Hedging (A Smith and Wetzon Mystery)

talk about the explosion.”
    “I don’t remember anything.”
    Silvestri said, “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself, Blue?”
    Judy Blue sighed. “What do you want to know, Silvestri?”
    “Are you wearing a wire?”
    “No.”
    “How about a mini recorder? Like the one in your pocket.” He held out his hand.
    Without an iota of shame, Judy Blue took a tiny recorder from the pocket of her jacket and removed the tape. “Okay?”
    “Thanks,” Silvestri said, taking the tape. “Okay, let’s talk. You first.”
    Agent Blue dropped the empty recorder into her pocket. “Jason McLaughlin,” she said. Leslie shuddered, pulled the blanket to her chin. “You know him, of course.”
    “I don’t remember. Why do you say ‘of course’?”
    “You were with him the night of the explosion. You were working for him. As an assistant.”
    “I’m a headhunter. I have my own business. How could I possibly be working for him? It doesn’t make sense. People on Wall Street know me. They’d recognize my name.” She looked at Silvestri. She was doing all right.
    “You took a leave of absence. And another name.”
    Leslie gripped the blanket as Judy Blue’s words sank in. “My God,” she said. Sweat beaded along her upper lip, the nape of her neck, rolled down between her breasts. “Mary Lou Salinger.”
    “Yes.”
    “She was working for you,” Silvestri said.
    “Look, Silvestri, this wasn’t our idea. We don’t put civilians undercover. She volunteered to go in on her own because her friend—”
    “Laura Lee Day,” Leslie said. “She was in trouble.”
    “This is nice,” Laura Lee said. “I’m fried.” Her usual buoyant spirits were deflated, her face drawn, blue smudges under her eyes.
    They were in the Union Square Cafe, sitting at the bar, one of the greatest pleasures of living in New York. Caesars and a bottle of Grande Cassagne syrah. Laura Lee had just returned from Mississippi after attending her grandfather’s funeral.
    “Want to talk?” Wetzon said.
    “Not yet.” A wan smile surfaced. “Would you believe my mother kept introducin’ me as her ‘unmarried daughter’?”
    “No.”
    “How was your day?”
    Wetzon took a sip of wine. “Like any other day, full of misperceptions.”
    “That’s the subtext of our business, isn’t it, Wetzon darlin’?”
    “You’re so right.” She dug into the salad. “I love anchovies.”
    Uncharacteristically, Laura Lee was silent, picking at her food.
    “So,” Wetzon said, trying a diversion, “I sent a broker with a major WASP pedigree, a numeral three no less, good business potential, great tailor, to see Dick Malloy.”
    Laura Lee perked up. “If it fits, I always say.”
    “You know him?”
    “I met The Dick at Grace Goldsmith’s weddin’. He’s a friend of her husband, ex now.”
    “God, already? How long were they married?”
    “Eighteen months,” Laura Lee said, taking a sip of wine. “He looked good on paper. The forged kind. Anyway, The Dick’s been callin’ me ever since tryin’ to get me out for a drink.”
    “Maybe he’s trying to recruit you without having to pay a headhunter.”
    “I told him right upfront, Wetzon darlin’. I don’t go anywhere without you.”
    Wetzon lifted her glass, drawling, “What a pal, what a pal.”
    “So anyway, you sent a numeral three to see The Dick.”
    “A study in contrasts. But guess what? The numeral three tells me, ‘I really liked Dick. I was very comfortable with him. He left it to me to pursue. I want to.’”
    “And the punchline is?”
    Wetzon smiled. “Not what I expected. The Dick said no chance he’d hire him, that he was a permanent mediocrity. When The Dick asked him where he saw himself in five years, the jerk says, ‘in my own business.’”
    Laura Lee groaned. “WASPS are definitely missin’ a gene.”
    Wetzon topped off their glasses.
    “I think my Uncle Weaver is involved in a major fraud,” Laura Lee said. “He runs the U.S. Jackson Insurance Company. It’s a privately held, very successful company.”
    “Did he buy a slew of derivatives?”
    “Not exactly. Aunt Bren says he’s been investin’ the company’s pension with a hedge fund run by someone I swear I’d never heard of and makin’ huge profits. A con man for sure.”
    “He never checked him out with you?”
    “That side of the family, my mother’s side, has never taken me seriously. He’s being defrauded. I came back and began lookin’ into this hedge fund.