Brayton rubbed the back of his neck with the damp handkerchief. “Couriers need to be paid. Receipts are signed, tracked, recorded. I don’t want any trace of this operation.” He glanced at the shut door and lowered his voice. “There are people who might use this against me.”
“And Molly.”
He drew back as if touched with a live wire. “And her, as well. Michael told me you could keep it quiet, keep it under your hat.”
“I’m good at keeping secrets.” I tried not to choke on the words.
“Here’s the address she’s staying at.” He scribbled a note on a piece of paper and shoved it across the desk. “It’s a hotel. She gave up her apartment when she had the boy. I’m paying for it—when the agreement is finalized she’ll be moving west. It’s all for the best.” He reached for a plain brown envelope and stuffed the folder inside.
I stood up and took the note and the envelope. “Does your wife suspect anything?”
“I hope not.” His lower lip trembled. “I hope to God not.”
I didn’t tell him the odds were not in his favor. It’d been my experience that most women knew when their men were stepping out on them. My money was on a nasty divorce within the next year or so for David Brayton.
He swallowed loudly. “I need this done quickly and quietly.”
I stuffed the envelope into my messenger bag, trying not to feel dirty. “Let me get going. The faster I get there and back the faster we’re done.”
With Michael Hanover, my inner voice snapped.
I gestured at the phone on his desk. “Give me your business card. I’ll call if there’s any problems.” I tapped my pocket and the cell phone inside.
He handed over the gold-embossed card along with a couple of twenty-dollar bills. “For the cabs. Don’t worry about giving me any change back; keep what’s left.”
I looked at him with my best professional face on, the one I reserved for troublesome clients. “Let me point out that if I find you’ve coerced her into this, any part of this, in any way, I will not only advise her not to sign but I’ll help her find a good lawyer and rip you to pieces. Hanover might be purchasing my services but neither of you can afford my soul.”
It had to be said. I wasn’t going to be part of any deal forcing this woman to do anything against her will.
I could deal with Hanover’s blackmail.
I wouldn’t be responsible for pushing an innocent woman down an unwanted path.
Another beaded line of sweat appeared on his forehead.
I walked out.
The receptionist gave me a respectful smile and nod as I passed her spotless desk.
A long line of cabs waiting at the taxi stand, politely waiting to be called into service. I waved the first car over with a wave and watched the driver leap behind the wheel and drive toward me.
The hairs on the back of my neck tingled.
I turned back toward the crystal palaces surrounding me. Someone was watching me. It could have been a curious visitor staring out of a window waiting for his chance to dump more money into the investment game.
It was more likely Hanover making sure I was busy dancing to his perverse tune.
I resisted the urge to wave and got into the cab.
Much to my surprise the hotel wasn’t one of the dives on Lakeshore Boulevard, selling rooms by the hour, but a clean respectable one off of Yonge Street. Tucked between a movie theater and a pricey shoe shop, the hotel catered to tourists looking to stay right in the middle of the city’s downtown action.
The doorman gripped the brass doorknob as I exited the cab. He touched the brim of his cap and smiled.
This wasn’t any cheap dive. This was a luxury hotel catering to rich visitors.
“Welcome to the Belmont Arms.” He swept his arm inward. “The front desk is right over there.”
I almost tripped over the deep, luxurious scarlet carpet, anchoring a series of chairs and couches that definitely weren’t from the secondhand store. The décor was typical tourist chic with framed pictures of Lake Ontario and other scenic Toronto highlights circling around on the walls while low classic music hummed out of invisible speakers. Two large groups clustered around the front desk, elderly tourists waiting for their guide. The harried clerk waved her arms in the air as she tried to herd one group to the side.
I bypassed the desk and headed for the elevator. Molly Callendar was on the second floor at the far end of the corridor, right by the emergency exit stairs.
A breakfast tray sat on the floor by the door, the remains of stuffed French toast and coffee waiting to be removed.
My stomach growled, reminding me I’d rushed out before grabbing anything to eat. I made a mental note to stop by the hot dog vendor when this was all over.
I rapped on the door and waited. Darkness covered the spyhole and I knew she was there assessing whether to open the door to me.
After a few seconds the door opened.
“Hello. You must be the courier.”
Molly Callendar wasn’t anything like what I expected. Instead of a witless young woman who tripped into an office affair I saw a tall, slender woman close to my own age with short red hair brushing her shoulders. She smiled at me and stepped back to allow me to enter.
The harsh chemical smell told me she’d recently colored her hair. It made sense considering she was about to relocate and wanted to change her appearance. An oversized flowery blouse and blue jeans completed the image of harried mother.
“I’m Rebecca.” I scanned the room behind her automatically. Standard hotel issue, including a kitchenette. A portable crib sat in the far corner. “You’re Molly Callendar?”
“Yes. You must be from David’s office.” She gestured me in with a nervous glance into the hallway. Molly closed and locked the door before moving to sit on the couch, motioning for me to join her.
I sat opposite her in an overstuffed dark red chair, then pulled the envelope out of my messenger bag. “I brought the agreement for you to look over. Before we get started I have to ask—are you being forced into this? Is he threatening you in any way? Are you or the baby afraid for your life?”
“No, not at all.”
I heard the truth in her voice. My shoulder muscles eased up, the tension rushing out of them as I watched her.
“I have to ask, you understand.” I passed over the envelope. “I want to make sure you’re doing this of your own volition. If you think you’re in danger I can take you to a shelter, someplace safe for you and the baby.” I knew I sounded paranoid but I’d seen angry men lash out at anything, anyone vulnerable if they felt they weren’t getting what they perceived as their fair part.
There was no one more vulnerable than a mother and her newborn.
She nodded. “Thank you. I’m sure there might be women who fall into that sort of situation but I’m not one of them.” The wad of legal documents fell onto her lap from the overturned envelope. “David’s a nice fellow but we both got...stupid.” Molly shook her head. “Both of us were fools. I should have known better, taken more precautions. I knew he wasn’t going to leave his wife but it was the right time and the right place.” She glanced at the crib, a gentle smile replacing the sadness of talking about her ex-lover. “But I can’t be too mad at the man. He did give me Liam.”
I glanced over as she flipped through the pages. “Liam. Lovely name.”
“Runs in my family. He’ll be the third generation. My father has it as a middle name and my grandfather had it as a first.” She picked up a pen from the table, monogrammed with the hotel’s name, and turned her attention to the forms. “Excuse me.”
“Take as long as you need.” I sat back. “There’s no rush. Make sure you read everything through and understand what’s being proposed and agreed to. If you have any questions, ask. I’m not a lawyer but I might be able to help you decipher the legalspeak.”