Falco shook his head. “Name’s Neal Ramsey. Former Army Special Forces. Now he’s doing private work.”

Kerri entered his name into a search box and scanned the results. “At least we know what he looks like.” She turned the image on her screen toward her partner. “Tall, blond buzz cut. Midforties.”

Falco made the turn that would take them to Twentieth. “Looks like the hard-ass type.”

“I doubt he’ll be inclined to play with us.” She put her phone away.

Falco pulled to the curb down the block from the vintage diner. “I guess we’ll just have to ask him what we want to know.”

“The trick will be getting him to answer,” Kerri pointed out.

“Touché.”

Every single table in the diner was occupied. Neal Ramsey sat alone at the back, facing the front of the establishment. He seemed to be multitasking like most folks these days, scrolling on his phone while mindlessly devouring his lunch.

She and Falco walked straight back to his table and pulled out the two empty chairs across the expanse of Formica from Ramsey.

“You don’t mind company, do you?” Kerri asked with a glance around the place.

Ramsey wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “No problem, Detectives.”

She and Falco exchanged a smile.

“You psychic or something?” Falco asked.

“I know cops when I see them.” Ramsey reached for the bottle of water next to his plate.

“Oh.” Falco nodded, his gaze glued to his phone; then he looked up at Ramsey. “You probably saw that big news conference on Saturday. We’re investigating the murders at the Abbott home.”

“We’re concerned that his missing wife may be in danger.” Kerri took it from there. “We’ve spoken to Abbott’s friend Keith Bellemont. We’re hoping you might be able to help as well.”

Ramsey tossed his napkin onto the table. “Why would I be able to help?”

“You work for Bellemont,” Falco said. He slid his phone into his jacket pocket. “You must know his closest friend, Ben Abbott.” He nodded to the remaining hot dog on the man’s plate. “You going to eat that?”

Ramsey stared at him, his expression as clean as a freshly washed window. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

Falco pulled the plate to his side of the table. He sent a questioning look at Kerri. She shook her head.

While Falco wolfed down the rest of the man’s lunch, she extended her hand across the table. “I’m Detective Kerri Devlin, and this is my partner, Detective Luke Falco.”

Ramsey gave her hand a brief shake. “I watch the news. I read the paper and scan online reports. So of course I’m aware of the Abbott case, but I know nothing about the family. If Abbott and Bellemont are—were—close friends, that’s news to me. I’ve worked for Mr. Bellemont for a number of years, but it has always been strictly business. I don’t have private relationships with any of the people with whom I work.”

“That’s strange.” Falco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I was under the impression you did a couple of small jobs for Abbott Options—on referral from Mr. Bellemont, of course. I’m sure you know his assistant, Marcella Gibbons, privately.”

Kerri’s gaze swung to Falco before she could stop the startled reaction. What the hell was he talking about? She quickly shifted her attention back to Ramsey.

The private investigator stared directly at Falco, his expression still clean of tells. “The two small jobs, as you say related to Abbott Options, were at the behest of another client, and I’m afraid I cannot divulge that client’s name. As you can well imagine, it’s a competitor.”

“Is that right?” Falco asked.

Ramsey smiled. “That is correct.” He pushed back his chair. “Enjoy your lunch, Detectives.”

Kerri watched him walk away before turning to her partner. “What the hell was that, Falco? You might have told me this before we walked in to meet the guy.”

He nodded as he watched Ramsey stride out of the diner. “Just got another text as we walked in here. Evidently, Ramsey was banging Ms. Gibbons, and that’s how he got the info he wanted—whatever that was.”

Kerri held up her hands. “Who the hell told you this? Who is this contact?”

“My go-to girl. The one I told you about.” His gaze landed on Kerri. “She knows people. She has ways of finding out shit like nobody you’ve ever seen.”

