The Darkness - Jason Pinter [23]
snow globes from around the world. The man had literally hundreds of them.
"I buy one in every city I set foot in," Talcott said
proudly. "Three hundred and forty-eight and counting."
Jack and I sat down. Talcott seemed disappointed that
we weren't impressed. We took out our notepads and pens
as Talcott sat down. He waited a moment to see if we might
compliment his collection. When it was clear we weren't
going to, he said, "So, gentlemen. What can I do for you?"
"First off, Mr. Talcott, this is my associate Henry
Parker. My apologies for not introducing him earlier."
"Parker," Talcott said. "Where have I heard that name
before?"
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"It's a pretty common surname," I replied.
"Any relation to Peter Parker?" Talcott asked.
"You mean Spider-Man?"
"Is that the character's name? I could have sworn I
knew someone else named Parker. In any event, your
name does ring a bell."
I looked at Jack, hoping we could move on. He seemed
to get the nod.
"Mr. Talcott," he said, "do you manage the property at
sixteen-twenty Avenue of the Americas?"
"I do," Talcott said.
"Are you aware of a company called 718 Enterprises
that, up until recently, occupied space in that building?"
Talcott took a moment before responding, "No."
Jack's eyebrows raised. "You're saying there was
never a company at that location with the name 718 Enterprises, or anything similar to that?"
"Yes," he said.
"Yes, there was a company, or yes there was not?"
"There was no company with that name at that location."
Jack turned to me, shifting his whole body. I realized
Jack had never seen the sign for the company, he hadn't
witnessed the young men marching in and out of the
building with full bags. I was the only witness, at least
the only one who was on our side.
"Mr. Talcott, do you read the news?"
"Of course I do. I'm quite fond of Mr. O'Donnell's
work, as I said."
"Do you read it regularly?"
"I would say so."
"Well, then do you recognize the name Stephen
Gaines? Or a company called 718 Enterprises?"
This time Talcott's "no" was hesitant. There was rec-68
Jason Pinter
ognition on his face, but he wasn't about to incriminate
himself.
"Let me give you a little backstory. Stephen Gaines
was murdered a few weeks ago. Shot in the head in a
dingy apartment in Alphabet City. It was in the news
quite a bit, especially after the primary suspect was
cleared."
"That does ring a bell," Talcott said. "So much strife
in the news these days, who can remember a name? But
the case does sound familiar. Boy's father was accused
of the crime, wasn't he?"
"That's right. Want to know something else?" I said.
Talcott seemed unsure of how to respond, so he simply
said, "Sure."
"Stephen Gaines was my brother."
"I--I'm sorry to hear that. My condolences."
"See, my brother worked with those two guys, Scott
Callahan and Kyle Evans. And my brother confided everything in me." This part was BS. We'd had one conversation lasting thirty seconds and I didn't even know he
was my brother at the time. "And he told me that Scott
and Kyle were employed--that's a loose term--by 718
Enterprises. Who worked out of your building. Now, if
you still don't remember them I can get you the documentation and you'll see it at the same time we print it." I
looked at Talcott's desk. Saw a photo of him with a
woman and young boy on a beach, all three beaming. "I
don't know how I'd explain to my son why Daddy's
picture is all over the news."
Talcott turned a ghastly shade of white, and rocked back
in his chair. The chair, unfortunately, did not lean back with
him, and he nearly toppled over before righting himself.
Talcott cleared his throat before suddenly leaning
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down to rummage under his desk. I felt my fingers gripping the sides of the chair--was he going for a gun?
My nerves quieted when I saw what Talcott was reaching for a bottle of Glenfiddich single malt, aged twentyone years. Slightly less dangerous than a gun, though
from the shaking of his hands my guess was that after