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CHAPTER
77
DEVINE GOT MYERS’S HOME ADDRESS from the company database he had previously hacked into. He lived on Staten Island. They cabbed over, and Devine had the driver drop them off about a block from the house. It was situated in a neighborhood of working-class homes.
“He’s got a new ride,” said Devine, eyeing the silver Ford F-150 pickup truck in the driveway with temporary tags. “Wonder where he got the money for that?”
“I doubt he’ll volunteer it,” said Montgomery.
“I can be persuasive.”
They knocked on the door, but no one answered. They looked in the small backyard. It was empty except for an old pickup truck up on cinder blocks. There was a one-car garage, but the doors were locked. Devine peered in the window but didn’t see anything helpful.
“Maybe he has another car,” said Montgomery.
“Maybe, but I doubt it. He’s not married and lives alone, the security guard at Cowl told me.”
“Can I help you?” the voice said.
They looked around to see a woman standing on the front porch of the house next door. She had on leggings and a long T-shirt. She was in her twenties with a baby riding on one hip.
“We were looking for Jerry,” said Devine. “We were supposed to meet for a beer, but he didn’t show.”
She gazed over at the house. “It’s funny. He was supposed to help my husband with a project we’re doing in the backyard. When he didn’t show up this morning we called and went over there, but it’s all locked up and Jerry didn’t answer his phone.”
“Does he have another car?”
“No, he bought that new Ford. It’s a beauty. A King Ranch model with lots of bells and whistles. My husband Barry says it musta cost around sixty thousand.”
“Wow,” said Devine.
“Yeah. He works at some big muckety-muck company in the city. Jerry said they gave out big bonuses to everybody.”
“But if this is his only ride, he must be inside. Do you think he’s sick or something?”
A large, beefy man came out onto the front porch.
The woman said, “Barry, these people were supposed to meet Jerry for a beer. But no one answered. Now I’m getting worried.”
Barry looked over at Myers’s house and the truck. He eyed Devine. “Should we call the cops?”
“Maybe we should check first. If he’s in there sleeping off a bender the cops will not be happy with us.”
“Good point. Jerry likes his beer for sure.”
He and Devine went up on Myers’s front porch, and Devine studied the door and the glass side panel.
“This is the easiest way.” He put his elbow through the glass, cleared out the shards, reached through, and undid the lock.
Barry opened the door and they stepped through.
“Hey, Jer, it’s Barry from next door. You okay—” Barry sucked in a breath and blanched.
“What the hell is that smell?”
Devine knew exactly what it was. “Go call the cops, Barry.”
“What?”