Contacts, informants, they were useful tools to a cop, no doubt. Kerri had her share, but it wasn’t always possible to trust all the intel. More often than not, you had to sift through it for the good stuff. “You’re certain you can trust this information?”

“I’d bet my life.” His gaze held hers, the certainty there underscoring his words.

“I guess we need to have a chat with Ms. Gibbons before we finish checking out the pawnshops.”

“You want to eat first?”

She laughed. “Since you already did, I’ll grab a hot dog on the way out.”

“I could handle another one.”

Kerri shook her head. Maybe landing this new partner hadn’t been such a bad thing after all.

Abbott Options

First Avenue South

Marcella Gibbons sank into the chair behind her desk. “It was months ago.”

Her face had lost any semblance of color, and her hands shook as she fussed with the collar of her blouse.

“We need to know exactly when and for how long”—Kerri chose her words carefully—“you were involved with Mr. Ramsey.”

“I met him on Saint Patrick’s Day at that Irish pub between Eleventh and Twelfth. Brennan’s. We . . .” She shrugged. “We hit it off, and we dated for a few weeks. I stopped going out with him last month.”

“Were you aware he worked for Keith Bellemont?”

She shook her head. “He never told me that. He said he was a private security specialist. He told me all the things I needed to do to make my apartment safer.”

“Why did you stop seeing him?” Kerri asked.

“He started asking me questions about work. Just the odd question here and there. Nothing too specific.” She moistened her lips. “But then I got out of the shower one night and found him looking through my desk.” She drew in a deep breath. “He said he was looking for a pen, but I didn’t believe him.”

Falco gave her a nod. “Understandable. Did the two of you ever go to his place, or did you always go to yours?”

She swallowed hard. “We always went to my place. He usually had some excuse why we couldn’t go to his place. I realized later that the reason was because he wanted to go to my place. He was looking for things.”

“Did you ever leave him alone in your apartment?” It was obvious Gibbons felt terrible about the potential security breach. Still, Kerri needed as much information as she could provide.

“No. Of course not.”

“But you did shower,” Falco countered, “maybe more than once. Basically leaving him with a few minutes to look wherever he wanted.”

“That’s true. But my phone and laptop—every device I use—is biometrically protected.”

“So you don’t keep anything in your apartment,” Falco pressed, “like a badge for Abbott Options or a key to your boss’s house.”

There was the slightest hesitation before she answered. “No. Of course not. A retinal scan is required to get into secure areas at work.”

Kerri wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “Do you have a key to the Abbott home?”

She exhaled a breath. “Yes. I keep it in my purse with my own keys.”

“So Ramsey could have taken your key and had a copy made,” Falco suggested.

“No. It was never out of my possession. Never.”

There were ways to make copies of keys without taking them anywhere. Molds that could be made on the spot and used for making a copy later. Kerri imagined the woman hadn’t considered that possibility. Even highly intelligent people could succumb to denial.

“Think about all the times you were together,” Kerri told her. “If anything at all comes to you that you feel might help with this case, please call me. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. I want to hear from you.”

“I will.” Her lips trembled. “Believe me. I want you to find the person who did this. I want Mrs. Abbott to be okay.”

Tears spilled past her lashes. Kerri gave her a moment to compose herself before asking, “Will you allow us to have one of our technicians go through your home and look for any bugs Mr. Ramsey may have planted?”

Her eyes rounded in worry. “Of course. I checked my place after that last time we were together, but I didn’t find anything.”

“You were upset,” Kerri suggested. “You may have missed something.”

“Oh my God.” She nodded. “Of course I’m more than happy to cooperate. What do I need to do?”

“Detective Falco will call for an evidence technician to come to your home. He or she will be accompanied by a uniformed officer. You meet them and allow them inside. The search won’t take long.”

She nodded. “Whatever I need to do.”

While Falco made the call, Kerri thanked her and cautioned her not to have any contact with Ramsey. If he called or showed up at her door, she was to call Kerri or Falco immediately.