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The office for Max Coby, Private Investigator, was small and unpretentious, sandwiched between a travel agency and a pet supply start-up. They stepped into a small dark waiting room. Eva fluffed her wet hair as she crossed the space to the receptionist’s desk, then peered behind the glass. “No one here,” she said.
Jack set his raincoat on a hook and looked for himself. “Hello?”
“Oh, hey there. I’ve been expecting you.” A low voice came from nowhere, speaking a mile-a-minute. “I’m just finishing up a few things. Always have a few things to finish it seems.”
A door opened, and a man with silver hair wearing a gray sweat suit came out. “You’re Jack?” he asked.
When Stella said that no one would mess with Max Coby, Jack had envisioned someone big, tough, and intimidating. The man in front of him was small, wiry, and grandfatherly.
He shook Jack’s hand with a firmer grip than expected and turned to Eva. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Eva. Come on back.”
He led them to an office that was positively overflowing with paper—on the walls, the chairs…every surface. As he slid behind his desk, nearly getting lost in the sea of paperwork, Jack turned to inspect the photos on his wall. It was crowded with pictures of Max with famous people, and articles about Max’s heroism. Apparently, Max had been NYPD during 9-11.
“You were at the Towers?” Jack asked, scanning the article. A younger version of the man was there with Mayor Giuliani, receiving an award.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah,” he said, waving it off humbly. “Had to retire right after that due to the ol’ lungs. That’s what brought me here. Been doing this for twelve years.”
Eva sat down on the chair that was offered to her and studied the pictures on his desk of smiling, pig-tailed kids and a golden retriever. She smiled. “Grandkids?”
He looked at the pictures and laughed. “Great grandkids. I’ve got two of them. They keep me young.” He laced his hands in front of him, getting down to business.
Jack opened his mouth, prepared to give him the run-down, when Max said, “I’ll get straight to the point. This is an interesting case. I usually leave the office by noon so I can have lunch with my wife in Jersey and get in a round of golf. I don’t often consent to staying any later than that, but let me tell you…this is interesting.”
Jack crossed his arms, doubtful. “How so?”
Eva piped up. “I’m sorry, I thought we were here for a consultation. I didn’t realize you’d already been told the facts surrounding the case.”
“Well, my dear. I don’t like to go into any meeting blind, so I did a little research, and I consulted some of the officers handling the break-in investigation.” He lifted a manila folder from the top of his pile and opened it. “I understand that the two of you are heavily invested in the Fiorini Group?”
Eva looked at Jack. They both nodded.
“Well, the thing that concerns me the most about the break-in is that it wasn’t done by a petty thief, that’s for certain.” He patted a heavy stack of papers in th
e file. “There are no signs of breaking and entering, so they’re pretty sure the intruder used a key to enter the apartment.”
“A key?” Eva shook her head. “But they couldn’t have. I’m the only one who has a key to my apartment. I’m sure of it.”
Jack rubbed at his five o’clock shadow. “Are you? No ex-boyfriends who might want to—”
“No,” she said certainly, arching a brow in Jack’s direction. “I’ve never given a boyfriend the key to my place.”
Max said, “The building owners have a key as well, I’m sure.”
“Well, of course,” Eva said, forehead wrinkling. “So what are you saying?”
Jack sighed. “He’s saying someone could have gotten access to their key somehow and made a copy. So it could be anyone.”
“Not necessarily.” Max lifted a hand. “They’ve been reviewing the tapes provided by the security company, and this is where it gets really interesting. That is some heavy duty security system you have, Miss.” He gave Eva a grandfatherly smile. “But the intruder bypassed it easily because he had the code.”
Eva’s jaw dropped. “What? But that’s not possible.” She held up her finger. “It’s a fingerprint scanner. And last I checked, I have all my fingers.”
“And the intruder set off the alarm,” Jack pointed out.
Max nodded. “I’ll get to that. But code, fingerprint, it doesn’t matter to these people. Likely, they picked up a print of yours somewhere, recreated it from ballistics gel, and mounted it onto a latex glove. There isn’t a security system out there that hackers can’t infiltrate with the right tools and know-how.”
Eva stared at Max in horror before shifting her gaze to Jack. “But the alarm…”
“He set off the alarm as he was leaving,” Max said. “On purpose, after he’d wandered all over your apartment, poking his nose in every nook and cranny. This guy wanted you to know that he’d been there. He wanted to scare you.”
