy turned on me,” he said. “Whether he was in on the illegal trades himself or just trying to prove to Wainwright that he was fully on his team, he clearly wanted to expose me, otherwise why have you go in there? Christ, he probably even tipped them off to where I was staying in Miami. And that would also explain why
your
place was broken into. Matt must have told them I thought you’d taken the flash drive.”

“And that explains why Wainwright wanted to see me another time. He was probably hoping to get a better read on me.”

“Exactly.”

“If Healy was betraying you, why would he go through the ruse of flying to Miami to discuss a game plan?”

“Maybe to learn more about what I thought your game was. Or to convince me to delay a meeting with the SEC, which would buy more time for Ithaka.”

“Does Ithaka have clients in the Miami or Palm Beach area?”

He narrowed his eyes. “No. Why do you ask?”

He didn’t need to know her reason. But his answer revealed that Wainwright had definitely lied to her and that the revelation from Sasha Glen was probably accurate.

“Just curious. Since Healy had to cancel his plans and head to Florida, I wondered if he’d tried to kill two birds with one stone.”

“What do you mean, change his plans?”

“He apparently had intended to fly to Ann Arbor on business Friday. But he aborted that trip after hearing from you.”

Kelman’s mouth parted in surprise and he reached out across the table, laying his hand on Kit’s arm. She felt her body tense in response.

“
What
did you say?”

“That he changed his itinerary after talking to you.”

“No, about Ann Arbor.”

“That’s where I heard he was originally headed.”

Kelman clenched a fist and tapped it against his mouth. His mind seemed to be racing, trying to make pieces fit.

“What?” she asked.

“You know who’s in Ann Arbor?” he said.

“No.”

“The member of the advisory board who Kennelly corrupted. He’s a professor emeritus with the university. So I bet Matt
was
part of the illegal trading scheme.”

He looked stricken by the revelation. Betrayed by someone he trusted and also played for a fool. But had it been one thief against another? She still didn’t know.

“So who ran over Healy?” she asked. “His death has been ruled a homicide.”

“It has to be someone from Ithaka—or hired by them.”

“But why? Whether he was in on the illegal trades or he just wanted to cover his ass by letting Wainwright know you were blowing the whistle, there’d be no reason to murder him.”

Kelman ran a thumb over the lip of his beer bottle, thinking.

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “They may have wanted one less player in the mix. Or maybe I was the one who was supposed to die. Healy and I had vaguely similar coloring, and if someone was hired to take him out using a photo, he might have been mistaken for me.”

Yes, she knew all about that kind of confusion.

“Frankly, I’m mystified they’d go this far,” he added, flipping his palms over. “Trying to steal the flash drive is one thing, but murder is a whole other ballgame. There’ve been a lot of these insider trading cases and as far as I know, they don’t come to violence. The bad guys are so cocksure of themselves, they assume that even if someone blows the whistle, they’ll manage to weasel out of trouble.”

“Of course,” she said quietly, her heart starting to pound, “there’s someone
else
with a motive for killing Healy. Someone besides the people at Ithaka.”

She had to get it on the table, see how he’d react.

“Who?” he asked.

“You.” Her voice was just a whisper now. “Maybe you discovered Healy had betrayed you. You could have told him to meet you on the street in Miami and waited in your car, ready to mow him down.”

His body went totally still and all the expression drained from his face. He stared at her, pinning her eyes so tightly with his that it almost hurt. She would have liked to tear her gaze away but she didn’t. She needed to read him, find a tell of his that would help reveal where truth ended and lies began.

“Is that what you believe, Kit?” he asked, his voice disarmingly soft. “That I’m a cold-blooded killer? That you went to bed with someone who murdered a friend a few days later?”

His eyes never left hers as he spoke. But she knew that didn’t mean anything, not with Kelman. He was the master of looking at you and not letting go, and she assumed he could do that whether he was being honest or lying through his teeth.

“I didn’t say I believe it. I said it was a possibility. . . .
Did
you kill him?”

He stared for a few moments more. In the dim light, his blue eyes were now the color of slate.