Chapter 14 Helena
“Can I get you some more coffee?”
I looked up into the server’s smiling face.
She’d asked me five times in the last three hours—that was how long I’d been sitting in the window of the café, glancing at my laptop now and again while keeping an eye on the building opposite.
It was Jessiah Coldwell’s building, which I’d discovered without much difficulty.
The whole city seemed to know that he’d moved into his brother’s old apartment after he came back—I didn’t even need Malia to tap into the NYPD database to tell me that.
I’d been to the loft two or three times with Valerie when Adam had lived there, so I didn’t have any trouble finding the street. That, however, was the easy part.
It was late afternoon, and after spending the morning in class, I’d taken up position here.
Okay, I’d checked for Jessiah’s name on the door first to make sure he did actually live there—and pressed the button to make sure he was in.
When the buzzer sounded, I made myself scarce, retreating to the café to wait for inspiration as to how I was going to get inside the apartment and look for the notebook without Jessiah knowing.
So far without success. I could pick a lock, thanks to the lessons I’d had in England, but I knew the apartment had a sophisticated security system—the alarm had gone off for no reason once during a party, Adam rolling his eyes at his mother’s insistence on installing it.
No, I could forget that. My plan would only work if Jessiah was at home.
But his inviting me in to let me look through Adam’s stuff was only going to happen in a parallel universe.
“Another?” the server asked again, taking my empty mug from the table.
“I think I should probably switch to tea,” I replied finally. I was already so nervous, and all the caffeine I’d drunk over the last few hours wasn’t helping me relax. “Something calming, if you’ve got it.”
“No problem.” She gave a grin, gesturing to my laptop, where I had an essay from Cambridge open as part of my cover. “Midterms are a killer, aren’t they?”
“Oh yeah,” I laughed, semi-convincingly. “Totally. Hence my working here today, I was getting cabin fever and had to get out of my apartment.”
“I hear you. Okay, let me go see if I have something to calm the nerves.”
“Thanks.” I flashed her a smile, and she left.
I fixed my gaze again on the door of the building across the street, watching for Jessiah.
I couldn’t sit here forever. My parents were hosting a dinner for Paige’s family tonight and were expecting me home at seven o’clock sharp.
I had two hours, tops, to get this thing done, and I still had no idea how to go about it.
Should I just come back tomorrow? The thought was tempting, but I had no time to lose.
I wasn’t getting anywhere without that notebook.
“Here’s your tea. A blend of lime blossom and lemon balm.
If that doesn’t chill you out, the only other thing I can suggest is a blow to the head.
” The server laughed, and I joined in. Maybe I could just knock Jessiah out and pretend it was a break-in?
Okay, you’re actually going crazy at this point.
“Hey, can I ask”—evidently, I was now desperate enough to ask total strangers for advice—“if there was a guy you were having issues with, and he had something you wanted… how would you go about getting it?”
“What happened with the guy?” she asked.
“Well… there’s kind of some history there. We had an argument, he provoked me, and I said something hurtful.” Something very hurtful, which I now really regretted. Even though I couldn’t stand the guy.
The server shrugged. “Have you tried apologizing?”
“Apologizing?” I echoed.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “My mom always says the ability to say sorry is the best quality in a person. Oftentimes even just admitting you did something stupid is enough.”
Two other customers were waiting to pay, so she left me alone with her words, which in hindsight seemed to resonate.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I could apologize to Jessiah, and if he accepted my apology, he’d invite me in.
Then all I needed was to find a way to get two minutes alone to look for the notebook.
If he could be lured outside, it might work. I just needed a diversion.
Ideally, an official one.
Suddenly, the plan started to take shape in my mind, as if all I’d had to do was clear that first hurdle. I got out my phone and called Malia. Her shift had to be over by now, so, without telling her what I was planning, I simply asked her to come help.
She turned up at the café shortly after and parked herself in the chair next to me. “I came as soon as I could. What’s the emergency?”
“The notebook,” I said.
“The notebook?” She looked quizzical. “You mean Adam’s notebook? The one Simon Foster told you about? Is that why you were asking about Jessiah’s address?”
“Yup.” I grinned. “You’re going to be a great detective, Malia.”
