Chapter 35

 

“Danielle and I are going to treat you to lunch, Woody.” Tom Anderson leaned toward Frank across the seat of the Rolls Royce, on their way from the bank back to the Grand Cayman Regent. “I can’t thank you enough for bringing me along today.”

“Lunch would be very nice,” Frank answered, working to keep up his British reserve, since all he really wanted to do was get out of this man’s presence and yelp for joy.

Two hundred grand in his Swiss account after a couple days socializing with this auto parts businessman, the guy who thought he knew so much about investing. He resisted the urge to sneak a glance at his watch. All he had to do was keep the Andersons in the dark and avoid the hotel manager for another sixteen hours.

“Man, Monday morning can’t come soon enough for me,” Anderson was saying. “I can’t wait to take a look at that ten-fold return you promised.”

Frank forced his smile to mirror Tom’s eagerness. “It will be grand, won’t it?”

The car rolled to a quiet stop in front of the hotel’s main entrance. Tom got out at the curb. Frank climbed out on the side away from the building.

“Look, I’ve got a quick stop to make,” he said. “Let’s meet at the beach. I heard about a tasty little place for lunch and it’s only a short walk.”

“Great,” said Tom. “Danielle’s probably already out working on her tan. I’ll tell her to put on some clothes. Fifteen minutes?”

Frank sent him a little salute as he ducked into a narrow pathway beside the building. No way was he going to wreck things now by walking through the lobby. Alone in the shade of a huge tree with flaming red flowers, he let out a long breath and rolled his shoulders a couple of times to release the pent-up energy. He loved to play the con, loved to watch the mark lay down his money, especially loved watching those dollars move along right into his bank account. He didn’t love the idea of having to keep up the pretense this many more hours.

How was he going to keep Anderson from checking with his own bank, potentially stopping the funds transfer and botching the deal? At the very least, he had to keep the guy occupied until after banking hours, another four or five hours. The afternoon stretched ahead, much too long.

He patted the money belt where the necklace and cash sat, felt his pockets and found the two cell phones. Damn, he’d meant to get rid of the one from Arizona. The thing was like an anchor around his neck. He pressed a button on it and saw another call from Todd Wainwright. Geez, would that guy never let go?

A glance at the time told him he had a few minutes yet before meeting the Andersons. He ducked between two buildings and headed for a small pier where he’d seen fishing boats dock when they picked up their charters. He wondered how deep that water was, supposed it didn’t matter—almost any amount of salt water could ruin a cell phone.

He strode toward the pier and walked to the end of it. No one was around at the moment. The morning’s passengers had left hours ago with their sunscreen and high hopes; they wouldn’t return until they were salty and sunburned, with or without fish. He held the Arizona phone discreetly in the palm of his hand, walked to the end of the pier, pretended to enjoy the breakwater a quarter mile away and the horizon well beyond. With the incoming splash of a wave, he slipped the unwanted phone into the water, giving it a little flick to send it beyond the wooden pilings. There. Done.

Lunch went well. Tom was full of himself and his business savvy. Danielle quizzed her husband about the Rolls Royce they’d taken to the bank. Was it nice, honey? Wouldn’t we look grand driving around Kansas City in one of those? He practically promised her one as soon as they got home.

Twice, Frank had to steer the conversation away from travel plans. He didn’t want to say anything that would cause the Andersons to change their plans or try to track his.

“Say,” he said after graciously allowing Tom to pay the lunch check, “I didn’t realize this restaurant didn’t serve alcohol. Let’s all go back to my suite and have a celebratory drink to our success.”

He’d picked up, early on, that Danielle was one of those tourists who goes to beach resorts with the idea that while she’s on vacation there will be no responsibilities and no schedule. Beach time and drinking were her goals, and from what he’d noticed last night she could really put it away. She quickly latched onto his invitation. The longer he could keep the couple occupied, the less chance they would learn too much before it was too late.

“Oh my god,” said Danielle when they walked into the penthouse suite. “Oh. My. God. How big is this place, anyway?”

“Three bedrooms, four baths.” He spread his hands to indicate the living room furnished with European style rococo and the latest designer colors. A grand piano sat in one corner, a dining table for twelve beyond. The balcony was above the treetops so the view consisted of acres of undulating green palm fronds with the luminous turquoise water beyond.

“It’s a little much just for me,” he told them, “but the smaller suites were full.” He gave a what-do-you-do shrug.

He’d discovered the fully stocked bar as soon as he arrived and now, with the confidence of a man at home in his surroundings, he offered to pour. Danielle immediately snapped up the 18-year Glenlivet. Tom said he would take one, as well.

Tom knew how to pace himself, it turned out, but his wife didn’t. By four o’clock she was snoring in a very unladylike manner from one of the deep armchairs.

“Appears my wife could use a nap,” Tom said, not quite meeting his host’s eye.

He walked over to Danielle’s chair and tried to rouse her.

“Let me give you a hand, old man,” offered Woodsworth IV. “No worries. Who among us hasn’t needed a nap at some point.”

Tom gave an embarrassed smile of gratitude and the two men proceeded to lift Danielle to her feet. She roused enough to stumble along.

“I’d better help you the rest of the way,” Woody said. Danielle was the curvaceous sort, not some reed-thin fashion model.

They got to the elevator and, luckily, the ride was only two floors down. Tom managed the key while Frank propped Danielle against his shoulder, hoping she wouldn’t topple. He would no doubt yank his back out if he had to catch her. Inside, Tom led the way to their king-sized bed. She mumbled a bit in her sleep. While Tom removed her shoes and jostled to get the duvet over her, Frank turned discreetly away.

Discreetly enough to spot a heavy gold bracelet and decent diamond dinner ring on the dresser. They were in Frank’s pocket before Tom looked up.

“All right, then,” Woody said, as Tom cleared his throat, still having a hard time looking Frank in the eye. “I’m sure a nice rest and a good dinner will set everything right.”

“See you sometime tomorrow, okay?” Tom said, following him to the door.

“Oh, absolutely. Breakfast, perhaps, in the restaurant. Say, ten-ish?” He gave a formal little bow.

Like hell, he thought as he rode the elevator up. The hotel’s shift change happened at five a.m. and he planned to be in a taxi on his way to the airport at least an hour before that persistent day manager came to work.