Free Curious Minds by Janet Evanovich

where the two older men sat in their boat, peacefully fishing as though nothing had transpired.
    Emerson swung the kayak around and in minutes they were past the bend in the river, heading toward the flotilla of red rowboats and, beyond them, the dock.
    Emerson stopped paddling and held his hand up for Riley to also stop. The homeless man was still in the woods by the shore, looking out at them.
    “Use the magnifying glasses,” Emerson said to Riley.
    Riley slipped the zoomies back on and focused on the homeless man.
    “It’s Günter!” Riley said.
    As if with one mind, Emerson and Riley changed course and paddled the kayak toward the shore. The boat plowed through the goldenrod that lined the bank and slogged into a foot of muck.
    “He’s gone,” Riley said. “He took off as soon as he realized he was recognized.”
    “Odd,” Emerson said. “He seemed so stable in all my dealings with him.”
    “At least we know he’s alive.”
    Riley hadn’t been close to Günter. She’d known him a short time on a strictly professional level, but he’d been extremely nice to her, generous with both his time and patience during her internship. It was comforting to know he was alive, but disturbing to see him looking like a half-crazed vagrant.
    “Should we go after him?” Riley asked Emerson.
    “No. He has a good head start on us and we haven’t any shoes. We’d never be able to chase him down in the woods.”
    “What do you suppose happened to him? We should do
something
! I’m sure he needs help.”
    “I’ll make a call and send someone to scour the woods along this stretch of river.”
    Riley’s phone chirped, and she glanced at the caller ID. It was Werner Grunwald. She ignored the call and slipped the phone back into her pocket.
    By the time they made it back to the boathouse it was almost four o’clock. They returned the kayak and walked back to the parking lot. Maxine’s car was gone, and there were no guys in dark suits hanging around.
    Emerson stopped at the spot where Maxine’s car had been parked and picked a pair of sunglasses off the pavement. A lens was shattered and an earpiece was askew.
    “Oakleys,” he said. “Maxine was wearing Oakleys.”
    “Lots of people wear Oakleys.”
    “Yes, but not many people carry gold bars around with them in a duffel bag,” Emerson said.
    “So you think someone conked her over the head and took her gold?”
    “I think she’s placed herself in a dangerous situation.”
    —
    T he next morning Riley ate a handful of Cap’n Crunch out of the box, went out to her car, and drove toward Rock Creek Park.
    She was two blocks from her apartment when Werner’s assistant called.
    “Mr. Grunwald needs to see you,” he said. “Immediately.”
    “Tell him I’ll be there in a half hour.”
    Bummer, Riley thought. Now what?
    She turned right on Park Road instead of left and cursed the traffic all the way to Constitution Avenue.
    Thirty-five minutes later she got off the elevator on the seventeenth floor of Blane-Grunwald and went directly to Werner’s office.
    “I’m sorry I missed your call yesterday,” Riley said to Werner. “I was with Mr. Knight.”
    “The call wasn’t important,” Werner said. “I asked my assistant to check in with you to make sure Emerson was comfortable with our arrangement. Unfortunately, the call this morning is of a more unpleasant nature. Maxine Trowbridge has been murdered. I got a call early this morning from the New York office. She was found on Liberty Street, in the Financial District. She was stabbed. Apparently. The details are pretty sketchy.”
    “That’s not possible.”
    “I know it’s a shock.”
    “No. It’s not possible. How could Maxine be in New York?”
    “We’ll never know. I suppose she went up there yesterday.”
    Riley sensed movement on the far side of the room and realized there was another man in the office. He’d been sitting quietly in one of the Eames chairs that flanked the window.
    “Oh,