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freezer and find the body of that nanny I fired several years ago. This is serious.”
    “No, it’s not about Michael. It’s about Alex.”

Chapter 6

    Chapter 6
    New York City

    I t was by accident that Michael had first seen her.
    About a year ago, the night before his speech and Applegarden’s murder, he passed her in the lobby of the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills. He remembered her because of her striking good looks; she was exceptionally tall and fit.
    Was this the woman he now saw before him? She reached out to shake his hand.
    “Mr. Nicholas, Cynthia Scotto, I’m a financial reporter for the Financial Times . I heard your speech last year in L.A. and I’m doing a follow-up article.”
    Michael recalled his conversation with Karen, who said Scotto had called the day before and, due to an urgent deadline, pleaded for an appointment to interview him, promising a positive story.
    “Ms. Scotto. It’s so good to meet you.” Michael looked into her cold grey eyes.
    “Please, it’s Cynthia—actually Sindy with an S—and I’m delighted to finally meet you. I must say, your speech took a lot of guts.”
    “First, please call me Michael. I guess I did cause a lot of uproar. I’m just glad I had the opportunity to speak my mind about all the damage these hedge funds and some of these Wall Street types are doing to good companies and the people in them.”
    “Well, the press certainly loved it. You’ve become a celebrity at the Financial Times .”
    He motioned toward a chair around the coffee table. “Please, have a seat.”
    She sat down while he seated himself on the chair across the table, opposite her.
    “And then to have your chairman die in his sleep that night at the hotel. That must have been quite a shock.” She stared into Michael’s eyes; her smile had disappeared.
    “It was a tragedy, no question,” he said, now slightly troubled. Financial Times reporters didn’t typically venture into the more human or sensational topics.
    “Yet, as tragic as it was, it did open the door for you to move into his position.”
    “I hope this interview—and your story—will be about the substance of the business issue I spoke about and not the more unfortunate passing of our former chairman.”
    “Of course, anyway, we’re not even on the record yet, as they say. Believe me, we’ll move on soon.”
    He didn’t want to acknowledge that he may have remembered her from the hotel the night before his speech but he was still curious to find out if it was really her. “So I hope—besides my speech—that you had a chance to enjoy L.A. while you were out there.”
    “Oh, I did. I’ve spent a lot of time on the West Coast, before I was a reporter.”
    “I’m curious, where does the Financial Times put up a reporter in L.A. on a trip like that?”
    “Nowhere special, I can assure you. But I did get out to some of the hot spots and restaurants while I was there. I had a few really great dinners on that trip.”
    “I’m always interested in new restaurants. Where’d you eat?”
    “Well, neither of them is new, but they’re both excellent. I had sushi at Matsuhisa on La Cienega.”
    “I love Matsuhisa, actually there’s a little place in Westport called Matsu that, I think, is right up there.”
    “I’ll have to get out to Westport, it seems all you financial types live there… I also had a business dinner at the Belvedere, the night before your speech.”
    “Isn’t that the restaurant in the Peninsula?”
    “Yes, as a matter of fact—and what a gorgeous hotel. I wish they’d put me up there. I’ll bet the rooms are beautiful.”
    He knew for sure now that she was the woman in the lobby, but something was wrong about her. Michael had been interviewed hundreds of times over the years; he’d learned to quickly read a reporter’s personality. She didn’t fit the Financial Times mold. She was much too social, too chatty. She was either trying to lull him into a false sense of security, or