Chapter 30: Intermezzo

Saturday, September 14th, 11:45 am

“—responded to an anonymous call just after six in the morning. Desai was found hanging from the ceiling in what initial reports suggest may be a suicide. However, Robert Connors, chief spokesperson for the NYPD, says investigators aren’t done with their investigation at this time.”

The image on the screen flashed to Rajesh Desai dressed in a tuxedo as he climbed out of a black Suburban. His white, toothy smile shone as he waved for the cameras before holding out his hand to escort some beautiful young woman out of the vehicle. He silently traded some kind of quick barb with the girl and then erupted in laughter while the reporter continued to talk over the recording of the wealthy man from India.

“Known in New York as one of the strongest advocates for the gentrification of low-income areas by bringing in new business, Desai was last seen publicly attending a charity auction for Parkinson’s before stopping to see fellow billionaire Marcus Upton on his way back to the Langdon, which he frequently visited. No statement has been issued from the Desai family at this time.”

The feed cut back to a pretty woman in her early thirties with dark hair cut in a short pixie cut.

“We’ll bring you updates as the story develops. For now, the financial world reacts with shock at the sudden death of one of its most prominent players, and New York holds a moment of silence for a staunch community ally. This is Patricia Stoddard with the Morning Report.”

The video froze in place as the stream reached the end of the content.

“Do you really think it was suicide?” I asked, glancing at Psalter.

The older man stared at the frozen image of the news anchor as if his dark, piercing eyes could divine answers from a digital still.

“No.”

Everyone else in the room looked his way, surprised at his certainty.

“No?” I asked.

“No,” he repeated. “He doesn’t fit the profile.”

“Henry’s right,” Helen said, her arms crossed over her chest. “Rajesh and I hardly mingled socially, but I spent enough time around him to know he wasn’t suicidal. He enjoyed his vices too much.”

“You didn’t see him right before he left,” I pointed out. “He looked shaken.”

I recounted the conversation I’d had with Desai the night before. He had come to broker a deal between Tanaka and me, but when I pushed back, he’d grown desperate. I told them how he claimed to have dirt on the Gerrards, how he threatened to bring me down ... how he even tried to extort me by demanding sex with Helen.

“Do you think this was Hiro?” I asked.

Psalter frowned, doubtful. “He’s certainly capable. But it feels messy. Killing Rajesh reeks of desperation, and it risks war with the Desai family. That’s risky for someone already at odds with Gerrard.”

“Tanaka isn’t exactly the most stable guy right now,” Erin pointed out. She sat on my desk, legs dangling off the edge, palms pressed to the dark wood as she stared around the room. “First Carla and the whole boardroom humiliation, then Ryo’s fuck-up ... it’s a lot for a man with that much pride.”

The brief phone call I’d had with Hiro the day before came to mind. His tone had turned menacing just before I hung up on him. He had been pissed—certainly angry enough to do something rash. Considering his rumored body count already, Erin was right. It wasn’t far-fetched to believe Hiro Tanaka would kill someone working with him.

Especially when that someone failed to negotiate on his behalf.

“If he did kill Rajesh, why? Was he just pissed off because Rajesh didn’t convince me to give him Ryo or Carla?”

“It’s possible,” Psalter said. “Hiro’s always been more calculating than that, but to Erin’s point, he’s been hot-tempered as of late.”

“Just because he’s pissed off doesn’t mean he can’t act strategically,” Chloe said. “Sure, it may have been because Rajesh failed, but Hiro is clever enough to kill two birds with one stone. Maybe three.”

“What do you mean?” Helen asked.

“Desai’s threat failed,” Chloe went on, “but if Rajesh had dirt on Marcus, who’s to say he didn’t have dirt on Tanaka as well?”

“They’re working together, though,” I pointed out.

“Working together is strong language.” Psalter adjusted his glasses. “From the sound of it, Desai was doing Tanaka’s bidding. Hiro isn’t known for being gentle with the ones who work under him.”

