Catching the Bad Guy (Book Two) (Janet Maple Series) by Marie Astor Page A

could conduct the kind
of trading activities that Finnegan had been hinting at—insider trading to put
it bluntly. Wyman’s help did not end with a network of companies; he had given
David a wonderful idea on how to end Finnegan’s clout over him once and for all.
David patted his jacket pocket: inside it an iPhone was recording each and
every word that was being uttered by Finnegan and Magee.
    “So, Kevan, Cornelius tells me that the
two of you go back a while,” David probed after they had placed their orders with
the waiter.
    Kevan nodded, pressing a napkin to his
lips. “Yes, indeed.”
    “We went to the same Catholic school up
in the Bronx, St. Simon’s,” Cornelius cut in. “Kevan was the brain and I was
the muscle—we made a damn good team.”
    “Yes, those were good times indeed,”
Kevan agreed.
    “There’s nothing like sharing childhood
reminiscences,” David remarked. By the looks of him, Kevan seemed to be much
more suited to a religious vocation than that of a corporate board member, and
David was beginning to have serious doubts whether Kevan would in fact be able
to deliver the valuable information that Finnegan claimed his friend had access
to.
    “Remember the time when you had the
brilliant idea to put a cockroach into Sister Myra’s chalk box?” Finnegan
elbowed Magee. “The darn thing nearly got away, but I got it in there. It was
right before the math test, too. I thought our math teacher was going to have a
heart attack: there she was, reaching for some chalk, and the cockroach crawled
right over her hand. Needless to say the math test was cancelled.”
    “And the best thing was that we never
got caught,” added Magee.
    This time David’s laugh was genuine.
    “And the time we put glue on Sister
Agnes’s chair?” Finnegan’s ample frame quivered with laughter. “I tell you,
David, there are enough stories to fill a book. Ah, the food is finally
here—it’s about time.” Finnegan cast an impatient glance at the waiters.
    Kobe steak was placed in front of
Finnegan. David had opted for seared grouper, while Magee had ordered
soft-shell crabs. “You call this a steak?” Finnegan eyed the waiter with
indignation. “I can barely make it out on my plate!”
    “I apologize, sir, but this is our
portion size for kobe steak. Would you like another piece?”
    “Oh, forget it,” Finnegan waved his
fork. “Just bring me another plate of mashed potatoes and put some gravy on
them.”
    “Would pommes mousseline be all right,
sir?”
    “Whatever you call it. Oh, and bring us
a bottle of Macallan so we don’t have to call for you every time our glasses go
dry.”
    “Certainly, sir.” With a bow, the waiter
departed to execute Finnegan’s order.
    “That does it, Kevan. Next time we’re
going to Keens.” Finnegan cut into his steak. “Chewy like a piece of rubber,”
he muttered between bites. “How’s your dish, David?”
    David’s grouper was tolerable, but
before he could respond, Finnegan switched his attention back to Magee. “What’s
that you ordered, Kevan? Reminds me of the cockroach I put into Sister Myra’s
chalk box.” Finnegan looked genuinely pleased with his joke.
    Magee, who had been gamely attacking his
dish, contemplated the last remaining soft-shell crab on his plate. “Indeed,
there is a slight resemblance, but I would imagine that soft-shell crabs are
much tastier than cockroaches although I have to admit that I never chanced to
eat a cockroach.”
    Finnegan chuckled. “That’s Magee for
you: he’s always got a comeback for every line.”
    David smiled in agreement. Indeed, his
impression of Magee had undergone a complete transformation: there was much
more to this Magee fellow than he had thought.
    After they were finished with their main
courses, Finnegan ordered a slice of cheesecake, while David and Magee limited
themselves to coffee.
    “So, Kevan, I think now is a good time
to tell David about the purpose of our little get-together,” said