She watched as Harry returned the server’s adoration with restrained politeness. Momentarily Claire remembered being at restaurants with Tony. There were times when waitresses or hostesses blatantly flirted. However, as red hot sexy as People Magazine said he was, Anthony Rawlings was also intimidating. More often than not, Claire witnessed shy smiles and platitudes from servers, “Thank you, sir.” “If there is anything else I can do...”
Harry, on the other hand screamed sexy, with his tight V-neck, relaxed 7 For All Mankind jeans, and tussled blonde hair. She thought about his free coffee, after their article appeared in popular publications. Grinning into her quiche, Claire inadvertently shook her head.
Harry looked up from his eggs Benedict to see Claire’s actions, “What?”
She looked up with big bright emerald eyes, trying for her most innocent; I have no idea what you’re talking about look.
After a bite of his eggs, complete with Hollandaise sauce, Harry continued their conversation, “Well, Lee is thorough. He, on his own, decided to do a better investigation of the neighbor, Patrick Chester.”
Claire nodded, interested in Harry’s information, almost as much as her fresh fruit.
“It seems Chester was awarded a settlement in November of 1989.”
“That’s not long after Samuel and Amanda’s death. What kind of settlement?” She managed between bites of succulent pineapple.
Harry went on to explain the origin was fuzzy. At first glance it appeared as though Chester was a litigant in a class action suit. However, upon further investigation, the beneficiary seemed to be an independent international company, based in the Cayman Islands. The actual monies were siphoned through a law firm in Los Angles. Of course, this law firm refused to answer questions or divulge any information.”
“What kind of settlement are we talking -- how much money?”
“The first installment was only 20K.”
Claire had to ask, “The first?”
“Well, his bank account has received infusions every year. I want us to go to him with the pretense of justifying his story.”
Claire looked puzzled.
Harry explained, “You’re newly involved in the distribution of wealth. You’re just checking your beneficiaries, making sure they deserve your annual supplement.”
“I have no idea what you’re saying. So, if I’m supposed to be clueless, I’ve got this!”
“Follow my lead. I used to be very good at this kind of thing. Patrick Chester still lives in Santa Monica, but not on Mongolia Drive like twenty- five years ago.”
While heading east on highway 10 toward Santa Monica, Harry asked Claire if she wanted to drive by the bungalows owned by the Chesters and Rawls. She declined. What benefit would she gain from seeing the home where Samuel and Amanda Rawls died? She wasn’t a pathologist and what clues would be available twenty-five years later?
Exiting Highway 10 onto Lincoln Avenue, they wove around side streets on their way to Riviera Estates. It was a posh neighborhood with an amazing view of Riviera Country Club. Claire revisited their plan, “Did you actually speak with Mr. Chester?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s willing to talk to us?”
Harry turned toward Claire, “Yes. Well, kind of.”
“What do you mean, kind of?”
“He was hesitant until I told him you’re a Rawls. And you needed to talk to him.”
“I wasn’t a ...”
“Theoretically you were.” He interrupted, “Just let me do most of the talking”
Claire looked at him pensively.
“Do you think you can do this?”
Claire exhaled, “I guess.”
Harry squeezed her hand again, “It’ll be fine, I promise. And, if my gut is right, this could be enlightening.”
Claire laid her head back, closed her eyes, and fought the onset of a headache, “All right, are we almost there?”
“A few more minutes.”
Claire watched as the houses grew and the yards became expertly landscaped. Slowly Harry pulled the Mustang up to large iron gates and stopped at a guardhouse.
“May I help you, sir?” the uniformed man asked.
Harry removed his Ray-Bans and responded, “Yes, Harrison Baldwin here to see Patrick Chester.”
The man in the small building referenced an electronic tablet and nodded, “Yes, sir. 100023 Fairway Drive. You’ll just need to continue left, then right at the round-a-bout.”
Harry thanked the man and eased the car forward.
Claire leaned toward Harry, “This is a very nice neighborhood. What does Patrick Chester do?”
Harry hadn’t replaced his sunglasses. Claire saw the twinkle in his eye, as he answered, “He’s retired. But before that, he was in retail.”
“Retail? Like he owned some amazing chain or overpriced boutique.”
“He didn’t own anything. He was middle management at a mid-priced chain.”
They pulled onto a wide stone and slate drive. A sprawling, stone and stucco house created an “L”, with a four car garage perpendicular to the street. One bay of the garage was open. Harry put the car in park, in front of the open door, behind a sleek silver Audi S5.