“And Rajesh didn’t just fail,” Chloe continued. “Marcus fired back. If Hiro picked up on that and entertained the idea that Rajesh could be blackmailed into turning on him ... well, Tanaka has enough foresight to take care of him before he becomes a problem.”

“So,” I said slowly, “Tanaka might not have just been pissed that Rajesh wasn’t able to get the job done. He could have also been worried about the guy double-crossing him to save his own skin in case I actually did have damning evidence. Makes sense. What’s the third stone?”

Chloe leveled her gaze at me. “Sending a message.”

“Fuck!” I spat. Message received loud and clear. “What do we do now?”

“Nothing,” Helen said.

“You don’t think I should give Ryo back?”

“He’ll ask for Carla next,” Helen said.

That shut me up. Carla was insufferable. She was also the one who had gotten me into this mess. Sure, she’d helped me solidify Chandler as CEO of VistaVision, but it had cost me dearly. It had turned Hiro Tanaka—an incredibly dangerous man—into a monster with his sights set on me.

But that didn’t mean Carla deserved to die, which was probably what would happen if I turned her over to her husband.

“Then he’ll ask for more control over VistaVision,” Erin chimed in.

“I got it,” I said, annoyed. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists. So we don’t do anything?”

“Not directly,” Psalter said. “We can look a little closer into Desai’s death—see if there’s something that could link Tanaka. Perhaps we might get lucky and find something you could use as leverage to keep him off your back. It’s a longshot but worth a try.”

“In the meantime,” Chloe said, “we’ll beef up security more and make damn sure no one associated with him gets within five miles of you without being stripped naked and subjected to a severe cavity search.”

I nodded, not really liking the idea of even more security. The protocols Chloe had put in place just to go to a coffee shop already sounded like they were meant for the President or a king.

“So, we might have another problem,” the last person in the room finally spoke up. It was Charity. We all turned to look at her. “This was one of the last places he visited before he died. That’s a bad look.”

“So,” I said, “if the police show up, I’ll just tell them what happened—Rajesh showed up to my party. He had a good time. We had a discussion, and then he left.”

“He died at his apartment after visiting you,” Charity pointed out, “and anyone who saw the way you two were talking could tell something was up. It won’t take much for people to draw conclusions ... especially when Rajesh had so many friends in the community. This could be bad for public sentiment.”

“It could also present legal trouble,” Helen said. She looked at Psalter. “Especially if they find evidence linking back to Marcus.”

“That’s my cue,” Psalter said. He placed the fedora he was holding on his head and tugged on the brim. “I’ll get started immediately. I’m assuming you want me on this personally?”

“It sounds pretty serious,” I said.

Psalter nodded and then headed for the study door. “I’ll have someone else deal with the hunt for Roger.”

Helen stood and gathered her lukewarm cup of coffee. She looked tired but alert. “I’ll talk to William and Karl,” she said, referring to her partners. “We’ll want to have a strategy in place in the event that you are accused of something.”

Considering Psalter was already out the door, the only ones left in the room were women I already had an intimate relationship with. Since that was the case, neither Helen nor I had a problem with her approaching me and kissing me on the cheek.

“You’re in the best hands imaginable,” she said. She didn’t smile, but there was a degree of warmth in her ice-blue eyes as she stared up at me. She squeezed my hand briefly, and she was right—I trusted each person in this room implicitly with my life, my reputation, and my welfare.

“Thanks,” I said.

I gave her hand a quick, firm squeeze before letting go. She headed for the door.

“I’m going to call Julia,” Charity said as she followed, approaching me. Like Helen, she looked a little worse for wear, her eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

“I’d like her input,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep the details to a minimum.” Then, in a lower voice, she added, “Thanks for last night. I needed it.”

“You didn’t mind it turning into ... well, everything?” I asked.

Charity shook her head. “It was fun. And I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities with just the two of us.”