Payback. Jasmine Cresswell

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СКАЧАТЬ references for prospective renters. After some persuasion, a clerk parted with the information that all applicants are required to provide a security deposit equal to three months’ rent. If the applicant’s check clears, the rest of the credit check is cursory. Renters are required to provide a work phone number, and this number is always called. However, since applicants provide the work number themselves, they—in this case, Mr. Jones—have complete control over how the call is answered. Mr. Jones could pretend that a caller had reached the Australian embassy, and then provide himself with a glowing reference. Child’s play for anyone with experience in setting up a scam. Sometimes I wonder why anybody in this country bothers to be honest, when deception and fraud are so easy.

      Bottom line: Anyone wanting to rent accommodations at the Elm Street location could use almost whatever name they pleased with little risk of having their alias exposed.

      Let me know if you need to investigate further. Sincerely, George Klein.

      P.S. Invoice attached.

      Four

      October 12, 2007

      Tim, one of the sous-chefs at Luciano’s on Chestnut, stuck his head around Luke’s open office door. “There’s a woman waiting to see you in the main dining room. Says she arranged to meet you here.”

      Luke glanced up from the stack of vendor accounts he was checking, one of his least-favorite chores. “Is it Mrs. Fairfax?”

      “Could be. Something like that. Sorry, you know me and names.” Tim, who happily obsessed over the most obscure herbs and heirloom vegetables, and agonized over precise details of recipes, had only a perfunctory interest in the humans who would eventually consume his dishes. He gave Luke a casually apologetic salute and moved on to the kitchen.

      Luke made his way into the dining room, breathing in the faint aroma of freshly chopped herbs. The restaurant was closed at this early hour of the morning, the tables shrouded in starched gray linen cloths, waiting for the stemmed water goblets, silverware and signature damask napkins that would be added later.

      Even now, five years after the grand opening of his flagship restaurant, Luke’s heart still beat a little faster each time he walked across the stylish dining room. This morning he was especially aware of the fact that his success would have been impossible without Ron Raven. His requests for financing to start his own restaurant had been turned down by half the banks in Chicago. He was too young, the bankers said, not even thirty, with grand ideas but insufficient practical experience. Besides, restaurants were a notoriously risky investment.

      And then he catered a meal for Raven Enterprises and everything changed. Ron agreed to underwrite the first Luciano’s to the tune of a quarter million dollars in exchange for twenty-five percent of the equity. The restaurant had been a success almost from opening night, and plenty of banks had fallen over themselves to finance Luke’s next two ventures. But the undeniable bottom line was that without Ron, there would have been no Luciano’s.

      Luke had wrestled with the question of what he owed Ron for several days before finally placing his call to Avery Fairfax. In the end, he’d decided this couldn’t be about gratitude toward Ron; this had to be about honesty owed to Ron’s wife and daughter.

      He pushed lingering doubts aside and smiled a greeting at the slender, elegant woman waiting by the door. “Avery! It’s great to see you again. Thanks for making the trip across town.”

      Avery Fairfax turned to him, her classic features warmed by the friendliness of her smile. “Luke, how are you? It’s been much too long. I’ve missed you.”

      He shook her hand since Avery wasn’t the sort of woman who invited random hugs. “I missed you, too.” He was surprised at how true that was. “Can I get you something to eat? A croissant? Some coffee? Juice?”

      “Thank you, but I only finished breakfast a few minutes ago.”

      “Then let’s go into my office. We have more hope of being left alone there.” Luke escorted her through the dining room and pulled out a chair across from his desk as soon as they reached his office. Avery sank into the seat, managing to look entirely comfortable without slumping, crossing her legs or disturbing the perfect lines of her tweed skirt.

      “You look very well,” Luke said truthfully.

      “I feel well, too. Or perhaps energized would be a better word. October is always my favorite month and the weather’s been heavenly for the past few days, don’t you think?”

      “Perfect, especially in contrast to the rotten summer we had this year.” The phone rang. Luke ignored the ring and pressed the button to switch his calls through to voice mail. “Did you manage to escape from the city during those hot spells back in June and July?”

      “Only for the odd day, now and again. I was too busy selling the penthouse. Fortunately, we managed to find a buyer before the real estate market totally tanked. The new owners are a couple from India who’ve just moved to the States and they were eager to buy a lot of the furniture, too, which suited me very well. So it was a successful transaction all around, with happy buyers and a contented seller.”

      Luke hoped the sale of the penthouse had left Avery financially secure. She undoubtedly needed the money. Even if Ron had made a will and left her a decent share of his estate, Luke doubted if she would see a penny of her inheritance anytime soon. There would surely be years of litigation over the disposition of the estate, even if all the parties tried to be reasonable. The tabloids had mentioned something about a three-million-dollar debt hanging over the heads of Ron’s Wyoming family, so it seemed safe to assume both wives had suffered major financial blows when Ron disappeared.

      “Have you decided where you’re going to live now the penthouse is sold?” he asked Avery, wondering how the complicated Raven family finances would ever be unraveled if Ron was officially declared alive again. Just contemplating the potential legal nightmare of getting the estate back out of probate had Luke questioning his decision all over again.

      “At first, I thought about moving back to Georgia,” Avery said. “Then I realized that would be silly. It’s so long since I’ve lived anywhere other than Chicago that my roots are here now. So I’m about to move into a small house in Wicker Park.”

      “That’s one of my favorite neighborhoods.” It was where Kate lived, too, so Avery was moving away from the superexpensive lakeside and closer to her daughter. Wicker Park was a younger, trendier neighborhood than the only-millionaires-need-apply Gold Coast.

      “I like my new neighborhood better the more I explore. Actually, I’m rather excited. Not just about the house, but about my prospects generally. I’ve started a small business and discovered that I very much enjoy being gainfully employed.”

      “That’s great, Avery!”

      Her smile turned into an outright laugh. “You should never play poker, Luke, you’d be wiped out in a couple of hands. I know everyone thinks I’m a useless social butterfly with all the management skills of a potted plant, but I’m actually quite efficient.”

      “I’m sure you are.”

      “You’re not sure at all.” Avery seemed amused by his doubts, not offended. “I’m like a lot of other Southern women of my generation, a great deal more competent than I look. We were brought up to hide our capabilities and defer to our husbands and flutter our eyelashes if any of the gentlemen discussed politics or money at the dinner table. But the truth is, СКАЧАТЬ