The October List

down her cheeks and she had to pause to compose herself.
    Then, standing right in front of the window, she instructed, ‘Come here.’
    ‘What—?’ Daniel asked.
    ‘Come here,’ she repeated firmly.
    Frowning, curious at her tone, Daniel did as instructed. As a cool autumn breeze flowed into the room from the open window, she gripped him hard and kissed him on his mouth. Tentatively at first, then more firmly.
    ‘Kiss me back,’ she whispered.
    He was startled but he did as ordered, firmly and with passion – his grip on her shoulders nearly hurt. She could sense his genuine desire. She felt a burst of longing within her.
    Then Gabriela forced herself to tell him in a whisper, ‘Step back, and look me over like you’re enjoying what you’re seeing.’ She stripped her burgundy sweater off.
    ‘I don’t have to pretend about that,’ Daniel mouthed.
    In her pale blue bra and close-fitting stretch pants, she walked to the window, paused for a moment and slid the shade down. She then put the sweater back on.
    ‘Bummer,’ he whispered.
    She held her fingers to her lips. She grabbed the TV remote and – muting the volume – turned the unit and the cable box on, then scrolled through pay-per-view channels until she found an adult movie. Two clicks and the bad film came to life in medias res , depicting a young couple going at it poolside in a very stressed lounger. The volume rose.
    Uhn, uhn, uhn …
    She nodded to the door then snagged the leather jacket from the rack in the hall. But her face grew somber as she looked at the garment on a neighboring hook: a child’s faux-fur parka.
    More tears flowed.
    Daniel put his arm around her shoulder, gave an encouraging hug. Gabriela pulled on sunglasses. He did too and they stepped out the door into the hallway, which smelled of carpet and cleanser. In ten minutes they were slipping out of the service entrance in the back of the building, and heading once more for Central Park, free of prying eyes and ears.

CHAPTER
11
     

11:15 a.m., Saturday
45 minutes earlier
     

 

 
     
    ‘I still can’t believe it,’ Gabriela whispered. ‘If you ever met him, met Charles, you’d think it was impossible what those men were saying.’
    She and Daniel continued walking in silence into the shadows of the Upper West Side. They were almost to her apartment. There, she’d explained, she’d call her co-worker Elena and Charles’s lawyer and see if she could piece together what had happened.
    She added, ‘He was the nicest guy in the world. When I got divorced, he said anything I needed, just let him know. He found a lawyer for the divorce. One of the best in the city. He lent me ten thousand for expenses. But it wasn’t a loan. I tried to pay him back but he wouldn’t take a penny.’ She took a tissue and pressed it to her eyes.
    They turned down a canyon-like cross street to head west. In a moment they were at her building, a five-story brick structure a few blocks from Central Park, between Columbus and Amsterdam.
    As they walked into the lobby a man, standing near the elevator, looked her up and down. ‘Gabriela McKenzie?’
    ‘Shit. Another cop?’ she whispered to Daniel.
    Then their eyes noted he carried a paper Whole Foods shopping bag.
    ‘What’s this?’ she asked softly.
    ‘You are Gabriela?’ The man was six-two. He was solid, but not fat. Solid the way a bag of fertilizer’s solid. His hair was a mass of curly blond ringlets.
    ‘Yes. I’m sorry, who are you?’
    A giddy laugh. ‘Hey, there. How’re you doing? Beautiful morning, isn’t it? Gorgeous. Predicting overcast and temperatures plummeting later, but let’s enjoy what we’ve got now, shall we?’
    He strode up to them, moving in a lithe way for a large man. A faint grin. ‘I’m Joseph.’ He didn’t extend his hand. ‘Don’t try to rack your brains. We’ve never met.’ A nod at Daniel, who gazed into the man’s dark eyes. Under an unbuttoned black overcoat, he wore a loose-fitting brown suit and a dress shirt with two slashes of crease across the belly. His teeth, curiously, had a slightly pinkish tint.
    ‘And you …?’ She didn’t complete the question but instead asked, ‘How do you know me?’
    ‘Oh, I don’t yet. Not personally, that is. My loss, that. How you doing today? Not in the mood to chat? No worries. I’ve got something you’ll be interested in.’
    ‘What’re you talking about? Leave us alone.’
    ‘Wait. “Interested,” I said. Aren’t you