“Here’s an example,” said Fellinger. “One of the partners has a crackerjack assistant, she’s been with him for years. One day she exited the ladies’ room and found Jens right outside the door. Lurking, as she called it. He didn’t move when she saw him, just stayed there. Smirking. We’re not talking the main lav which is out in the open, men’s and women’s side by side. This was a smaller unisex bathroom in the storage room. She was searching for files but Jens wasn’t. I know because I didn’t assign him to look for anything.”

Milo said, “See what you mean. So the firm looked for dirt on him.”

Fellinger frowned. “I’d prefer to call it constructive research. I assumed the primary responsibility because I’d hired him. I went over his résumé with a fine-tooth comb. Which, I’m embarrassed to say, I didn’t do the first time. He was Flora’s cousin and she gave him high accolades. Turns out he fooled everyone including Flora. At first when I told her we’d have to let him go, she wasn’t pleased, we actually had words. But then when she learned the truth, she understood. And called me later that day to apologize, turns out he’s only her third cousin, she didn’t know him that well.”

Tense chat in the parking garage.

Milo said, “What truth did she learn?”

Fellinger threw up his hands. “He lied about everything. He did attend Yale, but only for a semester, he flunked out. Playwriting was total b.s. No productions, no credits, nor did he work for any of the firms he listed.”

“What kind of firms?”

“A theatrical publisher, ad agencies. Even the law firm in New York where he’d claimed to work knew him as a client. They defended him in a battery case.”

Milo said, “A defendant who uses it for his bio. That’s pretty nervy.”

“I guess if we’d done due diligence it would’ve ended before it began. But now my main concern is Merry Santos.”

“And maybe Ursula Corey.”

“Oh, Jesus, I hope not.”

I said, “Given all his lies about employment, any idea how he’s supported himself?”

“The only bona fide job he listed,” said Fellinger, “the only one I could confirm, was—get this—cooking. He worked as a chef in a New York restaurant. Not a full chef, some sort of assistant. I talked to the manager but he wasn’t helpful beyond ‘personal issues.’ But I can guess.”

Another toss of hands. “Idiot couldn’t even hold on to a kitchen job!”

CHAPTER

31

We remained in Fellinger’s office as Milo worked his phone. John Jensen Williams’s phone account had been disconnected weeks ago.

I thought: disposables. His and hers.

Maybe his his and hers, if you factored in Richard Corey, a man who’d used untraceables for years.