Payback Page 9

  “You’ve no idea how tempting that sounds.”

  “Not long-term. Long-term, it’s disastrous, because the mess grows bigger the harder you try to ignore it.”

  “You don’t have my talent for ignoring messes. I’ve been coping for the past seven months by avoiding as many difficult issues as possible.”

  “And how is that working for you?”

  “Not well,” Kate acknowledged. “The truth is I’ve about run out of places to hide from my problems. Pretty soon, I’ll bump into some monster-in-the-closet whichever way I turn.”

  “So this might be a good moment to change tactics and confront at least this one problem? Give it a try, Katie.”

  She gave a wry smile. “Couldn’t we start with something a bit smaller? Like whether I need to add more brown sugar to my Christmas pecan torte.”

  “I’d say no, if it’s the same torte you made for me last year. That was already perfect.” Like everything else about the Christmas they’d spent together. Christmas Eve with Kate had brought back all the magic that had been missing since he was five years old and waiting for Santa. He wondered if she still had the dragon’s egg he’d given her at midnight on Christmas Eve. Wondered if she had even a smidgen of a clue how erotic he found the dragon on her butt. Thought about how much he’d love to sleep just one more time with his hand resting comfortably over Puff.

  Luke held her gaze and realized just looking at her was enough to make his heart race. He forced his thoughts back on track. “Trying to find the man I saw is the right decision, Kate, even if it’s more difficult for you and your mother in the short term.”

  “I guess.” She looked away and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “No, you’re right. I need to stop with the wishy-washy stuff. It’s time for me to take a stand. We need to track this man down, even if he turns out to be just a look-alike.”

  “Great. We agree about something! Stick to your original recipe for the pecan torte and we’ve agreed about two things in one night.”

  She gave him a real, wholehearted smile. “Okay, I’ll stop experimenting with the Christmas torte. How’s that for eagerness to please?”

  “It’s amazing. I believe a major milestone in our relationship has just been passed.” Luke decided to end the conversation while he was at least fractionally ahead. This was about as close to harmony as the two of them were likely to achieve, given everything that lay between them. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve arranged a time to meet with George Klein. Afternoons are still best for you?”

  “Anytime after three,” she agreed. As a pastry chef, she started work at dawn and went to bed early. As a restaurant owner, he worked late into the night. When they were dating, he had often gone to bed only a couple of hours before she got up.

  “You’ll need this.” She reached into her purse and handed him a printed card. “My phone number’s the same but I have a new e-mail address.”

  He stashed the card in the pocket of his work pants. “Thanks, I’ll be in touch. It’s misty tonight. Drive safely, Kate.”

  He left before she could change her mind about meeting with the detective. And before he could ask another of the dumb questions percolating in his pathetic, sex-addled brain. Something terminally dimwitted along the lines of Are you and Michael still sleeping together?

  It was odd how much he wanted to ask the question, when he was quite sure he didn’t want to know the answer.

  Eight

  October 15, 2007

  L uke was surprised when Kate didn’t bring her mother to the meeting with George Klein the following Monday afternoon. Instead she walked into the detective’s sparsely furnished but spacious office on the arm of a tall, handsome man in his fifties. He recognized her escort as Paul Fairfax, Kate’s uncle and Ron’s former business partner in Raven Enterprises.

  Kate seemed determined to set a brisk, businesslike tone for the meeting. Perhaps that was why she’d brought her uncle, Luke speculated. She acknowledged Luke’s presence with a quick nod and an immediate introduction, neatly avoiding the need to say anything personal.

  “Do you remember my uncle, Paul Fairfax? Uncle Paul, this is Luke Savarini. I believe the two of you met a few years ago when my father was financing the start-up of the first Luciano’s.”

