A Friend in the Glass (An Auden & O’Callaghan Mystery #3)

Chapter Fourteen

The books piled onto the sale carts outside the front doors of The Strand had always been Rufus’s favorites to dig through. He’d long ago figured out that those books, and their extremely niche subject matter, were typically hard sells with the general public, and so for very little investment, Rufus could learn a lot. And sure, he could learn the exact same things for free at the library, but sometimes picking through the once lovingly used, now abandoned, books felt sort of like he was saving them from the certain fate of ending up in a dumpster.

Rufus knew he was actually projecting his own feelings of inadequacy, his own fears of worthlessness—surely he’d have had a better childhood if he were lovable—and he knew it wasn’t healthy behavior, but he couldn’t help anthropomorphizing used books. After all, titles like Mathematical Fractals in Everyday Life , History of Irish Ballads , New York Ghost Stories , and 101 Gays of the Nineteenth Century had been some of his best friends—his only friends—before meeting Jake.

Before meeting Sam.

Rufus glanced up from his phone to study Sam seated across the table, the empty taco tray still between them. Sam had come into his life like a wrecking ball, to borrow from Miley Cyrus, and Rufus had found in him a friend. Someone who had cared about his well-being, had wanted to spend free time with him, talk with him, and Rufus had wanted to do the very same in return. Even with the somewhat rocky evolution of their relationship, and the fact that they were now romantically involved, which came with all-new complexities and complications, it didn’t negate how they’d begun, didn’t negate that Sam had believed Rufus when he’d needed it the most.

Rufus didn’t understand their situation, would have given his left nut to pretend Shareed and Lew and Del Jolly and Colonel Bridges didn’t exist so he could go home and curl up in bed with the most eclectic book in his collection, but Sam needed support.

Sam needed someone to believe him.

Rufus had a real friend now, and his real friend needed him.

“Conasauga Solutions definitely has a private plane,” Rufus said, looking back down at the Facebook business page open on his phone. He swiped through photos with corporate jargon descriptions before stopping on one of the plane parked on a tarmac with half a dozen rich-looking people standing beside its staircase. He pinched the screen to zoom in. “I’m hoping to find some sort of identification. You can pop that into a website that tracks private planes, you know.”

“Even if he’s telling the truth, it doesn’t mean he wasn’t behind what happened to Shareed. He can make a phone call from a plane just like anywhere else.”

Rufus glanced up a second time. “Can I do this before you dash my hope like a kid’s popped balloon at a birthday party?”

Sam rolled his eyes.

Rufus returned to previously posted photos on the business page before coming across a different plane photograph that gave off “Welcome to the Company” vibes. The picture was a wide shot that included the tail numbers. “Oh! Found it. Let’s see if this bad boy took a recent trip.” Rufus opened a new browser page of a radar website and inputted the numbers. “This plane flew out of Maryland Wednesday—yesterday—and landed in New York a few minutes before nine in the morning.”

He offered Sam the phone and pointed to the radar map covered in dozens of tiny planes. Underneath was a dropdown box of details relating to the tail number. “Before you ask, if Del got off the plane in the city, immediately caught a cab, and if the Morning Commute Gods were on his side, he definitely could have reached Shareed’s hotel before she’d intended to meet you. But I want to stress he’d be cutting it extremely close.”

For a silent moment, Sam studied the phone. “Or Lew could have done it for him.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Is there any way to see who was on the plane with him?”

Rufus shook his head. “No. They could have had Elvis onboard for all we know.”

“So this doesn’t tell us anything one way or another.”

Rufus took his phone back. “It tells us when some of Conasauga’s staff arrived, at least. It’s better than nothing.”

“I guess.” Sam glanced around the taqueria, checked his phone, and frowned. “When is your appointment again?”

“Two o’clock.”

“Let’s get going. I don’t want you to get bumped because we’re late.”

Rufus sighed loudly and got to his feet. He tossed their wrappers in the trash, bundled himself up against the cold, and pushed the door open. He said in a falsetto, while taking the stairs up to the sidewalk level, “And how does that make you feel, Rufus?” He turned and waited for Sam to join him before adding, “It makes me feel anxious and depressed, Dr. Donna, thanks for asking. I really can miss one appointment.”

“Nice try.”

Dr. Donna’s office was on Thirty-Fifth Street—which was only a hop, skip, and jump away—except that she was on the east side of Manhattan. And even though the avenue blocks were twice the length of the streets, and at one point Rufus had had to take Sam’s hand so he could speedwalk without losing his grumpier half, they’d managed to make it to his therapist’s office with a handful of minutes to spare. The lobby was like every other modern office building in the city—lots of glass and reflective surfaces and ugly contemporary artwork. Rufus signed Sam in with the security desk before they took the elevator. At the seventh floor it was quiet and carpeted, with subdued gold lighting that felt far more welcoming than the downstairs had.

Rufus turned left and led the way down a long hall of private offices, coming to a stop at the very end outside of a frosted glass door with DONNA FITZGERALD, LP stenciled across it. He pointed to a small, padded bench beside a stand that held a fake orchid while saying, “You can wait here. Or, I guess you can come inside.”

“I’ll wait here.” Sam cleared his throat. “Unless you want me to….”

“I don’t know if you want to hear the kind of stuff I sometimes cry about.” Rufus shrugged. He leaned close and kissed Sam. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Sam dropped onto the bench. “But I’m going to wait here.”

Rufus nodded. He tugged his beanie off and went inside without another word.