Page 4 of Alex Cross Must Die

Samantha took it.

“Holmes, Marple, and Poe?” she said. “Is that a joke?”

Holmes leaned over the desk. “We’re private investigators. Andwe have important information for the commissioner.Criticalinformation.”

Samantha shifted her cold stare in his direction. “Do you have an appointment?”

Marple stepped forward. “We have intelligence on the disappearance of Sloane Stone,” she said softly. “It involves the mayor.”

Samantha tilted her head. “Sloane Stone?” Poe noticed a sudden uptick of interest. The receptionist lowered her head and tapped her touchscreen. Poe could hear her speaking tersely into her headset.

About thirty seconds later, a blond-haired woman in a dark suit walked into the reception area. She was tall and elegant. Also, Poe gathered from her body language, stern and efficient.

“I understand you have information concerning the mayor,” she said.

Poe nodded and handed her a business card. “Holmes, Marple, and Poe Investigations. Are you from the mayor’s office?”

“I’m Kristin Rove, special assistant to Mayor Rollins. Anything you have for the mayor, you can tell me.”

“Not this, I’m afraid,” said Poe.

“For the commissioner’s ears only at this point,” Marple added politely.

“Well, let me tell you how it works,” Kristin said, shifting her eyes from Marple to Holmes to Poe. “You don’t see the commissioner without going through Samantha, and you don’t see the mayor without going through me.” She glanced down at the business card. “So unless you’ve actually found Ms. Stone, you’ve come all the way from Brooklyn for nothing.” She handed the card back to Poe, then walked off.

Poe turned to Marple and nodded toward the reception desk. “You try.” It was time for a tag-team approach. Maybe Marple’s people skills would be more productive.

Poe knew that in addition to being a natural snoop, his partner was an intuitive student of human psychology. He stood back with Holmes and watched as Marple walked up to Samantha’s station and rested a hand on the polished oak top. The receptionist was clearly doing her best to ignore Marple’s presence, but she eventually looked up. “Can I help you?”

“About your age. Am I right?” said Marple.

“Who?” asked Samantha.

“Sloane Stone.”

Samantha shifted awkwardly in her seat. “I guess.” A long pause. “But I went to Queensborough Community and she went to a fancy Ivy, so I think Sloane and I are sort of on different levels.”

“Were.”

“What?”

“Were. Past tense. One of you is dead.”

Samantha blinked. “You don’t know that!”

“Actually, we do,” said Marple. “We’re very good at our job. That’s why we’re here.” She lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “The truth is, Samantha, we know more about the different kinds of human wickedness than anyone you’ve ever met.”

The receptionist stared at Marple for a second. Then she pulled off her headset, got up from her chair, and walked through a thick door behind the reception area. Success! Poe and Holmes stepped forward, poised and ready. A few seconds later, Samantha was back. She sat down and picked up her headset again.

“Sorry.” She shrugged. “Commissioner Boolin has left for the day. He must have used his private exit.”

Poe glanced at his partners. “Not a problem,” he said. “We know where he lives.”

CHAPTER 5

HEADING NORTH ONthe West Side Highway, the GTO’s 380-horsepower engine growled as Poe speed-shifted through traffic. Once they passed Riverside Park, he opened it up further.

“Think he’ll beat us home?” asked Holmes.

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