Claire continued in a low whisper, “Then how did he end up with this house with that car?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out.” Harry’s light blue eye disappeared momentarily as he winked in Claire’s direction. “I’m thinking it has to do with that mysterious settlement. Let’s give my theory a run?”
Harry, on the other hand screamed sexy, with his tight V-neck, relaxed 7 For All Mankind jeans, and tussled blonde hair. She thought about his free coffee, after their article appeared in popular publications. Grinning into her quiche, Claire inadvertently shook her head.
Harry looked up from his eggs Benedict to see Claire’s actions, “What?”
She looked up with big bright emerald eyes, trying for her most innocent; I have no idea what you’re talking about look.
After a bite of his eggs, complete with Hollandaise sauce, Harry continued their conversation, “Well, Lee is thorough. He, on his own, decided to do a better investigation of the neighbor, Patrick Chester.”
Claire nodded, interested in Harry’s information, almost as much as her fresh fruit.
“It seems Chester was awarded a settlement in November of 1989.”
“That’s not long after Samuel and Amanda’s death. What kind of settlement?” She managed between bites of succulent pineapple.
Harry went on to explain the origin was fuzzy. At first glance it appeared as though Chester was a litigant in a class action suit. However, upon further investigation, the beneficiary seemed to be an independent international company, based in the Cayman Islands. The actual monies were siphoned through a law firm in Los Angles. Of course, this law firm refused to answer questions or divulge any information.”
“What kind of settlement are we talking -- how much money?”
“The first installment was only 20K.”
Claire had to ask, “The first?”
“Well, his bank account has received infusions every year. I want us to go to him with the pretense of justifying his story.”
Claire looked puzzled.
Harry explained, “You’re newly involved in the distribution of wealth. You’re just checking your beneficiaries, making sure they deserve your annual supplement.”
“I have no idea what you’re saying. So, if I’m supposed to be clueless, I’ve got this!”
“Follow my lead. I used to be very good at this kind of thing. Patrick Chester still lives in Santa Monica, but not on Mongolia Drive like twenty- five years ago.”
While heading east on highway 10 toward Santa Monica, Harry asked Claire if she wanted to drive by the bungalows owned by the Chesters and Rawls. She declined. What benefit would she gain from seeing the home where Samuel and Amanda Rawls died? She wasn’t a pathologist and what clues would be available twenty-five years later?
Exiting Highway 10 onto Lincoln Avenue, they wove around side streets on their way to Riviera Estates. It was a posh neighborhood with an amazing view of Riviera Country Club. Claire revisited their plan, “Did you actually speak with Mr. Chester?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s willing to talk to us?”
Harry turned toward Claire, “Yes. Well, kind of.”
“What do you mean, kind of?”
“He was hesitant until I told him you’re a Rawls. And you needed to talk to him.”
“I wasn’t a ...”
“Theoretically you were.” He interrupted, “Just let me do most of the talking”
Claire looked at him pensively.
“Do you think you can do this?”
Claire exhaled, “I guess.”
Harry squeezed her hand again, “It’ll be fine, I promise. And, if my gut is right, this could be enlightening.”
Claire laid her head back, closed her eyes, and fought the onset of a headache, “All right, are we almost there?”
“A few more minutes.”
Claire watched as the houses grew and the yards became expertly landscaped. Slowly Harry pulled the Mustang up to large iron gates and stopped at a guardhouse.
“May I help you, sir?” the uniformed man asked.
Harry removed his Ray-Bans and responded, “Yes, Harrison Baldwin here to see Patrick Chester.”
The man in the small building referenced an electronic tablet and nodded, “Yes, sir. 100023 Fairway Drive. You’ll just need to continue left, then right at the round-a-bout.”
Harry thanked the man and eased the car forward.
Claire leaned toward Harry, “This is a very nice neighborhood. What does Patrick Chester do?”
Harry hadn’t replaced his sunglasses. Claire saw the twinkle in his eye, as he answered, “He’s retired. But before that, he was in retail.”
“Retail? Like he owned some amazing chain or overpriced boutique.”
“He didn’t own anything. He was middle management at a mid-priced chain.”
They pulled onto a wide stone and slate drive. A sprawling, stone and stucco house created an “L”, with a four car garage perpendicular to the street. One bay of the garage was open. Harry put the car in park, in front of the open door, behind a sleek silver Audi S5.
Claire continued in a low whisper, “Then how did he end up with this house with that car?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out.” Harry’s light blue eye disappeared momentarily as he winked in Claire’s direction. “I’m thinking it has to do with that mysterious settlement. Let’s give my theory a run?”
