“So, the lunch was in his calendar?” Gennaro asked.
“It was.”
“And who was he having lunch with?”
“Hold on.” Baker pulled out a phone, tapped the screen, and held the device out so that Gennaro could see it.
“Give that to me.” Gennaro snatched the phone from him and looked at the display.
On it was a calendar entry that read:
Lunch with Jack Coulter
Café Chelsea
Gennaro tapped the entry, thinking it would take him to Coulter’s contact info, but nothing happened.
“It’s a picture,” Baker said.
“A picture? What do you mean?”
“It’s a picture of the calendar entry on Barrington’s phone.”
Gennaro stared at him, incredulous. “You saying this isn’t Barrington’s phone?”
Baker looked confused. “No, that’s mine.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“Why is this not his phone?”
“Because it’s mine,” Baker said slowly.
“Dear God. Where ishisphone?”
“I left it behind.”
“You left it behind.”
Baker’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Yeah, that’s what I just said.”
“Why?” Gennaro asked, exasperated.
“Because if we took it, Barrington could have tracked its location. I assumed you wouldn’t want him to come here looking for it.” Baker shrugged as if it should have been obvious.
Gennaro took a moment to calm himself, then said, “You had his phone open. You could have turned off the tracking function.”
“Oh, I get the problem now,” Baker said, grinning. “I forgot to tell you that his driver showed up with a gun, so we had to get out of there fast. The phone would have been locked again, so I just dropped it. Sorry, I should have mentioned that before.”
“You thought all that through before you dropped it?”
“It was insinkchual.”
“In what?”
“Insinkchual. You know when your body knows to do something without having to think about it.”
