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Monty chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain. But, okay, I suck at time management. Happy?”
“It’s a start. Now tell me you’ve made some progress on figuring out who Frederick’s killer was.”
The banter vanished. “Some. I had an interesting talk with Louise Chambers today. She’s a real barracuda, and an operator. Wanted to know if I could be objective about Frederick’s murder, since the two of you were involved.”
A long pause. “Was she asking because she wanted to know how deep that involvement ran, or because she thinks I killed him?”
“In my opinion? She was trying to tip the scales in her favor. It didn’t work. I’m staying in her face. I don’t trust her.”
“You think she killed Frederick?”
“I doubt it. But I’m not ready to write her off as a suspect. She was tight with Frederick. Now she’s sniffing around Blake. The whole thing smells rotten.” Monty contemplated his own words. “Did Frederick ever mention Louise?”
“Not to me. I knew they had some kind of relationship. But whether it was all business, or business and personal, I’m not sure.” Sally hesitated, and Monty could picture her forehead creasing in thought. “I keep reviewing the day before the fire in my mind. The drive up was pleasant; no red flags. Frederick was himself. But later, as the evening wore on, he got quieter, more pensive. I assumed it was a reaction to my ambivalence. On the other hand, maybe it was related to whoever ended up killing him.”
Monty couldn’t bite back his question. “What ambivalence?”
“Oh, come on, Pete.” A sigh. “I don’t need to spell it out for you. Being up at Lake Luzerne was a lot harder than I expected. I guess I’m not as mature as I gave myself credit for.”
“When it comes to Lake Luzerne, neither am I.”
There was a long silence.
“I’m going to turn in now,” Sally said at last. “I’ll call tomorrow. Hopefully, you’ll have made a breakthrough. The sooner I can get back to my life, the better.”
“I’ll bust my ass to make that happen.”
“I know you will.”
Monty’s grip tightened on the phone. “Good night, Sal.”
“Good night, Pete.”
He stared reflectively at the phone before punching it off. He wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon.
Then again, neither would Sally.
MONTY’S CELL PHONE rang.
He fumbled for the alarm clock on his night stand, and squinted at it. Three forty A.M. Shit.
It wasn’t the Bat Phone, so it wasn’t Sally. And Devon had checked in around two. So who the hell was it?
He snatched up the phone and punched it on. “Montgomery.”
“It’s Edward Pierson.” The older man’s voice was shaky. “He called.”
“Who did?”
“That son of a bitch who’s blackmailing me.”
Monty was suddenly and completely awake. “Tell me exactly what he said.”
“He told me to wire two million dollars to an account in the Cayman Islands. He gave me the number—and twenty-four hours. If I don’t come through, the people I care about will start getting hurt. The last part’s a direct quote.”
&nb
sp; “How did you respond?”
