55
Exactly thirty-eight minutes later, Laurie watched from the passenger seat of the production van as Kendra walked east on 8th Street and turned right on Cooper Square. Kendra waited for the light to change and made her way to the small, triangular park made from what used to be a concrete traffic median.
“Almost there,” Kendra said. “Hope you can hear me.”
At Laurie’s direction, Nick called Kendra’s cell phone, let it ring one time, and hung up. It was the signal they had agreed on to confirm that the audio was transmitting to the van.
Laurie’s phone buzzed. The text was from Jerry. She’s here! I have a good angle. You guys?
Laurie hopped up and joined Nick and Leo in the back of the van. Jerry was operating a small dash-mounted camera from his vehicle, but Laurie was depending on Nick for the better footage. Nick was capturing Kendra on video with a long-zoom lens. The camera was mounted on the exterior of the van, hidden inside of a roof-mounted rig. She watched on the screen as Kendra arrived at the traffic median as planned.
Good here too, she texted back.
They had never done something this clandestine before. New York required the consent of only one party in order to record a conversation. Thanks to Kendra’s cooperation, they might finally be able to prove whatever role Joe Brenner played in Martin Bell’s death.
Two minutes after Kendra arrived, a solidly built man in a navy blue hoodie approached from the north, his hands in his pockets. As Kendra and Brenner began to speak, Laurie signaled to Nick and pointed to her ear. They needed more volume. Nick turned a dial, and soon they could hear the conversation clearly.
“We had a deal,” Brenner said. “You were the one who decided to do this show. You were supposed to keep me out of it. Now I’m getting a phone call from the producer. You owe me an explanation.”
“I swear, it wasn’t me. Laurie Moran called me today out of the blue. She told me she knows who killed Martin. And then she texted me this photograph.” Kendra held up the screen of her phone and showed Brenner the photograph Laurie had sent moments earlier. The time stamp would line up to the story Kendra was feeding Brenner if he decided to inspect the photograph more closely. Instead, he gave it a cursory glance. It was Brenner’s head shot from the home page of his private investigator website.
“She give you my name?” Brenner asked.
Laurie physically crossed her fingers, hoping that Kendra was a competent liar.
“No,” Kendra said quickly. “Just a photograph. Like I said, I made an excuse to hang up and was about to call you when you reached me first.”
“What else did the TV people say?” Brenner asked.
“They asked me whether I was ever approached by a private investigator about the affair I suspected Martin was having. Of course, I told them no. Everyone had been treating me like a looney tune, even before Martin’s death. They were all so convinced that I fabricated the affair from scratch. But then after I called you, I realized the truth. You’re the private investigator they were talking about. Maybe whoever hired you to befriend me told the producers about you. That show is going to prove that you killed Martin.”
He laughed bitterly. “You might be as crazy as you were five years ago if you think I’m the one who killed your husband.”
“All these years, I thought you were just a dangerous stranger that I was stupid enough to trust with my problems. But it’s no coincidence that you made those tapes of me complaining about my marriage. You were sent there—hired by a client. Who was it? Daniel Longfellow?”
He scoffed. “It’s just you and me here, Kendra. After all these years, I’d love to know the truth. You mean to tell me you didn’t have anything to do with taking out your husband?”
“Of course not,” she insisted. “I think you did it!”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree with that one, sister. Look, it sounds to me like the producers don’t know a thing. Keep your mouth shut like we agreed. I’ll let you know when it’s time for the next payment.” He started to walk away, but Kendra called out after him.
“The producers never told me your name, but I figured it out, Mr. Brenner.”
Brenner’s lips were moving, but he had stepped too far away from Kendra. They couldn’t hear him over the sounds of passing cars.
Kendra spoke again. “After the producer sent me that picture of you, I uploaded it into a Google Images search. Your website came up right away. Your name is Joe Brenner. You have a private eye license that you probably don’t want to lose.” She took three steps toward him. Even on the screen, Laurie could see the fear in her face, but Kendra must have remembered what they had told her about keeping the recorder close to Brenner. “You have been threatening for years to turn those recordings of me over to the police. But a good cop might suspect that you’re the one who killed my husband, all so you could drain me of money until I go to my grave.”
“Be very careful, Kendra. I don’t respond well to threats.”
“You’re a bully. You’ve known all along that I was innocent, but you’ve been blackmailing me for five years. It ends today. Just tell me the truth, and we can go our separate ways. Otherwise, I’m going to the police to tell them everything I know, and let the chips fall where they may.”
Brenner smiled and shook his head, but said nothing. He snatched the phone from Kendra’s hand and inspected it.
“Just what I was afraid of,” Laurie sighed. “He knows she’s recording him.”
He began to pat down the front of Kendra’s dress, but she recoiled from his touch. They heard the sounds of a struggle and a loud “Stop!” come through the audio feed.
Brenner suddenly stood up straight and began turning in a methodical circle. His gaze did a double take when he spotted their van, with the roof mount.
“He made us,” Leo said.
Before Laurie knew what she was doing, she was opening the back door of the van.
“Laurie, no!” her father called out.
“Dad, he won’t shoot me in front of a rolling camera. Just keep filming!”
An approaching taxi laid on its horn as Laurie sprinted across the street.