Patricia Dusenbury - Claire Marshall 01 - A Perfect Victim (2 page)

The white clapboard colonial her parents bought when she was in third grade hadn't
changed, but time's passage showed in the yard. The maple tree she'd helped Dad plant stood forty
feet tall. The shrubbery around the front porch had grown, maybe a little too much. Claire made a
mental note to ask her mother if she wanted it trimmed, and climbed familiar steps to the front
porch.

A note on the hall table said, "Gone shopping, back soon, call Jack at your office."

She hurried to her room and dialed the number. Her partner wouldn't have interrupted her
vacation unless there was a serious problem.

He picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, it's me," she said. "What's happening?"

"The bank returned Frank Palmer's check. Forty thousand dollars we thought we had in the
bank isn't there."

"There must be a mistake." She'd written checks against that deposit and mailed them
before leaving town. A bunch of bad checks would destroy the financial credibility she'd worked so
hard to build. Subs and suppliers would start demanding payment in advance. Without credit,
Authentic Restorations would be back on the ropes.

"It has to be a mistake," she repeated. "Frank's a wealthy man."

"The bank says no mistake. I can call Palmer, but I wanted to talk to you first." He cleared
his throat. "I'm thinking he stopped payment."

"Why would he do that? He's happy with our work."

"Last time I saw him, he didn't look happy."

Jack was right; Frank had been livid.

He'd stopped by the office to suggest she visit his fish camp down in the bayou country. He
had mentioned rebuilding the cabin before and said he wanted to surprise his fishing buddies by
keeping the project a secret until it was finished. She'd been noncommittal about a small job that far
from town. Now he wanted her to see exactly what he had in mind, a major renovation that would,
he promised, be worth her while. He was anxious to get started. She explained that she'd be out of
town all week and suggested Jack go. They'd already talked about it. Frank had exploded,
white-lipped with fury because she'd told Jack about his secret project. For a moment, she'd thought he
might actually hit her.

Jack's arrival had defused the situation, and the next day, Frank apologized for being
unreasonable. Of course, she had to discuss potential projects with her business partner. He'd been
caught off guard, because she hadn't seemed interested in the job. He'd been distracted, upset about
something else and had taken it out on her. None of his excuses made any sense to her, but she'd
accepted his apology and moved on.

"The check was for work on his cottage in town," she said. "The fuss was about the cabin at
his fish camp, and it's all blown over. I'm meeting him down there next Wednesday."

"So, do you want me to call him?"

"No. I'll do it." She told him not to worry but knew he would. Jack had a family to support, a
mortgage and, before she came on board, a close brush with financial disaster. Any hint of money
problems sent him into a tailspin.

Finances were her responsibility now, and she'd better do something fast. She dialed
Frank's direct line, and his secretary answered, a bad sign.

"Good morning, Jeanette. It's Claire Marshall. Is Frank available?"

"He's gone fishing. Do you want him to call you when he gets back?"

"Sooner if possible, please. I'm in Michigan. Let me give--"

"I know where you are," Jeanette interrupted. "Frank wanted you to go down to his fish
camp with him, but you couldn't because it's your mother's birthday."

"He told you?" Frank, who threw a fit because she discussed his cabin with her partner, had
told his secretary?

"Of course. I keep his calendar. You've never been down there, have you?"

"No, but--"

"I hate the bayou country. I don't even like driving through. I mean, what happens if you're
in an accident or your tire blows out or something and you end up in that nasty black water? It's full
of horrible things. Half the time what looks like an old log is really an alligator. And snakes--they're
the worst. A moccasin will attack a full-grown man."

Jeanette paused for breath, and Claire grabbed the opportunity to leave the swamps
behind. "Do you have a number where I can reach him."

"Uh-uh. It's the middle of nowhere. There's no telephone, and his mobile phone doesn't
work down there."

"When he checks in, please ask him to call me. It's important."

