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“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
Looking annoyed, the detective said, “I’m giving you an hour once your friend is inside. If he cangetinside.”
“My money’s on Luster,” Bree said, getting up and going to the tinted glass window at the back of the van.
She trained binoculars down the street toward the home of Frances Duchaine’s second in command, saw town cars and limousines disgorging guests. There seemed to be several types in this crowd—men in their twenties, men in their fifties, and women in their twenties.
Soon enough, Phillip Henry Luster in a chic black suit climbed from a town car; he was followed by a tall, lanky, tawny-haired man in his twenties. Blessed withGQlooks, he was dressed in gray high-water slacks, no socks, black shoes, and a blue blazer with a starched white shirt, collar open.
“Luster’s here with Brad Jenkins,” Bree told Salazar. “We should be picking his audio up any—”
The closed-band receiver squawked. Over the sound of the breeze and other voices, they heard Luster say, “After you, Brad.”
Bree made sure she was recording, returned to the rear window, and saw Luster and his date climb the stairs and disappear inside. The van was filled with the sounds of a cocktail party under way.
“My God, I didn’t think Paula had so many friends,” Luster said.
“Or enemies,” Jenkins said. “She believes in keeping them close.”
“Does she?”
“It’s why she agreed to let you be my date, Phillip.”
“Ha-ha.”
Bree noticed a limo pulling up outside. A man in white robes and an Arab kaffiyeh headdress climbed out with two men who looked like bodyguards.
“Middle Eastern heavy hitter going in,” Bree said.
Salazar rubbed her belly. “I’ve got a heavy hitter of my own right here.”
Over the receiver, Luster said, “Gin and tonic, please. And a Shirley Temple for my young friend.”
“You’re such an amusing ass, Phillip,” Jenkins said. “Sorry, make that an old-fashioned, please. A double.”
“A double?” Luster said. “Are you compensating for something, Brad?”
“Fortifying something,” his date said. “Victor says this night might make or break my career. Especially the after-party.”
“What after-party?” Bree said.
The NYPD detective sat forward to listen.
“What after-party?” Luster asked.
“I don’t know, but Victor said it’s supposed to be intimate. A chance to connect.”
“Like an orgy?”
“Oh God, I hope not,” Jenkins said. “I’m not up for that kind of scene on a Wednesday night.”
“Your drinks, gentlemen,” someone said.
“Bless you,” Jenkins said.
“Phillip?” A woman’s voice.
The sound of ice tinkling against the side of a glass came over the receiver before Luster said, “Oh, hello, Paula. Nice gathering for midweek.”
