I smiled. “He obviously had a good feeling about you from the start.”
She tried to smile back, but the tears coming down her cheeks wouldn’t let her. She began wiping them away while apologizing. I assured her that it was more than okay, that I understood. Actually the scene was kind of touching. Or she’s very good.
“Connor had already given me so much, and now this.” She wiped away another tear. “And what I wouldn’t give to have him back.”
Nora took a long sip of her coffee. I did the same.
“So, what’s supposed to happen? I assume I’ve got to sign some stuff before the payout is made, right?”
I leaned forward a bit on the table and gripped my mug with both hands. “Well, you see, that’s why I’m here, Ms. Sinclair. There’s a little bit of a problem.”
Chapter 31
HE KIND OF sounded like an insurance man, but he didn’t really look like one to Nora.
For starters, she noticed that he wasn’t that bad a dresser. The tie matched the suit, and the suit had actually been in style sometime during this decade.
Another thing was that he had a nice personality. The few insurance guys she’d met before seemed to have about as much charisma as a cardboard box. In fact, all things considered, Craig Reynolds was an attractive man. Nicely put together. He also drove a pretty good car. Then again, thought Nora, this was Briarcliff Manor, not the East Bronx. To manage the field office for a big insurance company in this neck of the woods, you’d kind of have to look the part.
Still, she wasn’t about to let her guard down.
She’d been watching Craig Reynolds carefully and making mental notes—from the moment he first showed up to when he wrapped his hands around his coffee mug and announced that there was “a little bit of a problem” with Connor’s policy.
“What sort of problem?” she asked.
“Ultimately, I don’t think it will be much of one at all. The thing is, because of Mr. Brown’s relatively young age, they’ve decided to investigate the claim.”
“Who’s they?”
“The home office back in Chicago. They basically call the shots.”
“You don’t have any say in the matter?”
“Not too much in this case. As I mentioned, Mr. Brown’s policy originated in our corporate division, which is run from the home office. Who services it, however, is based on proximity to the client. Meaning, if it wasn’t for the pending investigation, I’d be the one handling everything.”
“So if you’re not, who is?”
“I haven’t been told yet, but if I had to guess, it’s going to be a man by the name of John O’Hara.”
“Do you know him?”
“Only by reputation.”
“Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“When you said that, you frowned a little.”
“No, it’s no big deal. Supposedly, O’Hara’s a hard-ass—pardon my language—but that’s par for the course with an insurance investigator. From what I can tell, this should be a routine inquiry.”
As Craig Reynolds reached for his coffee again, Nora made another mental note: no wedding band.
“How do you like the vanilla hazelnut?” she asked.
“Tastes even better than it smells.”
She sat back in her chair. Having already turned off her tears, she gave Craig Reynolds a pleasant smile. He came across as caring and thoughtful. Better yet, she noticed that when he smiled back at her, his cheeks produced a cute pair of dimples. Too bad he doesn’t have any money.
Not that Nora was complaining. From where she was sitting, Craig Reynolds the insurance man was worth $1.9 million. It was a windfall she wasn’t about to turn down. The only wrinkle was the investigation. Routine as it sounded, it made her nervous.
But not overly so. She had a very good plan, and it was made to hold up to scrutiny. By the police, by the coroner’s office, by the likes of anyone or anything that might stand in her way. And that certainly included an insurance investigation.
Just the same, after Craig Reynolds left the house that afternoon, she decided it might be a good idea to make herself scarce for the next few days. She was supposed to see Jeffrey that weekend anyway. Maybe she’d go up a day early and surprise him.
He was, after all, her husband.
Chapter 32
THE NEXT MORNING, a Friday, Nora walked out of the house in Westchester and popped open the trunk of her Benz convertible parked in front. In went her suitcase. The weatherman on TV had promised nothing but blue skies and sun with the temperature reaching a high of eighty. A “top-down day” if there ever was one.
Nora pressed the button on her keyless remote and watched as the roof of the car began to recede quietly. That’s when another car caught her eye. What the hell?
Out on Central Drive, parked under towering maples and oaks, was the same BMW as the day before. And sitting in the front with his sunglasses on was the insurance man. Craig Reynolds.
What’s he doing back here?
One sure way to find out. Nora started to walk straight for his car. She thought he’d been so friendly when they first met. But now, this… watching her from his car. It was a little creepy. Or worse, a little suspicious. Which was why she cautioned herself not to overreact.
Craig saw her coming and promptly hopped out of his Beemer. He began walking toward her in his tan summer-weight suit. He gave her a friendly wave.
They met halfway.
Nora tilted her head and smiled. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were spying.”
“If that’s the case, I probably should’ve chosen a better hiding place, huh?” He smiled back. “My apologies—it’s not what it looks like. Actually, you can blame the Mets for this.”
“An entire baseball team?”
“Yes, including the general manager. I was about to pull into your driveway when the Fan went to a commercial break, saying the club was about to make a big trade with Houston. So I pulled over to listen.”
She gave him a blank look. “The Fan?”
“It’s an all-sports radio station.”
“I see. So you weren’t spying?”
“Nope. I’m no James Bond. Just a long-suffering Mets season-ticket holder.”
Nora nodded. She figured either Craig Reynolds was telling the truth or he was a born liar. “What were you coming to see me about?” she asked.
“Good news, actually. John O’Hara, that guy I told you about from the home office, has definitely been placed in charge of the investigation into Mr. Brown’s death.”
“I thought that wasn’t supposed to be such good news.”
“No, but this part is. I talked to him early this morning and he said he thought there wouldn’t be any problems.”
“That is good.”
“Better yet, I got him to fast-track the thing. He gave me his hard-line spiel about not giving special treatment, but I asked him to do it since the Westchester office has been such a rainmaker for the company. Anyway, I just thought you’d want to know.”
“I appreciate it, Mr. Reynolds. It’s a nice surprise.”
“Please, call me Craig.”
“In that case, call me Nora.”
“Nora it is.” He glanced over her shoulder at the red convertible in the driveway, the trunk still up. “Taking a trip?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.”
“Anywhere interesting?”
“That depends on your opinion of south Florida.”
“As they say, it’s a nice place to visit but I wouldn’t want to vote there.”
She chuckled. “I’ll have to use that one on my client in Palm Beach. Or maybe not.”