"If he checks in," Jeanette corrected her. "When you couldn't go, he decided to take Hatch
fishing. The two of them go way out in the Gulf, lots of times overnight. Now I like the Gulf--"

"There must be a way to contact him." The CEO of a major commercial construction
company would have to stay in touch or, at least, be reachable.

"He'll be back tomorrow. I can't believe he didn't tell you. Frank is the Crescent City Club's
Citizen of the Year. You know, for his work with The Children's Home. The ceremony is tomorrow
night. It's a real honor."

"I'm sure it's well deserved." She rested her forehead against the windowpane. Outside, a
red leaf circled slowly downward, fluttering in the breeze, while Frank's secretary babbled about
his volunteer work. The leaf reached the ground.

"Let me give you my mother's number. Frank has it but maybe not with him."

"He's not going to lose your number." Jeanette's tone became girlish. "You don't need to
pretend with me, Claire Marshall. You're unhappy because you can't talk to Frank, but he'll be
back." She giggled. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Excuse me?"

"I know it's a secret, but he had to tell me." Another giggle. "I'm making your honeymoon
reservations."

"What?" Claire gasped.

"The only other person who knows is Sherry, in bookkeeping. She's my best friend. I had to
tell her, but it's okay. She won't tell anyone."

"Frank and I have a business relationship. Business, that's all. I don't know where--"

"He was so broken up after Annie Lewis died. I never thought he'd get married again.
Neither did Sherry." Jeanette rattled on as if Claire hadn't spoken. "And you're so young, I never
would have guessed you're a widow, but he told me all about it." A loud sigh. "Both of you lost the
person you loved, but now you've found each other."

"No one's found anyone. Frank and I are not in love. We are not getting married. We're not
even dating. My company is restoring a property that Frank owns."

"I know. It's a secret romance."

"There's no romance, secret or otherwise. There is a problem with a check." Claire spoke
through clenched teeth. "Can someone else help me?"

"Sherry writes all the checks, but Frank gave her the week off, you know, because he wasn't
going to be around."

"Please have him call me as soon as possible."

She returned the receiver to its cradle, gently, not the slam that would have been more
satisfying.
Honeymoon reservations? Where had that come from? If Jeanette stopped talking long
enough to listen, she might get her stories straight.
She cursed Frank's long-winded secretary
and dialed her office. Jack would have bitten his fingernails to the quick by now.

As soon as she said hello, he asked, "What did Palmer say?"

"I couldn't reach him," she admitted. "Who'd you talk to at the bank? I'll call their
boss."

"I worked my way up to the branch manager, who wasn't giving an inch."

"I can go higher. Frank introduced me to Bobby Austin a couple weeks ago. Hold on while I
look for his card."

"Bobby Austin who runs the bank?"

"Uh huh." Frank had said Bobby was both his banker and his best friend. Asking Bobby for
help might be seen as an imposition, but she was desperate. She held the phone between her
shoulder and her ear and rummaged through her pocketbook. "Here it is. Let's hope he remembers
me."

The woman who answered the phone sounded doubtful, but moments later Bobby came on
the line. "Claire, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

She described the situation, hoping he couldn't hear her desperation. They both knew the
construction industry was littered with small firms gone belly up due to cash flow problems. And
without Frank's check, Authentic Restorations had more flow than cash.

"There's no reaching Frank when he's gone fishing," Bobby agreed. "But don't worry, we'll
cover his check. Tell your partner to bring it to any branch and have the teller call my office. We're
open until four this afternoon."

"Thank you, Bobby." Her shoulders relaxed, and she realized they'd been hunched up
around her ears. She had more than money invested in Authentic Restorations. "Jack Giordano will
be at your Saint Charles branch within the hour."

"Frank can be careless about details, but he's a good man."

"I appreciate your taking time to help me." Maybe Frank was a good man, maybe not, but
Bobby had earned a gold star in her book. "I know you're busy."

"My pleasure. And Claire, Frank told me about your plans."

"What plans?" Had Frank told Bobby about fixing up the cabin?

"Have it your way." He chuckled. "Your secret's safe with me. And I'm very happy for both
of you."

