Myron started walking back. He had parked his car in a crowded theater lot by Times Square. “What?”

“The network sent me home on their private jet.”

“Whoa, big-time.”

“I just landed at Teterboro.”

“Did you get the job?” he asked.

“I’ll hear soon.”

Myron stopped on the corner. Should he walk back to his car or catch a taxi? “Are you on your way to the apartment, then?”

“I am.”

“Wanna do the nasty?” he asked.

“Wow, I take it back. You are smooth.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s most definitely a yes.”

“You can’t see,” Myron said, “but I’m sprinting to the car right now.”

“Faster,” she said, before hanging up.

* * *

Myron parked his car in the underground lot behind the Dakota. When he started up the dark ramp, three men appeared. The one in the middle he recognized. It was Rhys’s dad, Chick Baldwin. The other two wore jeans and flannel shirts. They were big and trying to look bigger. One carried a baseball bat.

“I told you to let it go,” Chick said.

Myron sighed. “Are you for real?”

“I warned you to forget those texts, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Well?”

“And I didn’t listen,” Myron said. “Can we move this along? I kinda have plans. Big plans.”

Chick used his hand to slick back his hair. “Did you think I was, what, playing with you?”

“I don’t know, Chick, and I really don’t care. So what’s your next step?” Myron pointed out the two men in flannel shirts. “Are these two monkeys supposed to rough me up?”

“Who you calling ‘monkey’?” asked Monkey with the Bat.

“Yeah,” Batless Monkey chimed in. “You’re the monkey, not us.”

Myron tried not to sigh. “Do you gentlemen see that up there?” He pointed above their heads. When the two monkeys looked up, Myron kicked the one holding the bat in the balls, snatching away the bat before said monkey folded like a beach chair. Myron looked at Batless Monkey. Batless Monkey thought that this might be a good time to retreat and did so with gusto.

Myron looked at Chick.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Chick said.

“Why did you bring them?”

“To make you pay attention, I guess.”

“I’m paying attention now.”

Chick moved to the former bat-carrying monkey and bent down to help him. “You’re more like Brooke’s psycho cousin than I realized.”

“Chick?”

“What?”

“I’m on my way somewhere very special,” Myron said. “I will definitely and without hesitation whack you with this bat if you don’t move out of my way.”

“Just go,” Chick said.

Myron studied his face for a moment and realized something. “You’re mad because I talked to Nancy Moore about your texts.”

“I told you not to, right? I practically begged you.”

“That’s not the point, Chick.”

“What is?”

“Only one way you could know I did that. Nancy Moore told you.”

Myron Bolitar, Master of Deduction, strikes again.

Chick said nothing. Myron moved toward him and helped the former bat wielder to his feet. Myron told the man to skedaddle. He did as requested, albeit with a bit of a limp. Myron turned his attention back to Chick.