Manhattan Is My Beat (Rune 1)

"He said that?" Rune asked excitedly.

Emily nodded.

"We've got to find him," Rune said.

"Will you turn him in to the police?" Emily asked.

Rune was going to say no. But she stopped herself.

You only lie to people who can control you.

"I don't know. I think I believe he didn't kill Mr. Kelly. I want to talk to him first. But where is he? How can we find him?"

Emily said, "If I knew I wouldn't be here now."

"Is there anything there?" Rune nodded toward the mail Emily had been looking through.

"No, it's mostly just Dear Occupant.... The only lead I've got is the name of his bank. I tried calling them to see if they had an address but they wouldn't talk to me."

Rune was thinking about another movie she'd seen a few years ago. Who was in it? De Niro? Harvey Keitel? The actor--a private eye--had bluffed his way into a bank and got

ten information.

Maybe it was Sean Connery.

"Look, you don't understand ... The man is dying! For God's sake, give me his address. Here's his account number."

"Sir, I can't. It's against policy."

"Hell with your policy. A man's life is at stake."

"You have the account number?" she asked Emily.

"No."

"Well, how about the branch?"

"I've got that."

"That should be all we need."

"I don't think they'll give you any information."

"You'd be surprised. I can be extremely persuasive."

Rune wiped her eyes--thinking how Stephanie, the only real actress she knew--would do it.

"I'm sorry. But it's really, really important."

The young man was a vice president of the bank but he looked young enough to be a clerk at a McDonald's, what with that wimp mustache and baby-smooth cheeks.

It was the next morning, nine-thirty, and the branch had just opened. The lobby surrounding them was deserted.

The vice president seemed uncomfortable with this young woman sitting in front of his desk, crying. He scanned his desktop helplessly then looked back at Rune. "He's not getting his bank statements? Any of them?"

"None. He's very upset. Grandfather's such a tense man. I'm sure that was the reason for the stroke. He's very ... what's the word? You know."

"Fastidious?" the young man offered. "Meticulous?"