She gave me a shove on the arm. “Okay, so you’re going on the assumption that Adam’s things are in Jessiah’s apartment.”
“I’m hoping so. If he’s gotten rid of the bag of stuff—or, God forbid, given it to his mother—I have no chance of getting it.” And then I’d have to think of something else. “But maybe he kept it. I would have.”
Malia’s expression was skeptical yet endearing—it was a look she’d perfected with Valerie. Malia had always been the sensible one in their friendship, and she seemed to realize the tradition was continuing with me.
“Let me guess, I have some part to play in this plan of yours to get ahold of the book. What are you thinking?”
“I’m going to ring the buzzer,” I said, as convincingly as I could.
Malia frowned. “You’re going to ring the buzzer.”
“Exactly.”
“And then?”
“Jessiah and I will talk, or at least I hope we will. Then you’ll have to lure him out of the building.
” I continued quickly before she could say no.
“You could tell him he’s committing a parking violation, or something.
That would buy me a few minutes to look around the apartment.
I know my way around, so if the notebook’s there, I’m sure I’ll find it quickly. ”
The fondness in her expression vanished, leaving only doubt.
“Len, I’m a police officer. I can’t lure someone out of their own building under false pretenses.
And anyway, I don’t know if Jessiah even has a car, let alone what kind.
This is New York City.” I took her point—a lot of people in the city didn’t own a car.
Rich people usually did, though. And my gut told me that that was true of Jessiah, too.
“But you can find out, can’t you? Surely it’d just take a quick call to a colleague to check.” I gave her the best puppy-dog eyes I could muster.
She sighed. “Yes, I can. But your plan still isn’t going to work. Even if he does have a car, he’s a New Yorker—he’s not stupid enough to leave it in a no-parking zone. We need something else.” I saw cogs whirring behind her eyes and rejoiced inwardly. Malia would help me—I knew it.
Without another word, she picked up her phone and made a call, mentioning Jessiah’s name and explaining briefly what she wanted to know. She nodded several times at the response, and finally she hung up.
“It’s a black pickup, a Ford F-150,” she informed me. “It’s a very common model, but I’m sure there won’t be too many of them on this street.”
“He drives a pickup?” I stared at her in disbelief. I hadn’t expected that. Although perhaps it made sense. I couldn’t imagine a guy like Jessiah driving a Lamborghini, or a Maserati. Or even an Audi or Mercedes.
“Evidently.” Malia put her phone away. “Come on, let’s go and look for it.
Maybe we’ll get lucky and there’ll be some damage that I can use as a pretext to get him outside.
” I could have hugged her, but she fobbed me off.
“I’m not doing this in an official capacity, just so we’re clear. Not under any circumstances.”
“You don’t have to,” I said quickly. “If you can entice him outside as a concerned passerby, that’s more than enough.” I got the server’s attention and put my laptop away. I thanked her for the tip about apologizing as I paid, and then Malia and I left the café.
It was colder outside than it had been the last few days, and I zipped up my leather jacket.
“What are you actually hoping to gain from all this?” Malia asked as we walked down the street, keeping an eye out for the black pickup. “Do you think you’ll feel better if you find out the truth about Valerie?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. But I want justice for her. I want everyone else to understand why I miss her so much.”
“I miss her, too, Len.” Malia’s tone was soft. “I miss her so badly. But we already know she’s not to blame for her and Adam’s death. Isn’t that enough?”
“No,” I said. “It’s not enough. Valerie wasn’t perfect, for sure. But she was wonderful, and bighearted, and I won’t have her remembered as an irresponsible party girl who baited her boyfriend into taking lethally spiked cocaine.” I took a deep breath that burned my lungs. “I can’t do that.”
“Okay. I get that.” Malia gave my arm a brief rub. “But you have to—”
“There it is!” I interrupted her. The black pickup. “Are those the right plates?”
She nodded. She walked once around the car, murmuring a soft “Bingo” when she reached the back right fender.
I hurried over and saw a dent, along with a deep scratch. Someone had obviously damaged the car, and Jessiah hadn’t repaired it yet.
“I can use this. I’ll say I saw another driver bump the car when they pulled away and drove off. I’m sure I can buy you ten minutes.” Malia grinned. “Okay, now you’re up.”