Part 11 Questions #5
This made sense since she was, after all, King’s wife.
But the date stamps of her encounters were old.
I felt no sexual reaction at all watching my client have sex with Aristo King.
She was an objectively attractive woman by any standard, and while she seemed to enjoy the first two recorded encounters with her husband, she seemed to have little desire during the latter ones.
The last sex tape featuring Yasmina was from over a year ago.
I recalled her saying she rarely went to the penthouse at 59West anymore.
The second repeat player was also someone I knew of.
Madison Barnes, the nanny.
Most of her visits with Aristo King occurred in the daytime.
And the date stamps were both old and recent.
Indeed, the recent ones had occurred within the last few weeks. One had even occurred on December 19th, only two days before the events of December 21st.
Even after Maddie had had a son with King five years ago, she still popped up to his apartment to have the odd booty call with him.
She was in six videos.
I blinked in surprise when I first saw the third multiple partner.
It was Mia Kimura.
King’s executive assistant.
The petite Asian-American woman shouted loudly as she sat astride him, her small breasts bouncing with her vigorous sexual exertions.
On two occasions when they’d had sex, it had been during the day and she was still wearing her chic skirt suit and heels. King had just hiked up her skirt to her hips.
She was in four videos, all recent.
We came to the last four videos.
And I reared back in complete surprise when I saw the same woman in all of them having spirited sex, both in the middle of the day and late at night, with Aristo King.
It was his first wife, Winnie Tan.
‘Can you pause it, please?’ I said.
Monty paused the clip, freezing it on a still image of Winnie Tan, naked and astride Aristo King, her head thrown back in orgasmic delight.
‘King reconnected with his first wife?’ I said.
‘Reconnected? Jesus, dude, the two of them fuck like college kids.’
‘Daytime and night,’ I said. ‘Like lovers slipping away at any opportunity they get . . .’
I checked all four date stamps.
These trysts were recent.
The last one had been on November 28th.
‘Look at her abs, man.’ Monty whistled. ‘That woman is fine. I looked her up. You should see the old photos. She was chubby and mousy back in the day. Coke-bottle glasses. Now, she’s late 50s, probably had laser eye surgery and has got in shape and all I can say is, damn, Winnie turned herself into a cougar mama. ’
I was thinking about something else.
Specifically, that Yasmina Ivanova and Winnie Tan had never met before December 21st.
Not even once.
But this was a link between them, and a current one, too.
I needed to speak with Winnie Tan.
At that precise moment, my burner phone rang.
It was Georgy, Yasmina’s lawyer.
‘Dr Sam,’ he said. ‘I have problem and need your help.’
What could this be? I thought.
‘Ms Yasmina, she is being sued by Sinclair & Loewe.’
It took me a moment to recall what Sinclair & Loewe was.
It was the insurance company. The insurance company with whom Aristo King had his Kidnapping & Ransom policy.
The insurance company whose representative, Quinn McCade, had been at 59West on December 21st handling the ransom demands, some of which—astonishingly—he’d denied.
Georgy went on. ‘It is long and complicated story, but Mr Aristo King is suing Sinclair & Loewe for not paying ransoms on December 21st, which has caused Sinclair & Loewe to countersue him and also to sue Yasmina.’
‘Why would they sue her?’ I asked. That seemed entirely unnecessary.
Georgy said, ‘On December 21st, when it became known that Aristo King had been kidnapped, Yasmina called Sinclair & Loewe, as Aristo had instructed her to do if he were ever kidnapped.
He even gave her the direct number for their Kidnapping & Ransom Department to keep in her purse for such an eventuality.
‘Yasmina insists she called them using that number. But Sinclair & Loewe claim that they never received any call from Yasmina on December 21st.’
I shook my head. ‘But, of course, they did. I mean, their man was at 59West on December 21st. I met him. His name was Quinn McCade—’
As soon as I said those words, something clicked in my mind.
Yasmina had insisted she’d called the insurance company.
But Sinclair & Loewe said they’d never received any call.
Yet a man named Quinn McCade from Sinclair & Loewe had turned up at 59West.
No . . .
Could McCade have been . . .?
As my mind turned, Georgy said, ‘Yasmina, she met this man, too, this Mr McCade. He was the one who refused to pay some of the ransoms. I am to go to Sinclair & Loewe’s offices downtown tomorrow morning and I was hoping you would go with me as witness from that day to help me deal with this Mr McCade. ’
‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘Where are their offices?’
‘Freedom Tower, 67th floor,’ Georgy said. ‘Nine o’clock.’
‘I’ll be there,’ I said.
I hung up.
‘Hey, Monty,’ I said. ‘Do you mind if I bunk down here again? This is the safest place in town for me.’
‘Sure, dude.’