Chapter 16It had all started with a stakeout, and it appeared it was going to end with one.
Jimmy McSwain had been waiting near the prewar building at 74th and Park Avenue since eight o’clock Friday night. So far, he’d come up empty. There was no sign of Eaton McDonald, nor his limo or chauffeur, Ephraim. The sun had waned, stars had sparkled, and the moonlight had kept him company as the new day turned. The city was quiet. Holiday weekends did that. On the Upper East Side, it was particularly empty. Lots of folks had summer homes. The Hamptons, or Upstate. There was no reason to believe Eaton McDonald was still in the city. Yet he had been just two days ago. He’d been in full business mode. A man of such means, such wealth, did he do as others did and take advantage of long weekends?
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