At that second, Harry realized, no one could. Anthony Rawlings would never let her go. If Claire were to be part of his life, so would Anthony Rawlings. He forced a smile and glanced toward her hidden eyes.
Claire’s voice transcended the rush of air, “Thank you. I really do like the car and the drive.”
“You’re very welcome, anytime.”
With her cheeks still raised and her lips turned upward, she moved her glance to the right. He thought about the woman who arrived at Amber’s apartment; would that woman have screamed at the top of her lungs, on highway 5-N? Would she have joined him in their activities over the last two days? Harry wasn’t sure. He knew the petite brunette at his side was a mass of contrary emotions and actions. Beyond anything, he longed to explore every one of them.
Claire glanced back at Harry as he suggested, “I know this great place in Oceanside for Sunday brunch. Are you up for stopping on our way to Santa Monica?”
“Yes, it sounds great.”
All secrets are deep. All secrets become dark.
That’s in the nature of secrets.
- Cory Doctorow
Chapter 28
With the wind in her hair, Claire’s thoughts disappeared into the ribbon of white sand and rolling waves. She watched as a few lone souls, in wetsuits, walked the shore carrying surfboards in search of the perfect wave. The table she shared with Harry at the Beach Break Cafe was covered by a blue umbrella. Under that same table, Claire’s sandaled feet rested upon a carpet of sand. Inhaling the salty surf she relished the perfect atmosphere for Sunday brunch and sipped her coffee.
Harry remained uncharacteristically quiet as Clair enjoyed the glowing vista. The glistening sun reflected off the waves creating silver caps rolling upon the turquoise blue ocean. Wistfully she remembered other sandy beaches. She loved the soft gritty sensation as she wiggled her sand covered toes under her chair.
After the waitress refilled their cups of coffee, Harry’s soft voice penetrated the sounds of the sea, “If this is too difficult for you, I can go to Patrick Chester’s house alone. I’ll just call and reschedule.”
Claire looked up. Despite his concerned expression, it was his long unruly blonde hair moving in the ocean breeze that made her smile. Only once had she seen it controlled, the night they’d met at the restaurant and he’d used gel. She remembered he’d also worn a jacket, a sexy look, but not as sexy as his jeans and well-fitting t-shirts.
“No, I can do this. Honestly, I haven’t allowed myself to think much about it. I guess I’m torn.” Harry lifted his brows, and Claire clarified, “I’m curious, but apprehensive. The police reports were upsetting. I’m not sure I want to hear more gory details.”
“That’s not why we’re going to see him.”
Claire listened.
“I asked a friend, who works at SiJo, to help me with research.”
Claire interrupted, “Harry, please don’t do that. I feel bad enough with all Amber’s done for me. She doesn’t need to be paying people to research my vendetta.”
“Well, Lee’s my friend; we went to academy together. After Simon made me head of SiJo security, I called him and offered him a job. There were openings and he was more than qualified. He’s got a wife and two kids. The increase in pay was too hard for him to turn down. Most of all, he’s been a tremendous asset to SiJo. Amber isn’t wasting money on him, no matter what he does.
Anyway, he’s always been a master at digging for information. So, I might have mentioned that there were some inconsistencies in the Samuel and Amanda Rawls case.”
Claire sat her coffee cup upon its saucer. “Because... you often bring up old homicide or suicide cases during lunch break?”
“I might have also mentioned you... and your ex... but I promise, Lee’s professional. I told him about the ballistics and the reported COD. He agreed, it seemed... well, fishy.”
“Is that supposed to explain why we’re going to Santa Monica?”
Harry remained silent as the waitress interrupted their conversation, delivering food. The smell of sand and salt disappeared into a cloud of decadent aromas. Claire noticed the attentiveness of the cute voluptuous blonde, of course, all directed toward Harry.
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?”