Illicit Trade

Since moving back to New York, Vermeulen had quickly adopted the empty refrigerator habits of Manhattan residents. That wasn’t a problem on most days, since there was so much prepared food available everywhere. But he didn’t feel like going out again. Besides the beer, his fridge contained a jar of pickles, four eggs, some packets of soy sauce from the Chinese place down the street, and an old bagel. That limited his culinary options. He was in the middle of frying two eggs when his phone rang again.

Without thinking, he answered. “This is Vermeulen.”

A male voice he’d never heard before said, “You wanna talk about why you visited Dr. Rosenbaum today?”

The spatula clattered on the stove top, then to the floor. He stared out the window as if the mysterious caller were right outside, looking in at him. The eggs sizzled in the hot pan.

“Hold on,” Vermeulen said and put the phone down. Who the hell was this? It obviously wasn’t the woman with the short blonde hair. And it wasn’t the doctor. He reached down to pick up the spatula. He turned down the burner. Nobody else knew he’d stopped by the doctor’s office. He tried to remember faces he’d seen on the street. There was really only one candidate—the black man who’d followed him.

He picked up the phone again. “Who are you?”

“That’s not important. What is important is you visiting the doctor. Why’d you go to him?”

“You’re the black man who bumped into me and then followed me. So don’t think for a moment I can’t find out who you are.”

The silence at the other end told him he was right.

“Okay, you saw me,” the man said. “So did many people. That don’t mean you’re gonna find out anything. But I know you talked to the doctor who’s got things to hide. So I’m thinking you’ve got things to hide, too. And that’s what I want to talk about.”

The eggs were done. Vermeulen managed to slip them onto the plate. He popped the bagel halves from the toaster, pulled over a stool, and sat down. This might take a while, and he wasn’t going to let his eggs get cold.

“Sorry,” he said, after forking a bite into his mouth. “You caught me in the middle of supper, and I hate cold eggs.” He took a sip from the bottle. “Besides, you’re operating on the wrong assumptions. I have nothing to hide. You, on the other hand, sound like an extortionist. Last I heard, that was still a crime in this country. I got your phone number on my display. It’ll only be a matter of time before the police find you.”

The last comment was pure bluster. He took a bite from the bagel and had another swig of beer.

“You’re eating while I’m trying to have a conversation with you? Man, how ’bout a little respect?”

“You’re the one who interrupted my supper. And why should I respect someone who’s trying to blackmail me?”

“I thought you were somebody else. Just forget I called.”

“No, I’m not going to do that. I’m also interested in what Rosenbaum has to hide. You seem to know something. How about telling me why you’re after him?”

He finished the eggs and wiped the remaining yolk with a piece of bagel.

“Nah, let’s just forget the whole thing, okay?” the caller said.

“No, not okay. How’d you like the Newark PD on your tail?” It was an easy guess. “Believe me, I can make that happen.”

“I said forget about it.”

“I won’t, unless you tell me what you know. Right now.”

“I’ll only do it face to face.”

“Fine with me. Be at the Azure Lounge in downtown Newark in an hour.”