Tonya raised her sandwich in a mock toast, bit a hunk off, and headed to the stairs. She chewed angrily, letting the peanut butter glue her mouth shut so she couldn’t whirl around and ask the questions on the tip of her tongue. Why did Imani keep bringing up Nate? What did she know? What information was she really angling for? It was clear that Imani’s conversations were not simply polite small talk. Folks did not engage in casual conversation about the recently murdered.

By the time Tonya exited onto her floor, she’d finished the sandwich and fished her phone from her pocket. This arrangement with the Bankses wasn’t going to go well if Nate kept coming up. She needed living options.

She needed Layla’s money.

Tonya dialed Kelner. As usual, the lawyer’s secretary answered in a tone that didn’t promise help. Her boss was not available, the woman explained. Tonya could leave a message. “Tell Kelner that I need to see him,” Tonya said.

“Mr. Kelner is not conducting in-person consultations at the moment,” the secretary said.

“Not Kelner,” Tonya shot back. “Him.” The secretary cleared her throat. “Excuse me. Who exactly should I tell Mr. Kelner you’d like to see?”

“It’s not ‘like to see.’ It’s need.” Tonya spoke directly into the speaker. “As in, if it doesn’t happen, I’ll need to explore my other options. And don’t worry about the name,” she added. “Kelner will know.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

IMANI

Imani walked toward the promenade, mentally rehashing her conversation with Tonya to avoid considering the craziness of what she was about to do. Philip had been right, she admitted. The minute she’d brought up acting, Tonya had become extra defensive.

Not that she’d ever thought him wrong. As she crossed the street, Imani accepted that she’d wanted to rankle her tenant. The woman’s stubborn refusal to respect a reasonable rule in the interest of a twelve-year-old boy’s health was beyond insensitive. She’d thought bringing up Tonya’s failed career might remind her whose home she was in, perhaps make her a bit more humble and agreeable. Instead, the subtle dig had emboldened their young interloper. Tonya was not a woman who easily backed down.

Imani entered the tree-lined park overlooking the East River and scanned for passersby. An older woman walked a dog in front of the iron fence cordoning off the water-view brownstones. She wouldn’t be much help in a fight, Imani thought. But she might be able to call police.

No other people were visible. It was too dark. Too cold. The sun vanished before five o’clock in winter, taking with it the ten-degree temperature difference between tolerable and intolerable. No one wanted to be out once Earth’s star dipped below the horizon. Not gangsters. Not burglars. Not drug addicts.

Maybe kidnappers, though. Perhaps murderers.