14 - J. T. Ellison [125]
There was more. Buried seven pages into the printouts, which were covered in scribbles, block capital letters and speculations, most of which they’d already figured out, there were three words. Two words, really, and a phone number.
Sex. Video. 212-555-3457.
She went back to the page and read it again, and again. She handed it to Baldwin. His eyes lit up.
“Call the number. Put it on speaker.”
She dialed, and they sat back. A prerecorded voice cut through the air. “You’ve reached the offices of New York State Attorney General Conrad Hawley. Our offices are now closed.”
Taylor clicked the phone off. That was all they needed to hear. She and Baldwin shared a long look. The shit was about to hit the fan.
She stood and stretched. “I’ve got to get out of here. Let’s walk.”
He followed her out and they left the building, trudging up to Second Avenue until they came to the Hooters on the corner.
“This’ll work,” she said, and they went in. “I’m hungry, anyway. Let’s get a couple of beers and burgers and talk this out.”
They ordered and Taylor waited until she had a beer in her hand to talk again.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Frank wasn’t killed because he discovered Edward Delglisi is Anthony Malik. He was killed because he tracked the whole sordid business to a significant person, someone who could hurt and be hurt. Saraya Gonzalez told me she was filmed having sex with very important men. If all of this is true, if Frank’s theory is right, there might actually be a highly inflammatory videotape showing the attorney general of New York State having nonconsensual sex with an illegal immigrant named Saraya Gonzalez. That might be enough to kill a few people to get hold of. If Delglisi, sorry, Malik had that tape, and was holding it over the A.G.’s head—”
“And someone else got their hands on it—”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
“One problem. Where would this mythical tape be?”
“That’s the last piece of the puzzle. I think I might know. The massage parlor that the Snow White copycat hit. We seized a ton of pictures and video. I’m assuming that there’s going to be more than a few compromising shots among the evidence. If one of them was Conrad Hawley, I’d say we’ve discovered Malik’s ace in the hole.”
“And now we know why he wanted you to turn your head. This is big, Taylor. Bigger than us. I’ve got to let Garrett know. He can work with the team of agents who have been tracking Malik, get them involved in this.”
Their food arrived and she took a big bite of her burger instead of answering. Win Jackson’s voice ran through her head. Then Malik’s joined the fray. Before she could stop herself, she was back in the memory of the party. The image of the four men flashed in her mind. Some fog had cleared; she saw the light, the reflection, the men, gathered at the foot of the stairs, laughing, and the man coughing….
Their names came to her in turn. Anthony Malik, Burt Mars, Win Jackson and the man with the signet ring… Fortnight.
“That’s it!” she screamed. Eric Fortnight. How had it not come to her before now? No matter, that was Snow White’s real identity.
“What, what?” Baldwin nearly upset his pint glass.
“Eric Fortnight. That’s Snow White’s real name, Baldwin, I’m sure of it. Oh my God, it was right there in front of me all the time. The memory I keep having, of the New Year’s Eve party. Eric Fortnight was the man wearing the signet ring. His wife’s name was Carlotta. She was German or something, foreign. Very dramatic. I think she was actually some kind of countess or something. She was wearing my mother’s costume.”
Taylor shut her eyes to better access her recall. “Carlotta Fortnight. She died. She died giving birth, I remember that now. My mother was horrified, that’s why I don’t have any siblings. Dad always wanted another kid. Kitty was having nothing of it. There were all kinds of rumors at the time. The child was sick, I think. I don’t know if it lived or not. I think they might have had another kid, too. But Carlotta definitely died. And Baldwin? She had long black hair