Free The Fives Run North-South by Dan Goodin

fired from the company?” Viniteri asked.
    “Of course.”
    “Are you having an affair?”
    “No.”
    “Have you ever?”
    “Does it matter?”
    “If she had a husband, it really does.” Slight knee bounce.
    “Then we’ll go with ‘no.’” I said.
    He nodded.
    “Did you keep the beer can?” he asked.
    “From last night?”
    “That’s the one.”
    “I tossed it in the trash.”
    “When you go home, carefully remove it from the trash. Pick it up wearing gloves, touching only the top and bottom edge. Put it in a baggie and bring it to me.”
    “Prints?”
    “Yes.”
    “Are you done with the questions?” I asked, looking at my watch.
    “Nope. But for now, yes.” He stood up. “Assuming you’re hiring me, I’m going to monitor you for a couple days. Your home, this office, or just follow you around. If this guy is stalking you, I should be able to catch it. Then I can go to work on figuring out who he is, and see where it goes from there. If we don’t trip over him in the next few days, let’s meet again and think on plan B.”
    I stayed seated. Staring him down, I said: “You still have your doubts about this, don’t you?”
    “I’ve found I do a better job when I remain open to possibilities.”
    “I can live with that.”
    He started to leave then stopped. Turning to me, he asked: “How are things going here? I mean, would you describe it as more or less stressful than usual?”
    “Okay, Columbo,” I said, laughing slightly. “Perhaps higher stress than usual.”
    He nodded. “Thought so,” he said before turning down the hallway toward the exit.

    I liked him. My instincts felt aligned. And even though nothing had really been accomplished, I felt that the whole annoying mess was essentially over with. My ability to compartmentalize had always served me well, but this was more than that — I felt the relief of finality.
    Now on to the matter of Kyle Thomas.
    I had a conference call with Chester set up to begin in five minutes. Enough time to grab a cold bottle of water from the break room and to check the written messages that had stacked up during my meeting with Viniteri. There were five waiting for me. Most were nothing of importance, but my vision tunneled on the bottom one. It was from Chester. It said simply: Can’t make our call. Must reschedule.
    I walked over to my executive assistant’s desk and flashed the note in her face.
    “I assume you took this note, Joanne?”
    “Yes, Mr. Mann.”
    “Did Chester call from a mobile phone or land line? Could you tell?”
    “I’m pretty sure it was a mobile.”
    “Can I ask a favor?”
    “Sure,” she said. Joanne’s a top - shelf assistant. I hoped that she’d stay longer than a few years. It was a joke in the office how frequently I turned over assistants. All for different, fairly legitimate reasons, though the running joke was that I was difficult to work for. Most knew that wasn’t true.
    “Can I make a call on your cell phone? You can turn in your bill this month as a trade - off .”
    Her eyes widened. “Sure. You calling Russia or something?”
    “No. Just someone who probably wouldn’t pick up if he recognized the number.”
    She nodded, glad to be part of a small conspiracy. Fairly common trait among good assistants.
    I took her phone into my office, shut the door, and dialed.
    After four rings, I was sure my call was heading for voice mail. Then, with a certain hesitancy in his greeting, I heard Chester.
    “Hello?”
    I pictured him just prior to answering, looking at the strange phone number on his readout, big eyebrows crunched in a failed effort to recognize it.
    “Hey, Chester, what’s up?”
    Silence. I could almost hear the eyebrows wriggling.
    “Adam?”
    “That’s me. Sounds like you have a minute to talk, hey?”
    “Um….uh…well, not really, I’m…I’m…”
    “Don’t herniate yourself trying to come up with something. Have a seat, let’s talk. It won’t take but a moment. You’re not