Page 14

A few hours earlier, Benny Gilmore arrived on Fifth Avenue, a block away from where Jack Coulter lived.

After Gennaro had hired him the previous evening, it had taken Benny less than five minutes to find Coulter’s address.

He had then spent another hour collecting as much information about the guy as he could, before drawing up the plan that had him in Coulter’s neighborhood before dawn.

As Benny had hoped, the sidewalks were empty but for a couple of joggers.

A few more people and someone would notice what he was about to do.

He stopped walking in front of Coulter’s building, about ten feet to the side of the entrance and just out of range of the building’s security camera.

From his pocket, he retrieved a piece of rope that he’d precut to six feet four inches and used it to place a chalk mark on the building at that height.

After performing the same task on the opposite side of the entrance, he crossed the street and found a spot from where he could watch the building.

Benny had only found a few photos of Coulter, which told him the man was very private.

The best picture was one taken of Coulter with his wife, Hillary, at a charity banquet where they had made a sizable donation.

Benny had compared the photo to the only one he could unearth of Johnny Fratelli, a decades-old mug shot from before Fratelli had been sent to prison.

Even with the difference in ages, Benny could see that the men resembled each other.

The big exception was their radically different noses, but a trip to a plastic surgeon could explain that.

Still, it wasn’t enough to say with any certainty that Coulter was Fratelli.

It was going to be a lot easier to prove that they weren’t the same person than the other way around.

Johnny Fratelli had been six foot four when he’d been arrested back in the day.

Factoring in nearly three decades of life, Coulter should be within an inch or two of that, if they were the same person.

If he wasn’t, then they were different people, and Benny’s job would be done.

Having been unable to find Coulter’s height online, Benny decided to obtain the information in a more hands-on way.

Hence the rope and chalk marks.

All he needed now was for Coulter to step outside and pass by one of his marks.

A steady trickle of people began leaving the building from dawn until around nine a.

m.

, after which it slowed considerably.

Not one of the people Benny had seen had been Coulter.

But Benny had expected this.

At Coulter’s age and with the kind of money he and his wife had, there was little need for him to go anywhere so early in the morning.

A couple minutes before ten, a Mercedes-Maybach pulled up in front of the building.

Soon after, a doorman opened the building’s entrance and an older woman stepped out, followed by a beautiful younger woman with curly brown hair that fell to her shoulders.

Benny was so busy eyeing her that he didn’t realize a third person had exited with them until the doorman called out, “Mr. Coulter!”

Jack Coulter paused a few steps from the Mercedes and looked back at the entrance.

The doorman hurried over and handed Coulter a manila envelope.

He and Coulter exchanged a few words, then the doorman returned to the building and Coulter climbed into the Mercedes.

“Well, dammit,” Benny said.

He’d thought he’d been so smart coming up with the chalk trick, but Coulter hadn’t gone near either mark.

Now Benny was going to have to wait for him to come back, and who knew how long that would be.

As Benny was stewing over this, Coulter’s doorman exited the building again, a broom and dust bin in hand, and began sweeping along the wall.

Within a couple steps, he was standing next to one of the chalk marks.

It was above him by a good three inches.

Benny cocked his head.

A few moments prior, that same doorman had been standing next to Coulter.

When they’d spoken, they’d been almost eye to eye.

The doorman had been the shorter of the two, but not by more than an inch or two at most.

Which put Coulter right in the Johnny Fratelli sweet spot.

Benny returned to his office and spent the next few hours working his sources for more information.

When he felt he had enough, he called Gennaro.

“Yeah?” Gennaro’s sister answered.

“Hey, Rosa. It’s Benny Gilmore. Ricky’s expecting my call.”

“Hold on.”

Half a minute later, Gennaro came on the line.

“Tell me you have good news.”

“I think I do,” Benny said.

“You think?”

“You want something concrete, you’re going to need a DNA test.”

“Fair enough. So?”

“Everything I’ve found points to Coulter being Fratelli.”

“Hot damn! You’re sure?”

“I already told you, nothing’s for sure. Here’s what I know. Coulter’s the right height, and he looks like an aged version of Fratelli. Not counting his nose, but I’m thinking rhinoplasty.”

“Rhino what?”

“Plasty. It means he got a nose job.”

“Right. I knew that.”

“There’s more. Before a few years ago, no one had ever seen Coulter.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Not even a little bit. But that’s not the best part. The first time someone did was a couple of months after Johnny Fratelli disappeared.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“What does Coulter do for a living?”

“Not a thing. His money makes money. All he has to do is sit around, drink champagne, and rake it in.”

“How rich is he?”

“Before he got married, I’d estimate he had over ten mil stashed away, but that’s just a guess, and it’s small change compared to how much he has access to now.”

“What do you mean?”

“His wife’s the loaded one, like hundreds of millions of dollars loaded.”

The line went silent.

“You still there?” Benny asked.

“I’m here. Send me over everything you’ve dug up.”

“Sure, Ricky. No problem. Um, if you have something going and you need help, I’d—”

Benny stopped himself.

Gennaro had already hung up.