AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And landline phone company.
“Oh God, I’m not hearing this conversation,” Bert murmured. “Can I get in the front seat?”
“Stop being a pansy, Bert, you defend murderers,” Sebastian snapped.
So now I have a full list of every call he made or received. Most were internal calls to various Templeton Group corporations, plus calls to law firms and other companies. And to his wife and son. But… there was one number that was an aberration. In fact, he called it minutes after he left your apartment.
“What was it?”
The personal mobile number of an estate planning lawyer – but he never called the main business.
“Oligivy Hasten and Schmidt,” Sebastian said.
No.
“Uh, yes. They read the will before his funeral,” Sebastian insisted. “I handled all the arrangements for Connor.”
No. A guy named John Koffitz. He’s headquartered in Manhattan at Koffitz Crane Berkley and Jones. But get this – according to his GPS coordinates, his cell phone has been in upstate New York since Mr. Templeton’s death.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
I don’t know.
“Maybe they were just friends,” Johnny suggested.
“Why wouldn’t he give his business to a friend, then?” I pointed out.
“Maybe Koffitz didn’t have enough expertise in handling estate planning as large as what the Templetons required,” Sebastian said.
Maybe. But considering that his will was handled by another firm, it’s a weird coincidence, by which I mean I don’t think it’s a coincidence at all.
“I’ll call him,” I promised.
“Did you get anything else?” Sebastian asked.
Not yet.
“But you had the file on Miranda you stole from my hard drive,” Sebastian said, his voice accusatory.
I was a liiiiiiiittle busy.
“Getting the limo driver’s location and finding an estate planning lawyer – that’s it?” he scoffed.
I know I’m awesome, but it DOES take a little while to scan and sort 900 million phone accounts.
Armin’s voice came over the speaker as the limo slowed to a crawl. “Um… Ms. Ross… are you sure about those GPS coordinates?”
“Are you sure about the coordinates?” I asked Eve.
Absolutely. They may be off by a tiny amount – phone GPS is a little wonky – but they should be accurate to within 100 yards.
“She’s sure,” I told Armin.
“Then… I guess we’re here,” Armin said.
The limo stopped, and all of us got out.
We were standing in an industrial neighborhood in New Jersey on the shore of the Hudson river.
The limo was pointed directly at a demolished pier – basically just a concrete ramp that jutted out over the water.
I looked around. There were a bunch of shady warehouses behind us, dotting the waterfront. “Where’s the GPS coordinates?”
Armin pointed. “Out there.”
He was pointing at the river.
We all stood speechless, staring out at the ugly brown water. Across the Hudson, the skyscrapers of Manhattan glinted brightly in the morning sun.
“I think I better call somebody,” Sebastian said. “Somebody with a diving suit.”
