“So you’re suggesting at least two other possible suspects.”
Sunny opened her mouth, on the verge of also mentioning the Russian cigarettes, but then decided against it. All she had was a foreign cigarette filter suggesting that someone had been watching Martin. Given Martin’s habits, that watcher could have been a detective getting the goods for a suspicious spouse. A detective with weird smoking habits, but still . . .
Tobe looked at her. “Did you want to add something?”
“Only that Jane also mentioned to me that Martin had a habit of approaching some better-off clients for money.”
Tobe frowned thoughtfully. “Do you think he was spreading his charm there, too?”
Jane’s cheeks went pink. “Probably.”
The lawyer stood. “If you haven’t guessed it by now, I’m taking this case.” He outlined some of the practicalities and gave Jane some papers to sign. “If Fitch or Trumbull comes at you again, refer them to me,” he said. “I know it’s not easy, having your life stirred around like this. But you will come through it.”
“Thanks,” Jane said, taking his hand. “For the first time in a week, I feel as if I can really breathe.”
Two quick raps sounded on the door, and an anxious-looking young woman poked her head in, waving some papers.
“Now I’ve got to get back to the present emergency,” Tobe Phillips apologized. “Can you find your way out?”
They made their way to the reception area. As they did, an elevator opened and a guy came out, carrying a bulging briefcase—more papers apparently. Sunny dashed up and stopped the doors from closing. They stepped aboard.
In the elevator, Sunny said, “Well, that was a surprise.”
Jane nodded. “A nice one, for once.”
They got downstairs, outside, and into Jane’s car. Sunny pulled out her cell phone. “I just want to check the office machine. Make sure there are no last-minute calls.”
She dialed the number for the MAX office, got the answering machine, and punched in the code for messages.
“Damn,” she muttered. “One message.”
“This is, ah, Larry,” an unfamiliar voice said, obviously flustered at dealing with a machine. “From, ah, Portsmouth Tobacconists. That gentleman you asked about? He’s coming in tonight.”
“Damn, damn, damn,” Sunny groaned.
“There’s somewhere we have to get—and quickly,” she told Jane, giving her directions to the shop. “I’ll explain while we drive.”
In between telling Jane about the exotic cigarette and where she’d found it, Sunny punched in the number for Portsmouth Tobacconists. “Hello, Larry, this is the lady with the twenty. Thanks for calling me. Has the gentleman shown up?”
“Ah, no,” Larry said, sounding nervous.
“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. If he comes before then, stall him.”
She hung up on Larry asking how he could do that.
They arrived at the tobacco store, and Jane looked for parking while Sunny went in, checking that the place was empty. Larry jittered behind the counter, a lot less chatty this evening.
“Has he been here yet?” Sunny asked.
Larry shook his head.
“You have nothing to worry about. I’ll be outside. When the guy comes in, you can—”
“I thought you knew him,” Larry interrupted.
“It’s just that it’s sort of dark outside,” Sunny improvised. “I’d hate to miss him.”
“At his size, I think he’d be hard to miss,” Larry said.
Sunny hurried back outside, where Jane had gotten a space across the street from the store. Not long after, it was clear that the man in question had arrived, and Sunny could see what Larry meant about him being hard to miss: This character added a football linebacker’s width to a basketball forward’s height. His head and shoulders almost brushed the top of the door frame, and a gray herringbone overcoat like a big wool tent flapped around him.
“Yow!” Jane said.
Sunny had to agree. “So much for the theory about smoking stunting your growth.” She peered through the windshield. “Okay, he was in the blue SUV that passed us and parked down the block. That means he may pull a U-turn to go back the way he came.”
“Have you done this before?” Jane asked. “Because if you have, you can drive.”
For a second, Sunny debated spinning a tale to make Jane feel better, but then decided on the truth. “This is my first time, too,” she said. “But if he makes the U-turn, give him some space before you try it. And don’t ride on his rear bumper.”
Jane stared at her. “I guess they teach you some weird things in journalism school.”
Sunny laughed. “J-school, hell. That’s from watching cop shows.”
The guy came out, a carton of smokes tucked under one massive arm. He walked down the block to the SUV and got in, making the big vehicle rock for a moment. A second later, the truck’s rear lights lit up, and it pulled out into the street, heading to the corner and making a right.
“Okay, start,” Sunny said. “He can’t see us now, but we’d better get back in sight of him.”