  The two men shook hands and Luke, in turn, introduced the Fairfaxes to George Klein. “I apologize for turning up like this unannounced,” Paul said, gesturing to include both Luke and George in his apology. “I had conference calls with some business partners in Denver right after lunch. We’re developing a major building project in the city, and the death of the mayor last summer has caused us a couple of minor problems. I wasn’t sure I could break off in time to get here. However, the more I mulled over what Kate had told me, the clearer it became that I need to be part of this investigation. So I decided to cut short my phone meeting in order to get here. All very rushed and last-minute, I’m afraid. Hence no warning.”

  “I understand,” Luke said. “In fact, it’s good to have you here, Paul. I should have realized you have almost as much reason as Ron’s wives and children to want to know if he’s alive.”

  Paul winced at the mention of Ron’s wives. Ron’s bigamy still visibly roiled him and Luke could empathize. If some son of a bitch bigamously married one of his sisters, he’d have a hard time coming to terms with it, too.

  Everyone sat down and George Klein delivered his standard spiel about needing a unanimous agreement concerning the goals of the investigation. Paul jumped in as soon as the detective finished speaking, not to clarify the goals of the investigation but to insist on taking responsibility for paying the bills.

  “Ron was my business partner,” he explained. “Attempting to discover whether or not he’s alive is a tax-deductible business expense for Raven Enterprises, whereas it would be out of pocket for Kate and Avery, and for you, too, Luke. Besides, this is a small service I can perform for my sister and I really want to do it. I must insist. No arguments, please.”

  George took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. “If you all agree that Mr. Fairfax should pay the bills, that raises another issue we should clear up before we get started. If you pay the bills, Mr. Fairfax, then you’re the person entitled to receive my reports. From my perspective, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be point man, so to speak. But just so we all understand the situation.”

  Paul gave an airy wave of his hand. “As far as I’m concerned, the fact that I’m the person paying the bills doesn’t mean the reports have to come to me. However, as a practical matter, I might be easier to reach than Kate or Luke. They both have erratic work schedules, whereas I’m more likely to be in the office between eight and five, and at home in the evening.”

  “Just so long as you keep us updated, Uncle Paul.” Kate’s voice was teasing, but her expression warned that she was serious. “Don’t pull one of your Southern gentleman tricks and decide to protect me and my mother if you don’t like the information George digs up.”

  Paul flashed his niece an affectionate glance. “I wouldn’t dare to hold anything back from you, Kate. I promise to share all of Mr. Klein’s reports with you and your mother. Every last word. And if you want to keep Luke updated, that’s entirely up to you. I have no objection, of course, none in the world. After all, if not for Luke, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

  It was entirely logical for Paul Fairfax to pay George Klein’s bills, and equally as logical for him to be the person on the receiving end of George’s reports. Luke ought to have been relieved that yet another item wasn’t about to get added to his already overflowing agenda, and yet he felt dissatisfied with the arrangement. Probably because he was afraid that Kate would cut him out of the informational loop, he reflected wryly. He really didn’t want that to happen.

  Truth be told, finding Ron Raven was becoming somewhat of a fixation for him. As each day passed, he became more determined to track down the man he’d seen in Cousin Bruno’s restaurant. He’d re
alized last night, tossing and turning in a quest for sleep, that even if he hadn’t been afflicted with some weird hang-up about his failed relationship with Kate, he’d still want to know if the man he’d seen was Ron Raven.

  Luke kept silent about the bill because there was no way to express his objections without revealing more about the state of his feelings for Kate than he cared to have on public view. George Klein, satisfied that the administrative details were taken care of, outlined the information about Stewart M. Jones that he’d already uncovered while working for Luke, and asked for feedback from Paul and Kate.

  “I have a file of newspaper and magazine clippings concerning Ron’s disappearance.” Paul placed a thick folder on George’s desk. “I only kept the least sensational accounts. I’m not sure how much of this material will be relevant, but it does provide all the background to Ron’s disappearance that you could possibly need.”

  “Except for the information Adam picked up in Belize,” Kate interjected. “We need to tell George about that.”

