Page 183 of The 6:20 Man

CHAPTER

78

DEVINE AND MONTGOMERY TOOK THEIR leave from the detectives, and Staten Island.

As they cabbed it back to Manhattan, Montgomery said, “So, Myers killed four people in exchange for a new pickup truck?”

He glanced at her. “I’ve seen people do it for a lot less than that, Michelle.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

Devine took the train back out to his house after dropping off Montgomery at her hotel, and walked home from there.

Valentine wasn’t on the couch or in the kitchen filling his belly. Overhead, Devine could hear Tapshaw tap-tapping away on her computer, happy as a clam. Helen Speers stood in her doorway and stared at him as he came up the stairs.

“Busy day?” she said.

“Another dead body found.”

“Who was it this time?” she asked calmly.

“You’re not surprised?”

“What’s one more?”

He stood in front of her and shook his head. “I really don’t get you.”

“You don’t have to. Just like I don’t have to get you. Where’s your friend Michelle?”

“In a safe place. So, you like the Glock over the Sig?”

“And you like the Sig Sauer over the Glock, good Army man that you are. But diversity makes the world go round. I’m living proof of that.”

She closed the door.

He knocked on Valentine’s door but there was no answer. He tried the knob. It turned and he poked his head in. “Will, you in here eating pizza under the bedcovers?”

But Valentine wasn’t there. He’d never been in Valentine’s room before. What was astonishing to him was how neat and clean it was. Bed made, desk tidy. Monster computer screens that rivaled Tapshaw’s. Some books in Russian were on a shelf. Shoes lined up against one wall. He looked in the closet and saw that the clothes were neatly hung and separated by pants and shirts. His dresser was just as organized.

He had gotten adept at doing searches like this back in the Army. Out on patrols, they would frequently have to work their way through the homes of suspected Taliban and Al-Qaeda allies and informants. And those guys really knew how to hide stuff, he had discovered.

He looked over the desk and saw some Post-it notes affixed to the screen. They were all in Cyrillic. He smiled. Nice little piece of security there. In one desk drawer were some framed photos. They looked to be about twenty years old or so, judging by the clothes the people wore. A man and a woman were holding a baby with a girl around six next to them. Maybe that was Valentine’s family back in Mother Russia. He might be the baby boy.

He heard a noise downstairs. Devine put the photo back, closed the door, and left the room. He knocked on Tapshaw’s door just as Valentine came up the stairs.

His expression was serious, focused, Devine thought, until he saw Devine. Then Valentine smiled, and said, “Dude.”

Yeah, dude. “Hey, Will, how goes it?”

Tapshaw opened her door in her fluffy bunny slippers and capri pants with a white top. “Hey, guys. Is this a party or what?”

Speers opened her door and looked out. She eyed everyone and said, “All we do is pass each other every day and night. How about we go out for some beer and chips, roomies? And actually get to know each other?”

They crammed into Tapshaw’s Mini Cooper and made the short drive to downtown Mount Kisco.

The pub was rocking, but they found an empty table outside and ordered their beers and food. Valentine also had a vodka tonic and a slice of meatball pizza.

Tapshaw took a sip of her beer and said, “I think the Taiwanese are going to invest. Not the full amount I was initially looking for, but at least half.”