17 The Scarpetta Factor by Patricia Cornwell

17 The Scarpetta Factor by Patricia Cornwell

Author:Patricia Cornwell
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Scarpetta
Published: 2010-09-03T20:48:42+00:00


“How did you first meet Hannah?” she asked.

“The Monkey Bar, where a lot of Hollywood people hang out,” he said. “She was in

there one night and we started talking. She was really smart about money, told me all

kinds of stuff I didn’t know shit about.”

“And you know what happened to her three weeks ago,” Berger said, and Lucy listened

intensely.

“I have a pretty good idea. I think somebody did something. You know, she pissed

people off.”

“Who did she piss off?” Berger asked.

“You got a phone book? Let me go through it.”

“A lot of people,” Berger said. “You’re saying she pissed off almost everybody she

met?”

“Including me. I admit. She always wanted her way about everything. She had to have

her own way about absolutely everything.”

“You’re talking about her as if she’s dead.”

“I’m not na?ve. Most people think something bad happened to her.”

“You don’t seem upset about the possibility she might be dead,” Berger said.

“Sure it’s upsetting. I didn’t hate her. I just got tired of her pushing me and pushing me.

Chasing me and chasing me, if you want me to be honest. She didn’t like to be told no.”

“Why did she give you your money back—actually, four times your original investment?

Two million dollars. That’s quite a return on your investment in only a year.”

Another shrug. “The market was volatile. Lehman Brothers was going belly-up. She

called me and said she was recommending I pull out, and I said whatever you think. Then

I got the wire. And later on? Damn if she wasn’t right. I would have lost everything, and

I’m not making millions and millions yet. I’m not A list yet. Whatever I have left over

after expenses, I sure as hell don’t want to lose.”

“When was the last time you had sex with Hannah?” Berger was taking notes on the

legal pad again, conscious of Lucy, of her stoni ness, of the way she was staring at Hap

Judd.

He had to think. “Uh, okay. I remember. After that call. She told me she was pulling my

money out, and could I drop by and she’d explain what was going on. It was just an

excuse.”

“Drop by where?”

“Her house. I dropped by, and one thing led to another. That was the last time. July, I

think. I was heading off to London, and anyway, she has a husband. Bobby. I wasn’t all

that comfortable at her house when he was there.”

“He was there on that occasion? When she asked you to drop by before you headed to

London?”

“Uh, I don’t remember if he was that time. It’s a huge house.”

“Their house on Park Avenue.”

“He was hardly ever home.” Judd didn’t answer the question. “Travels all the time in

their private jets, back and forth to Europe, all over the place. I got the impression he

spends a lot of time in South Florida, that he’s into the Miami scene, and they’ve got this

place there on the ocean. He’s got an Enzo down there. One of those Ferraris that costs

more than a million bucks. I don’t really know him. I’ve met him a few times.”

“Where did you meet him and when?”

“When I started investing with their company a little over a year ago.



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