  “True.” Paul turned to the detective, frowning as he tried to order his thoughts. “This gets complicated. Kate is referring to the fact that my younger brother, Adam, was in Mexico and Belize on the trail of some money that went missing at the time of Ron’s death.”

  Paul stopped short, shaking his head. “I suppose I have to get used to saying at the time of Ron’s disappearance. I’m having a hard time absorbing the implications of what we’re doing here. Anyway, while Adam was in Belize, he ran into Julio Castellano.”

  “The police have identified Castellano as the man who murdered my father,” Kate explained for George’s benefit. “When Adam returned from Belize, he told us that Castellano denied having anything to do with my father’s murder—”

  “Which we didn’t believe, of course. At least, back in the summer.” Paul sounded as if he was having a hard time changing his opinion about Castellano’s guilt.

  George Klein glanced up, eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Are you telling me that another member of your family has been claiming for months that Ron is alive?”

  “Oh, no!” Kate and Paul exclaimed together.

  “Castellano never hinted that my father might be alive,” Kate explained. “He just claimed that he hadn’t killed him.”

  “Naturally it never occurred to my brother that Ron might be alive,” Paul added. “Adam was simply persuaded that somebody other than Julio Castellano had murdered Ron.”

  “We none of us believed Adam,” Kate admitted. “In fact, when he and Megan returned from Belize, I told him not to be naive, that Castellano was spinning him a fairy tale. But Adam insisted that Castellano had saved his life and Megan’s, too, when it would have been much easier to let them both die. He insisted the cops were targeting the wrong suspect.”

  “Naturally I assumed gratitude to Julio Castellano was clouding his judgment.” Paul directed an apologetic glance at Luke, massaging just above the bridge of his nose as if a headache was forming. “To be honest, I’m still having trouble accepting that the police in Miami have misread this whole case from the beginning. In fact, Luke, I wouldn’t be pursuing this investigation if Avery and Kate weren’t adamant that you’re a reliable witness. But dammit, are you sure about what you saw? The cops didn’t just pull Castellano’s name out of the air! They identified his blood in the hotel room!”

  Luke sympathized with Paul’s skepticism. “Of course, I can’t be a hundred percent sure the man I saw was Ron. We never spoke, and I only glimpsed him for thirty seconds or so before he realized I was watching him. At which point he ran like hell. But if it wasn’t Ron, why did a perfect stranger rush out of the restaurant the moment he caught my eye? And why did this same stranger sell an almost-new Mercedes the day after he saw me writing down the license plate number?”

  “It sure sounds suspicious enough to warrant investigation,” Paul conceded grudgingly. “But if you really did see Ron, then I have to change my opinion about this Julio Castellano person. Apparently he told Adam the truth. He’s a convicted murderer, he was in Ron’s hotel room, his blood was smeared on the wall—and he didn’t kill Ron. God, listen to what I’m saying! It’s incredible! Truly incredible.”

  “There’s one other thing,” Kate added. “Castellano told Adam that the woman in the hotel room with my father that night was a relative of his, a woman called Consuela Mackenzie. Adam described Consuela to us as a woman in her late thirties, unusually tall for a native Belizean, but petite by American standards. She has thick, dark hair, very curly, which she wears long. She was, apparently, in love with my father, at least according to Julio. Does that description of Consuela sound anything like the woman you saw in the restaurant?”

  “It sounds a lot like the woman I saw,” Luke said. “I guess it only makes sense that if Ron Raven didn’t die that night in the hotel, then the woman with him didn’t die, either.”

  He wondered if Ron Raven could possibly have been crazy enough to fake his own death simply to start life with a new and attractive young woman. But how could faking your own death be easier than getting a divorce? In Ron’s case, of course, he would need to get a divorce and shed a mistress he’d kept for twenty-seven years. Still, that would surely pose fewer problems than planning a double fake murder. For that matter, he could simply have left his wives, without any elaborate ruse or explanations.