"But we're not... There's no..." Claire realized she was protesting to a dial tone. Bobby had
hung up. She stared, befuddled, at the receiver in her hand. Could Frank be telling his friends that
they planned to marry? Why on earth would he do that? They hardly knew each other.

She searched her memory for anything that indicated romantic interest on Frank's part and
found nothing except, perhaps, the watch. He had insisted on driving her to the airport, part of his
penance for being unreasonable, he'd said. He pulled up in front of the terminal and walked around
to get her suitcase out of the backseat while she waited on the sidewalk. Then, instead of handing it
over and driving away, he put his hand on her arm. He apologized again for losing his temper and
said he was very pleased with the work her firm was doing.

"I don't want you deciding I'm more trouble than I'm worth." He slipped an oblong box into
her jacket pocket. "Open it after I leave."

Inside the terminal, she'd opened the box, expecting a nice pen, and been surprised by a
sparkly watch. Costume jewelry was an odd present for a business acquaintance. She told herself
that Frank meant well. He just wasn't accustomed to female colleagues--or to apologizing. She'd
tucked it into her suitcase, planning to write a thank you note when she returned to New Orleans,
and boarded her plane.

Maybe she ought to take another look.

She pulled her suitcase out from under the bed and retrieved the box. The watch really was
pretty, an art deco design in white metal embellished with dozens of glittering stones. She took it
out of the box and turned it over. Elegant letters engraved on the back spelled
Piaget
and,
beneath that,
18K
. Piaget didn't make costume jewelry. The metal was white gold, and those
stones were diamonds.

"Did you see my note?" Her mother stood in the doorway.

"I did, thank you." Her hand closed around the watch. If her mother saw this extravagant
gift, she'd jump to the wrong conclusion about her relationship with Frank. Anyone would.

"What have you got there?"

"A rhinestone bracelet," Claire lied. "I bought it this morning. Jack's wife has a birthday next
week, and she likes sparkly things." She returned the watch to its box and closed the lid.

"Are you hungry? I picked up deli sandwiches for lunch. Hot pastrami."

"My favorite, thank you." Claire found a smile. "I have one more quick call. I'll be through by
the time you unwrap them."

Her mother went downstairs, and she called Jack to give him the good news.

"I'll be at the bank in ten minutes," he said, "unless I have a heart attack on the way."

"Bobby Austin, himself, told me not to worry. I'm passing it on."

She'd mailed the checks Monday afternoon before leaving for the airport, too late for a
Tuesday delivery. People would have gotten them yesterday at the earliest, more likely today.
Maybe everything was going to be okay. She hoped the knot in her stomach left room for a pastrami
sandwich.

After lunch, Claire called Jack again. He hadn't called back, which meant the bank must
have honored Frank's check, but the more she thought about the situation the less comfortable she
felt. Jack was happy to reassure her.

"The minute I walked in, the manager hurried over with his hand out and a big smile on his
face. No kidding." He laughed. "I looked to see who was standing behind me."

"Did you tell him I've already written checks against the deposit?"

"If any checks bounced, the bank will take full responsibility and say it was their mistake. I
don't know what you said to Austin, but it worked like magic."

Jack's story heightened Claire's unease. Bobby must have called the branch manager, and
he wouldn't have done that unless he thought she and Frank "had plans" as he put it. Jeanette was
an airhead, but being asked to make honeymoon reservations would be hard to misinterpret.

"Has Frank called the office?"

"Nope."

"Don't do any more work on his cottage until I talk to him. Shift the crew over to the
Esplanade project."

"You said there wasn't any problem."

"I want to be sure there isn't. Better safe than sorry. Right?" Claire ended the call on a light
note she didn't feel.

If Frank was telling people they planned to marry, there was a big problem. As bizarre as
that was, she could think of no other explanation, and she couldn't bear to have people thinking she
was involved with him, much less engaged. She called the airline and switched her return flight
from Sunday evening to tomorrow morning. Then she called Frank's office and told Jeanette she'd
be flying back to New Orleans tomorrow and would like to schedule an appointment with Frank any
time after two.