The Naked Man — Chapter 15

The next morning, Kat made her way over to Bay Ridge and found the black Honda Civic in its usual spot, two blocks from Emma’s apartment. Getting back into Manhattan was the usual snarl of blaring cab horns, endless traffic lights, and people jaywalking at every opportunity. Traffic signals were never an order in New York City, they were more of a suggestion.

At nine o’clock, Kat found Mrs. Felicia Reynolds, or The Wife as Kat called her, where her husband said she would be, in the Elysium Spa. He said it was the only appointment he knew of because the spa had called to confirm, and he had happened to answer the phone.

Katerina circled the block like a gerbil on a horizontal wheel and the car’s merry-go-round pattern matched her thoughts. Her father was lazing in Shangri-la with his nail technician/prostitute girlfriend. Her mother, à la Blanche Dubois, was living off the kindness of strangers. And I’m teetering toward the edge of financial and educational ruin and preparing to remedy my problems by committing a crime. Suddenly remembering she also had a paper due on Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself” by the end of the week, she cursed silently.

Coming around the block again, she caught sight of The Wife exiting the spa and slipping into the back seat of a Lincoln Town Car.

“Shit!” Kat yelled, slamming on her brakes to avoid being creamed by a taxi. Her excellent driving skills were rewarded with a chorus of angry horns. As the noise blared around her, she realized how ridiculous this was. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing, and she didn’t know a thing about surveillance. I’m not a damned PI, she thought. Why hadn’t Reynolds hired one? Because, genius, if he had, you wouldn’t have a job. The Town Car pulled out into traffic. She had no choice but to follow.

•••

By the end of the morning, it became clear that Mrs. Reynolds had a lot of free time on her hands, and she spent most of it shopping. Her morning consisted of climbing in and out of the Town Car carrying packages from Saks, Neiman Marcus, and Louis Vuitton. Kat considered telling Mr. Reynolds to get his wife a generous Amex gift card and be done with it.

At the last stop, Kat lucked into a parking spot and slid in, missing a Buick by an inch. She scanned the storefront signs. The Town Car stood idling in front of a small theatre while The Wife entered the West End Repertory Company. Aha, Kat thought, now we’re getting somewhere. Mrs. Reynolds is a patron of the arts.

She kept a sharp eye on the door to the theatre. Her thoughts wandered until one distinct thought popped into her mind. Turn around. Go back. Don’t do this. Don’t do any of this. The clarity of the thought surprised and frightened her. She pushed it away. No. I can’t give up. I won’t give up. I need to make this work.

The Town Car pulled away. Kat shot up in her seat. She had been watching. The Wife hadn’t come out of the theatre. The driver had never gotten out of the car. The passenger door had never opened. Just to be sure she sat for another hour even though she knew it was useless. Where was Felicia Reynolds? What had happened to her?