  “We’re getting diverted here,” George Klein said. “We can’t get sidetracked into worrying about the identity of the woman Luke saw. We need to stay focused on the main item on the agenda, namely gathering information that will lead us to Stewart Jones. If I can find Mr. Jones, a lot of other questions will be answered almost automatically. Once we know whether or not Stewart Jones is also Ron Raven, it should be child’s play to discover the identity of any woman he might have living with him. Does that sound like a plan?”

  “Yes, it does.” Paul directed an approving nod at the detective. “Thanks for getting us back on track, George.”

  “You asked me to bring a few photographs of my father and I have them here.” Kate unzipped a small leather portfolio and took out a plastic bag filled with a dozen or so pictures. She handed the stash to George. “Those were all taken in the last few weeks before my father disappeared. There are headshots and a couple of full lengths to give you an idea of his body build. My father was…is…he’s just over six feet tall, with powerful shoulders and unusually thick hair for a man in his fifties. I have duplicates of all of the photos, so I don’t need those copies returned.”

  “Excellent.” George rifled through the pictures. “Yes, these will be great. A fine selection, thanks. I plan to take these to the apartment building where Stewart M. Jones was living in June and show them around, especially to the custodial staff. If I can get a positive ID, at least we know we are dealing with a man who looks very much like Ron Raven.”

  “Let’s assume somebody at the apartment building makes the identification,” Paul said. “What’s our next step? From what you were telling us earlier, you’ve already run the car registration tags and come to a dead end.”

  “You never know in advance what tidbits you’re going to turn up when you conduct an on-site investigation,” George said. “Over the phone, rental agents and building superintendents are reluctant to share information. When you’re asking questions face-to-face, it’s surprising how much more you can learn. Look on the bright side. I’m actually not short of leads. I have an address where Stewart Jones lived for six weeks. I have the auto dealership where he sold his car. That car was a nearly new Mercedes and those aren’t turned in every day of the week. There’s a decent chance—more than decent—that I’m going to find somebody who remembers Mr. Jones and can direct me to his current whereabouts.”

  Paul still looked discouraged. “I hope you’re right. The worst thing from my point of view…from all our points of view, I guess…is to have this issue looming over us, forever unresolved. It’s hell not knowing for sure whether Ron is alive
or dead. Frankly, the uncertainty could destroy my sister’s peace of mind. And it can’t be pleasant for Kate, either.” He gave her knee a comforting pat as he spoke.

  “I’ll do my best to make sure you aren’t left floating in limbo.” George turned to look at Luke. “When you called to set up this meeting, you mentioned that you collected one other small piece of information at the restaurant the night you spotted our quarry. Could you share that with us now?”

  “It’s nothing dramatic, unfortunately.” Luke opened the envelope he’d brought with him and extracted the credit card receipt Bruno had given him. He handed it to George.

  “How is this connected to the man you saw?” the detective asked.

  “He left it, by mistake, I’m sure. As I explained before, the man I saw in my cousin’s restaurant not only appeared to recognize me, he was obviously spooked by the sight. As soon as he realized I was coming to speak to him, he seized his companion’s arm and hustled her toward the exit. He hadn’t paid for their meals, but he was in too much of a hurry to summon the waitress to ask for his check. He simply grabbed his wallet and pulled out a bundle of twenties, which he tossed onto the table to cover the bill. Since the restaurant is owned by one of my cousins, it was a bit easier for me to ask questions and get them answered than it would have been in normal circumstances. I told the waitress I’d seen an old friend and I was anxious to get in touch but I had no contact address or phone number. In response, my cousin brought me that credit card receipt. Apparently the server found it stuffed in the pile of twenties that had been left on the table.”

  Paul and Kate both looked skeptical, as if they couldn’t imagine what use a stray credit card receipt might be, but George studied the flimsy scrap of paper with interest. “Stewart M. Jones went shopping at a store called Sunrise, which, according to the address, is located in the Reston Town Square shopping center.”

  “Reston’s right next to Herndon,” Luke said, not sure if George was familiar with the area. “They’re both basically dormitory suburbs for the D.C. area.”