Free Cold Open, A Sam North Mystery by Greg Clarkin Page A

her close.
    “We knew this was a possibility if Robbie Steele was right,” I said.
    “I just wasn’t ready for it to be a reality.”
    “If someone wants me to stop, than maybe Robbie’s hunch is right. Maybe Jack’s note is a fake.”
    We crossed Fourteenth and walked up First.
    “Even though the police, and Robbie, verified it as his handwriting,” she said.
    “Sometimes you just have to ignore the obvious signs and plow ahead.”
    Liz went quiet as we walked, which worried me.
    “When this thing started,” I said, “I thought Robbie Steele was crazy.”
    “But you agreed to help her.”
    “I did. She seemed so damned sure something had happened. Then, she tells me she’s pregnant and that Jack always wanted to be a dad—so why would he jump in the river?”
    “But the pregnancy hasn’t been verified. You’re not even certain of that,” she said.
    “She’d have to be pretty warped to make that up, don’t you think?”
    “Maybe,” she said.
    “Let’s assume she’s telling the truth,” I said. “I go out and start asking questions, and look what happens. Some guy threatens me. That right there tells me there’s something going on.”
    She pulled away and stiffened and she seemed to want some space, like she had to work it all out.
    We turned onto Eighteenth Street and walked west. The block was quiet and empty. Lights were on inside apartments and it all seemed like what passes for a run-of-the-mill evening.
    “Want me to pick?” I asked.
    Liz turned and looked at me. “Pick?”
    “Between my fabulous girlfriend and the story?”
    “No.”
    “Good,” I said.
    “At least not yet.”
    “You going to make me sweat this out?”
    “Having someone you care about threatened is serious.”
    “It is.”
    “You start snooping around, look what happens,” she said. “We both know the deeper you get in, the more dangerous it’s going to be.”
    We took a right on Third and walked north in silence for a bit. Things felt pretty icy at the moment.
    “Okay,” I said. “If forced to pick, I’d go with …”
    “This better be the right answer,” Liz said.
    “The fabulous new girlfriend.”
    Liz looked over and in the glow of the streetlights I saw her smile.
    “A wise choice,” she said.
    I pulled her to me and wrapped her in a hug.
    “I’m going to call someone I know to work with me on this. You know, so I’m not roaming around asking questions by myself.”
    “You mean like, some muscle?” she asked.
    “Yeah, I know a guy who knows a guy who’s going to help me out,” I said.
    “Will you be referring to me as a broad when you talk to the muscle?”
    “Whatever you like,” I said, leaning over to kiss her.

Chapter Sixteen
     
     
    I stood waiting in what felt like the lobby of an upscale hotel. Lots of light, gleaming wood and a few huge circular tables, upon which sat big oversize pots containing flowers and plants that appeared to be very well tended.
    And as far as waiting goes, this was not a bad place to have to pass a few minutes. Young women walked by in short-shorts or workout leggings with tight-fitting tank tops, their hair in ponytails, on their way either to or from a workout.
    As far as gyms go, this was a scene. And most likely that was what the owners of The Club in the Time Warner Center on Columbus Circle had in mind when they conceived it.
    A guy wearing sleek back sweats and a matching sleeveless workout shirt showing off his biceps made his way across the lobby toward me. He was smiling and glad-handing everyone, from the young things ready for a workout to the guy pushing a cart of drinks into the juice bar area.
    “Absolutely disgusting,” I said, as he reached me.
    “How the hell did you get past the front desk?” Freddie Sanchez asked.
    “Charm and good looks.”
    “Unlikely.”
    We shook hands and did the bro-hug thing, but then Freddie did the bro-hug thing with everybody, whether he knew you for a dozen years or half an hour.
    I shook my head