“What’s wrong?”

“That was Conrad’s Rolls-Royce at the corner. He was heading west.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! He’s driving. When I spoke to him earlier he was in Connecticut. He must be spying on me.”

“He doesn’t need to spy on you. You’ve been on TV and the radio tonight! Live from the Treetops Hotel! I’m sure the Candy Man didn’t predict you’d go out for a walk.”

“Do you think he’s going down to the loft because they discovered the safe?” Lorraine asked in a panicked voice.

“Now you’re getting paranoid.”

“What else would he be doing here?”

“How am I supposed to know? You’re the one who’s married to him.”

“Not for much longer. And if he gets his hands on those letters, it’ll make his day and ruin my life!”

“All right then. We’re both freshly motivated to get this job done. I want the money for my own apartment, and you want the letters back. Let’s go.”

“What if the Reillys are home by now?”

Clay pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call them again.” He looked up recently dialed numbers and pressed the Reillys’. The connection was made and their phone began to ring. And ring and ring. “Music to my ears,” he said. “I bet they’re both out fighting crime.”

“I wish we could find a cab,” Lorraine whined.

But Sixth Avenue was pitch dark. There wasn’t a car in sight.

“The longest journey begins with a single step,” Clay pronounced as he offered Lorraine his arm. “Let’s go.”

41

C onrad had decided to drive across Central Park South on their way to Tribeca. The fact that they were passing the Treetops Hotel did not go unnoticed by his daughter. As they crossed the intersection at Sixth Avenue, Alexis screeched, “Daddy! I think I just saw Lorraine!”

“Where?” Conrad’s head almost spun around.

“Back on the corner of Sixth Avenue with some guy. It’s so dark it’s hard to tell. The lights of a passing car made them visible for about a second. They turned and went down Sixth Avenue.”

“Could be,” Conrad said, wondering who the guy was. “She’s staying right there at the Treetops. I can’t imagine why she’d be out for a stroll at this time of night when she’s staying in a luxurious air-conditioned hotel.”

Alexis shrugged. “I’m so glad you’re getting rid of her.”

Conrad patted his daughter’s hand. “Let’s not worry about Lorraine right now. Chip Jones is our concern.”

“I’ve got my eyes peeled,” Becky piped up from the back seat.

“So do I!” Alexis said. “How else would I have spotted that no good—”

“Alexis.”

“Sorry, Dad. But maybe it’s a good sign. If I can spot Lorraine during this blackout, then maybe the wretch who’s with Chip Jones will also be discovered.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“And they both should be locked up.”

42

A fter taking Regan’s call, Detective McFadden returned to the interrogation room where twenty-five-year-old Paulette Dobson was sitting at a table, her head in her hands. She was exhausted, upset, but most of all petrified. Small-boned with stringy light brown hair that needed a trim, she had a waifish quality. Her skin and eyes were pale, her features plain.