Page 130 of Perfect Strangers

‘Not everything. Just enough.’

‘How much is enough, Josh? Shouldn’t we tell her everything? She could help us.’

‘If Asner siphoned off some of the fund into a secret stash, then we need to find this money. Us. Not Andrea Sayer. Not any of the US government agencies.’

Sophie felt a flutter of panic.

‘Us? Why?’ she hissed. ‘We’re not going to keep the money . . . are we?’

‘Sophie, don’t be so bloody naïve. If Asner’s secret stash exists and the Feds get the money before we do, then we’re screwed. We’ll have zero leverage and that could be very bad for us.’

‘Leverage? What do we need leverage for?’

Josh looked impatient.

‘I hate to remind you, Sophie, but you’re a possible suspect in a murder inquiry. For all we know, you are the only suspect. We need to use whatever we’ve got to take the heat off you. The second the Feds have Asner’s booty, I guarantee they won’t give a shit about helping you or me, even if Nick’s death is linked to the Asner money. And once the press find out that your dad hid Asner’s siphoned cash, you and your family are going to be hung out to dry. Now come on, we’ve got to catch her before she leaves.’

Sophie followed Josh into the lift and watched as he pressed the button for the twenty-fifth floor. She could see the sense in what he said, but she still felt anxious and out of control.

Josh saw her biting her lip and gently touched her mouth with his thumb.

‘Don’t do that,’ he said softly. ‘You’ll ruin those lovely lips of yours.’

‘I wish I had your gift of the gab, Josh, but I don’t,’ she snapped, pushing his hand away. ‘And I don’t know what to say in there.’

Josh smiled. ‘Have confidence in yourself, princess. You’ll know what to say when we get up there because you always do. You’re a natural.’ She looked at him.

‘A natural con woman?’

‘No, Sophie,’ he laughed. ‘Just a natural.’

Sophie felt her stomach turn as the lift doors hissed open. For a moment she thought they must have stopped at the wrong floor. She had been expecting glass and chrome and big garish modern art on white walls, something befitting a media-friendly trial lawyer. This office looked like a dentist’s waiting room: slightly shabby carpet, an off-the-peg sofa and a wilting pot plant next to the tiny – and empty – receptionist’s desk.

‘Mr McCormack?’ said a woman walking out of an office towards them, her hand extended. ‘I’m Andrea Sayer.’

She was small and dark with a mass of curly hair and big tortoiseshell glasses. There was something vaguely chaotic about her, not the sort of person you would expect to be a trial lawyer in one of the biggest fraud operations of all time, thought Sophie.

‘It’s a good job I’m not the type to disappear to the Hamptons over the weekend,’ she said with a strong New York accent, showing them into her office. ‘Even my secretary’s gone for the weekend, so I can’t offer coffee, but at least we can talk undisturbed.’

They sat down and Sophie looked at Josh, but he just raised his eyebrows and inclined his head towards the lawyer. Sophie took a deep breath.

‘My name is Sophie Ellis,’ she said. To her surprise

, the woman did not react.

Okay, thought Sophie, so maybe they weren’t as wanted as she had thought.

‘Miriam Asner suggested we spoke to you.’

That got Sayer’s attention. The attorney sat forward, peering over the top of her glasses.

‘She did?’

‘Yes, we’ve just come from her house in Pleasantville.’

‘And she spoke to you? May I ask why? No offence, but I’ve been trying for a year. I can barely get her to answer the phone.’

‘My father was an investor in the Asner scam. His name was Peter Ellis.’