Chapter 3 - A DEBT WRITTEN IN SOMEONE ELSE'S NAME
Cora found her father's apartment empty.
The door was unlocked.
A cup of coffee sat untouched beside the kitchen sink.
His jacket hung behind the door.
His keys remained on the counter.
Arthur Whitaker never went anywhere without his keys.
Not since his memory had begun giving him trouble after a minor stroke two years earlier.
"Dad?"
No answer.
She walked through the apartment.
The bedroom was empty.
The bathroom light was on.
A chair had been overturned beside the dining table.
Cora's pulse accelerated.
She reached for her phone.
Then noticed an envelope beneath the sugar jar.
Her name was written across the front.
Inside was a document.
DEBT ASSIGNMENT — WHITAKER ESTATE.
The amount was eighty-six thousand dollars.
The creditor was a holding company called Northstar Fine Arts.
The original debtor was listed as Elena Whitaker.
Her deceased mother.
Cora stared at the date.
The agreement had supposedly been signed four years after Elena died.
"That's impossible."
She read it again.
The signature looked like her mother's handwriting.
But the date made the document absurd.
Someone had forged a dead woman's signature.
And Felix had used that fabricated debt to persuade Cora to serve drinks at the auction.
Cora called the police.
Then she called Felix.
He answered immediately.
"Cora."
"Where's my father?"
A pause.
"Why would I know?"
"Because you know something about that painting."
Felix sighed.
"You're upset."
"Where is he?"
"Cora, I suggest you calm down."
She felt an unfamiliar anger settle over her.
"Don't speak to me like I'm a child."
Silence.
Then Felix said, "Your father has made some unfortunate decisions."
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
"What decisions?"
"He held on to things that didn't belong to him."
"The painting?"
Felix didn't answer.
"Is he alive?"
Another pause.
Then Felix replied, "That depends on whether you can recover what was taken from the auction."
The line went dead.
At eleven thirty, Cora stood inside a police precinct giving her statement.
She described the forged debt.
The auction.
The shooting.
The man who kissed her.
The security chief who forced her into a car.
And the threatening phone call.
The detective listened without interrupting.
His name was Daniel Keene.
He had a tired face and a pen that kept skipping.
When she finished, he asked one question.
"Did you hear anybody say Julian Voss?"
Cora frowned.
"No."
Keene showed her a photograph.
The man in the black suit.
The black eyes.
The face she had been trying to forget.
"That's him," she whispered.
Keene nodded.
"Julian Voss."
Cora stared.
She knew the name.
Everybody in New York knew the name.
The Undertaker.
A man rumored to control several waterfront businesses and a criminal organization with interests stretching from Brooklyn to New Jersey.
The man who had kissed her.
The man who had ordered nothing, explained nothing, and looked at her as though she were disposable.
"Is he connected to Felix?"
Keene nodded cautiously.
"We're investigating several relationships."
Cora swallowed.
"Can he help find my father?"
The detective studied her.
"Possibly. But we shouldn't assume he's safe to approach."
"I wasn't planning to."
She meant it.
Until her phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
MISS WHITAKER. YOUR FATHER IS ALIVE. DO NOT GO BACK TO YOUR APARTMENT.
A second message followed.
— JULIAN VOSS
Cora stared.
Then showed the detective.
He read the messages.
His expression changed.
"How did he get your number?"
Cora shook her head.
"I have no idea."
The phone rang.
Julian Voss.
Cora answered.
"What do you want?"
His voice was low.
"To apologize."
She nearly laughed.
"For what? The kiss? The kidnapping? Or finding my phone number without permission?"
A silence.
"All three deserve an explanation."
"Then start with my father."
Julian exhaled.
"Arthur Whitaker was seen entering a building owned by Felix Mercer this morning."
"Where?"
"I've given that information to the police."
Cora closed her eyes.
"Why are you helping me?"
Julian's answer surprised her.
"Because I think Felix sent you into that room for a reason."
She looked toward the detective.
"What reason?"
May you like
Julian paused.
Then said, "Somebody wanted me to kiss the wrong woman."
