I face him.
‘Bogart DeLuca sent me, Molly.’
I look at his gun and he closes his jacket.
‘Listen. Walk two blocks south, that way. Guy on the ground.’ He reaches out to pull the van doors shut and then he says, ‘You should go now.’
What is this? I’m at the intersection. I can run east to the river, west to the park, north towards Yorkville. But I head south. My senses are on high alert. Why didn’t he just call me if he wanted me? Leave a message at the hotel?
Guy on the ground? What does that even mean? James Kandee and I have ways to communicate, codes rooted in the language KT and I used as kids, but guy on the ground doesn’t make any sense to me.
I pass by a building covered in scaffolding and past a homeless guy with a paper cup.
‘It’s me,’ says the guy.
I turn back.
‘Come closer,’ he says.
‘Bogart?’ I say. ‘Or is it Peter Hill?’
‘Bogart.’
‘What happened to you?’
‘Come closer and squat down,’ he says through gritted teeth. His skin is dirty and his clothes are torn. ‘Come close.’
I squat down.
‘Put money in the cup, Molly.’
I put a dollar bill in the cup.
‘You need to get out. It’s not safe here for you no more.’ His Brooklyn accent is back.
‘What do you mean?’
‘What I said. You need to leave.’
‘I’m flying home tomorrow,’ I say. ‘Is it the guy who murdered Scott? You think I’m in danger?’
He looks at me with an impatient, disappointed expression and says, ‘The picture, Molly. My contacts found out earlier today. The damn picture.’
I shrug.
A couple walk close and Bogart says, ‘Just a coupla dollars for a shelter, lady. God bless you.’ They pass on by.
‘Picture?’
DeLuca looks left and right. ‘Picture of Katie outside the professor’s house out near Rye. That ring any bells?’
I try not to change my expression.
‘Lawyers are involved. Smart, expensive lawyers. That picture was scrutinised, and, even though it was just Polaroid, they noticed it.’
Shit.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bogart.’
‘Yeah, you do.’
‘I need to leave.’
‘The pumpkin, Molly. You took your sexy photo in his garden and you burnt the rest but in the background of the shot there’s a very noticeable pumpkin. A jack-o’-lantern. It isn’t real clear with the naked eye but once the image is cleaned up, zoomed in, expensive software . . . bam, there it is.’
‘I don’t know what you mean?’
‘What I mean is that Mrs Professor Groot was pretty confused when her legal team told her this piece of information, owing to the fact that the Groots only carved and placed out their organic Wholefoods pumpkin two days earlier. Meaning Katie was already dead. Meaning it was actually you who went into their garden, Molly, up in Greenhaven, real nice area, and you took the photos pretending to be Katie, and dated them, and burnt most of them. It means, Molly, that the professor and his wife took the matter straight to the cops. Their divorce isn’t happening no more but you can be damn sure Martinez is on your case. It doesn’t look good. What the hell were you thinking?’
‘I . . . I don’t know, I was – I’m in shock still. You know? PTSD or whatever. I wasn’t thinking straight.’
How could I have been so reckless? I thought I could pull this off. I’m useless. My God. And Kandee seems more powerful than I thought. He finds out everything.
‘I thought he hurt my sister,’ I say, blurting out the words. ‘Maybe he killed her. The police weren’t making any progress and I wanted to see him hurt.’
‘Martinez is gonna grill you real good,’ he says.
‘Why did you book my suite in Violet’s name?’
‘What?’
‘Why did you do that?’
‘We don’t have time.’
‘Why?’
‘One of a hundred tactics to delay, stall, throw shade, mask the scent. Same as why I switched to the name Peter Hill in the park that time. Lip-readers, bugs, covert surveillance. You have to assume someone’s always on your tail. It’s part of a larger strategy which you have now wrecked. Now listen carefully. You have to leave today, Molly.’
‘OK,’ I say. ‘OK, I get it. I’ll leave.’
‘Give me your phone.’
‘What? Why?’