“I can’t do that,” Lenny said gravely. “That would be a violation of the Privacy Act of 1974 as well as the Gramm-Leach-Bliley Act.”
Matt’s stomach flipped over. But then Lenny grinned. “Just messing with you. Sure, happy to.” He crunched away at his keyboard, squinted at the screen, tapped some more. “Spell it again?”
Matt did.
“Funny. Not coming up with anything.”
Matt swallowed. “You’re not?”
Lenny’s stubby fingers flew over the keyboard. “Very peculiar,” he said. “Your guy isn’t registered to vote and never got a driver’s license, hasn’t purchased any property… You sure he’s not a figment of your imagination?”
“Know what? I must have gotten his name wrong. Never mind. I’ll get back to you.”
“No worries,” Lenny said. “Anytime.”
Matt was hardly a party animal. He disliked socializing, particularly with the neighbors. Wherever he lived, he preferred to keep a low profile. Plus, he didn’t much like the Kramers. They had the biggest house in the neighborhood and a lawn like a golf course, and every year they resealed their driveway so it looked like polished onyx. They were throwing a party tonight to show off their latest renovation. Matt found this annoying. If you could afford to spend half a million dollars remodeling your house, the least you could do was keep quiet about it.
But this was one party that Matt was actually looking forward to. He wanted to ask the “Nourwoods” a few questions.
The party was already in full swing when he arrived: giddy, lubricated laughter and the smells of strong perfume and gin and melted cheese. He smiled at the neighbors, most of whom he didn’t know, said hello to Audrey Kramer, and then caught sight of Kate chatting amiably with the Nourwoods. He froze. Why was she being so friendly to them?
As soon as Kate spied Matt, she waved him over. “Jimmy, Laura-my husband, Matt.”
Nourwood was dressed in an expensive-looking blue suit, a crisp white shirt, and a striped tie. He looked prosperous and preening. His wife was small and blond and plain, solidly built, with small, pert features. Next to her husband she looked washed-out. They really didn’t look like a married couple, Matt thought. They didn’t seem to fit together in any way. Both of them smiled politely and extended their hands, and Matt noticed that her handshake was a lot firmer than her husband’s.
“We’ve met,” Nourwood said, his dark eyes gleaming.
“You have?” Kate said.
“Early this morning. He didn’t tell you?” Nourwood laughed, showing very white, even teeth. “Very early this morning.”
Kate flashed Matt a look of surprise. “No.”
“Did you ever find your earring?” Nourwood asked Kate.
“Earring?” she said. “What earring?”
“The one Matt gave you-his first gift to you?”
Matt tried to intercept her with a warning look, but Kate gave him no chance. “This guy?” she said. “I don’t think he’s ever given me a pair of earrings the whole time I’ve known him.”
“Ah,” Nourwood said. His eyes bored right into Matt like an X-ray. “I misunderstood.”
Matt’s face went hot and prickly, and he wondered how obvious it was. He’d been caught in a transparent lie. How was he going to explain what he’d really been doing in Nourwood’s driveway at five in the morning without sounding defensive or sketchy? And then he rebuked himself: This guy’s a liar and an undercover operative, and you’re acting like the guilty one?
The two women launched into a high-spirited conversation, like old friends, about restaurants and movies and shopping, leaving the two men standing there in awkward silence.
“My apologies,” Nourwood said quietly. “I should have thought before I said anything. We all have things we prefer to keep hidden from our spouses.”
Matt attempted a casual chuckle, but it came out hollow and forced. “Oh no, not at all,” he said. “I should have told you the whole story.” He lowered his voice, confiding. “Those earrings were actually a surprise gift-”
“Ah,” Nourwood said, cutting him off with a knowing smile. “Not another word. My bad.”
Matt hesitated. Without further elaboration, his new, revised story made no sense: why the pointless lie, how had these imaginary earrings ended up on Nourwood’s driveway, all that. But Nourwood either didn’t need to hear more-or didn’t believe him and didn’t want to hear more.
Matt’s Spidey Sense was tingling again.
Laura and Kate were laughing and talking a mile a minute. Laura was saying something about Neiman Marcus, Kate nodding emphatically and saying, “Totally. Totally.”
Instead of trying to salvage a shred of credibility, Matt decided to change the subject. “So how do you like ADS?”
Nourwood stared at him blankly. “ADS?”
“Andromeda Data Systems. You don’t work there?” Now he wondered whether Kate might have just heard wrong.
“Oh, right,” Nourwood said, as if just now remembering. “It’s fine. You know-it’s a job.”
“Uh-huh,” Matt said. Maybe it was Nourwood’s turn to get caught in a lie. “You just started there, right?”
“Right, right,” Nourwood said vaguely, obviously not eager to talk about it.
“How’s the commute?” Matt persisted, moving in for the kill. “You must, like, live on the turnpike.”
“Not at all. It’s not too bad.”
There was no question about it: Nourwood didn’t work at ADS at all. He was probably afraid to be asked too many questions about the company.
So Matt bore in. “What kind of work do you do?”
“Oh, you don’t want to know, believe me,” Nourwood said in an offhanded way. His eyes were roaming the room over Matt’s shoulders, as if he was desperate for an escape from the grilling.
“Not at all. I’d love to know.”
“Believe me,” Nourwood said, feigning joviality, though there was something hard in his eyes. “Whenever I try to explain what I do, people fall asleep standing up. Tell me about yourself.”
“Me? I’m an engineer. But we’re not done with you.” Then Matt flashed a mollifying grin.
“I guess you could say I’m an engineer, too,” Nourwood said. “A project engineer.”
“Oh, yeah? I know a fair amount about ADS,” Matt lied. He knew nothing more than what he’d gleaned from a quick glance at their website this morning and skimming the occasional article in the Globe. “I’d love to hear all about it.”
“I’m an independent contractor. On kind of a consulting project.”
“Really?” Matt said, pretending to be fascinated. “Tell me about it.”
Nourwood’s restless eyes returned to Matt’s, and for a few seconds seemed to be studying him. “I wish I could,” he said at last. “But they made me sign all sorts of nondisclosure agreements.”
Matt wondered whether Nourwood was a harmless king snake or a venomous prairie rattlesnake. “Huh,” he said.
“It’s just a short-term project anyway,” Nourwood went on, his eyes gone opaque. “That’s why we’re renting.”
Matt’s stomach flipped over. A short-term project. That was one way of putting it. Of course it was short term. In a couple of days Nourwood’s true mission would be finished. Matt cleared his throat, attempted another approach entirely. “You know, it’s the weirdest thing, but you look so damned familiar.”
“Oh?”
“I could swear I’ve met you before.”
Nourwood nodded. “I get that a lot.”
Matt doubted it. “College, maybe?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Where’d you go to college?”
Nourwood seemed to hesitate. “Madison,” he said, almost grudgingly.
“You’re kidding me! I’ve got a bunch of friends who went there. What year’d you graduate?”
He caught Kate giving him a poisonous look. She had this astonishing ability to talk and eavesdrop at the same time. In truth, Matt didn’t know a single person who’d gone to the University of Wisconsin at Madison. But if Matt could get Nourwood to give him a year of graduation, he’d finally be able to unearth something on this guy.