Man in the Middle Read Free

before Matthew Neil grew ill, Ayers was no longer a welcome guest in the Neil household. Nobody—not Peter’s mother, not his father—ever offered any explanation for what had happened. But whatever the reason for their falling out, Ayers took the initiative, contacting mother and son shortly after the elder Neil passed away. That was ten years ago. The prodigal friend assisted them by insisting Hannah enroll in a program, become a paralegal, and join the law firm bearing his name. Peter had no choice but to be grateful, and that meant he must suffer through whatever this wreck of a man now had to say. He gripped his chair and held tight.
    “I need to do something for you, Peter.”
    “This isn’t necessary—”
    “Let me finish.” Ayers raised his damaged hand, continuing to show no signs of discomfort. “I understand you quit your job this week.”
    Peter wondered how Ayers knew about that development. “Mom’s death made me re-evaluate my priorities,” he confirmed. “I was fed up with pushing overpriced mortgage loans on unsuspecting clients.”
    Peter decided not to mention that he had handled his resignation with blowtorch subtlety, telling his boss, Craig Hinton, he thought the man crooked for making side-deals with mortgage lending institutions that concealed their bloated interest rates in confusing terminology. He’d said a few other things as well, none of them endearing.
    “A person needs to have a job he enjoys.” Ayers’ head turned and locked on a wedding picture of Hannah and Matthew Neil propped atop a side table. Peter followed his gaze. In that photograph, cake covered the newlyweds’ smiles like thick makeup. Jason Ayers—slightly out of focus— hovered off to one side, hoisting a champagne glass in an apparent toast.
    “Yes,” Peter half-heartedly agreed. “I guess they do.”
    “Peter. This is hard for me to admit . . .” Ayers paused to clear his throat. “But I did additional checking. Your mother told me she didn’t approve of your girlfriend—Ms. Goodman.”
    “No, she didn’t,” Peter said. The suspicion in Peter’s voice wasn’t meant to be disguised. “I broke up with her the same day I quit my job.” Ellen Goodman’s image filled his mind in a blaze of glory. On the one-to-ten scale, with ten being knockout, she was a twenty-three, but the woman had the morals of an alley cat and, to make matters worse, had been a coworker. Her sleeping with their boss, in what she regarded as a career move, was another reason why Peter quit his job and romance simultaneously.
    “I already knew about your breakup,” Ayers said. “Ms. Goodman has a reputation. Well-founded I am told.”
    “You could know these things—” Peter said, making no effort to hide his displeasure or the challenge in his voice “—only by hiring an investigator to pry into my life. Did you?” He didn’t dare ask how much more about his life Mr. Jason Ayers had dug up.
    Immediately, the man grew nervous and apologetic—even seemed surprised that what he had done might be interpreted as inappropriate. He said he did these things with the best of intentions. He had promised Hannah, he said, to help Peter if anything ever happened to her. He was, he reminded Peter, a link to the past. Practically family.
    “I swear to God,” Ayers continued, “I never meant to upset you. I did-n’t know any other way to keep my promise to Hannah.”
    One after another, the rationalizations flowed as if Ayers hoped one or two—like argument spaghetti thrown against Peter’s brain—might find their mark and stick. As he listened, Peter’s emotions ran the gamut from pissed-off at the invasion of his privacy to pity over the neediness in Ayers’ pleas. In the end, Peter went with sympathy. He reminded himself of his and his mother’s debt to Ayers. That damn debt.
    “Would you like to learn to trade stocks, bonds, currencies?” Ayers asked, sounding hopeful. “You’d work for—”
    “I appreciate