Hedging (A Smith and Wetzon Mystery)

It’s bein’ run by some recluse out of his mansion on the Jersey shore, and well recommended by a priest connected to the Vatican.”
    “How is that possible?”
    “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
    “Do we know this con man with the hedge fund?”
    “I didn’t. His name is Jason McLaughlin. Do you know him?”
    “Les? Les? Hey—” He shook her shoulder.
    Silvestri was sitting next to her, staring into her face. Judy Blue was leaning toward her, consternation wiping the neutrality from her face.
    Leslie blinked. “What’s wrong?”
    “You blanked out,” Silvestri said. “Where were you?”
    She was puzzled. “How long?”
    “A minute or so,” Judy Blue said.
    “I don’t understand—”
    A beeper went off. Both Judy Blue and Silvestri reached for theirs.
    “It’s mine,” Judy Blue said. She took out her cell and walked into the kitchen. “Yeah. I’ll be right in.” She moved toward the door. “We’ll have to continue this later.”
    Silvestri was trying to read her. “Something to do with this case?”
    Judy Blue paused, weighing whether to say anything further. “I’m trusting you, Leslie, not to run away again.”
    “I didn’t run away.”
    “That phone call?” Silvestri said.
    Judy Blue nodded. “We have positive ID on the bodies.”

28
    “S O THE fuzz turns you on,” Wally said, jerking his head toward Silvestri at the end of the bar, his back against the wall, eyes on the door and storefront window.
    Gingerly, Leslie pulled the glove on over the bandage and adjusted the Mets cap. “I knew him in another life.”
    “Whatever. So long as he pays for his seat and he’s not made.” Wally headed for the back. “Keep your head up. We’ll be busy tonight, but at least Ellis is sober and in the kitchen.”
    She brought Silvestri a Beck’s. The two Texas types in jeans and cowboy boots who’d just come in, ordered tap. They were actors talking shop. Actors always talk shop.
    The place began to fill up. Wally was wearing a path in the floor taking orders, fetching burgers, serving the glasses of wine Leslie poured.
    When a solitary man in a wet raincoat walked in and sat down in the empty seat next to Silvestri, the actors, who had just paid their bill and were getting ready to leave, did a double take. They decided to stay and asked for two more cold ones, throwing what they thought were surreptitious glances toward Carlos.
    “You guys are too much,” Leslie said, rinsing a glass with vermouth and filling it with vodka. She added two olives on a toothpick and placed it in front of Carlos.
    “I wanted onions,” he said.
    “I don’t do onions. You want a burger?”
    “Why not?”
    “One down, medium rare,” she told Wally as he went by.
    Carlos rolled his eyes at Silvestri. “She was born for this.”
    A line had formed outside, people waiting to get it. Leslie worked up a sweat, moving up and down the bar, filling booze orders for Wally’s tables, collecting money.
    She looked up once and saw Silvestri had gone. “Where’d he go?” she asked Carlos.
    “This is not a bad burger,” he said.
    “Carlos.”
    “Outside. He got a call.”
    “Is he coming back? I’ll need his seat.”
    “He’s not leaving you, Birdie.” He wiped greasy fingers on a napkin and reached into his pocket. “Forgot to give you this.” It was a man’s watch, an old Porsche. “It’s mine. I couldn’t find one of yours.”
    She stopped to strap it on. It was loose, like a bracelet. “I’m keeping it.”
    Someone waved to her down at the other end. A multi highlighted, rain sprayed blonde sat sideways on the stool, two men behind her. Two cold ones and a red. The blonde said, “I’m counsel and I say we let him swing in the wind. There’s no way we can look good in an arbitration.”
    The younger of the two men said, “He’s buried more clients than an undertaker.”
    “Becker, Bryson’s got him now. Good luck to them.”
    Leslie wondered if they were talking about a broker from her headhunting life. Would she recognize his name? She wiped down the counter pretending not to listen, but they never mentioned the broker’s name.
    The two actors had worked themselves up and approached Carlos. Carlos was gracious. Two women slipped onto the stools the actors had vacated and ordered Coronas.
    Leslie set the mugs down, edged toward the front window hoping to catch a glimpse of Silvestri. The window was steamy. A wide brimmed black hat, then the face beneath it