Free 28 Hearts of Sand by Jane Haddam Page B

these days. She was obviously not skipping any meals, but he thought that might be because she was skipping out on the utilities or making some other accommodation he found completely outside the pale. She was also very nervous. Talking to her was like plucking on a taut elastic band. She jumped if you did anything unexpected. She always seemed on the verge of tears.
    In a way, it was because of all that—because he felt sorry for her—that Kyle had suggested the arrangement to begin with. At that point, Chapin Waring had just died, and he thought it made a certain amount of sense to stop carrying so much cash on him all the time. In a lot of ways, it couldn’t be helped. For a certain kind of client with a certain kind of problem, cash was all that would do.
    Kyle regretted making the suggestion to Hope as soon as he’d made it. He regretted it even more on Saturday morning, when she’d gotten him out of bed and sounded completely hysterical. Hope was not a person who could be trusted in any situation in which stress was involved. She lost her nerve almost immediately.
    For a couple of days after Hope woke him up that morning, Kyle had waited. He had waited at home and in the office, just as he did after Chapin Waring was killed. There was nothing but the usual.
    Finally, Kyle had had to accept it. The Alwych Police Department didn’t think he was enough of a suspect to interview, never mind to demand an alibi from. He didn’t know if this was because they really hadn’t considered the obvious, or maybe they just didn’t want to bother the congresswoman’s ex-husband. The hiatus had given him just long enough to make sure he had nothing on him that could lead to the wrong kind of questions.
    This morning, he had risen and packed up his briefcase and driven to the train station. He usually drove into the city, but he was running late. Just for once he didn’t want the bother of traffic and rush hour and Manhattan parking.
    If anybody had opened his briefcase, they would have found it a model of rectitude. It had his phone, court documents from a bankruptcy filing that was being entered against his advice, a copy of Forbes and a copy of The Economist.
    He found himself a seat alone near a window. The train car was almost empty. There was a buzz in his briefcase. He opened it and took out the phone.
    “Yes,” he said, leaving the briefcase on the empty seat beside him.
    “Where the hell are you?” Walter said. “I’ve been looking for you for the past hour.”
    “I’m running a little late.” This was not an explanation. Kyle knew it. “The train is just leaving the station. I’ll be in in about an hour and a half.”
    “You’re taking the train? You never take the train.”
    “I couldn’t handle the traffic. Is this actually about something? Has there been some kind of crisis in the office?”
    “Listen.” Walter was whispering. His voice was so low, Kyle almost couldn’t hear it. “I’m a little worried about this phone. Your phone. We need a secure connection. We could get picked up.”
    “For God’s sake,” Kyle said again. “Those people would need a wiretap warrant. And to get a wiretap warrant, they’d need probable cause that a crime had been committed, or was being committed, or was about to be committed. What kind of crime do you think is being committed here?”
    “Everything is a crime these days,” Walter said.
    “For God’s—never mind. Walter, just tell me who it is so I’ll know what to expect when I get there.”
    More hemming and hawing. Another cough.
    “Walter,” Kyle said.
    Walter gave one great, last cough and said, “It’s the guy from Washington. He flew in this morning. He’s at the Hilton.”
    The train started to move. Kyle watched as he rolled slowly by cars and people and buildings.
    “Kyle?” Walter said.
    “I’m here,” Kyle said.
    “He’s blowing steam out his head. I’m supposed to call him as soon as you get in.”
    “You should both calm