Chapter 11 - THE WOMAN WHO SERVED TABLE FOURTEEN
Claire did not return Avery's calls.
Hawthorne House said she had resigned that morning.
No notice.
No explanation.
Her apartment was empty.
Avery stood in Claire's office after closing.
Four years.
That was how long she had worked beside the woman.
Claire had hired her.
Protected her from rude guests.
Covered shifts when Lily—the bartender's daughter, not part of this story—sorry, Avery's coworker's child? No. There had been no Lily in this storyline.
Avery shook off the thought.
Claire had been part of the restaurant.
Reliable.
Practical.
Sharp.
And now she was sitting beside Charles Whitaker.
Nicholas stood at the doorway.
“You knew her well?”
“I thought I did.”
“That is becoming a theme.”
Avery looked at him.
“Not helpful.”
“I know.”
She searched Claire's desk.
Nothing unusual.
Schedules.
Vendor invoices.
Wine lists.
Then Avery opened the bottom drawer.
Locked.
Nicholas stepped forward.
“I can have someone open it.”
Avery pulled a butter knife from the service station.
“Avery.”
“What?”
“You are breaking into your manager's desk with restaurant cutlery.”
“She resigned.”
“That does not make this legal.”
Avery stopped.
Then handed him the knife.
“Fine.”
Nicholas smiled faintly.
“Growth.”
Police obtained permission from Hawthorne House's owner twenty minutes later.
The drawer contained an old photograph.
Bianca Marino.
Claire.
And Charles Whitaker.
All three standing outside Hawthorne House nearly twenty-five years earlier.
Avery stared.
“Claire knew your mother.”
Nicholas looked stunned.
On the back, handwritten:
Hawthorne House Staff Christmas, 2001.
Sofia recognized Claire immediately.
“Clarissa Bennett.”
Avery looked at her.
“You knew her?”
“She worked here before it became this restaurant.”
Nicholas frowned.
“Hawthorne House used to be a private club.”
Sofia nodded.
“Bianca worked events there when she first came to America.”
Avery went still.
Nicholas's mother had not been born into wealth.
She had helped build Marino Atlantic after years of ordinary work.
Avery remembered what Nicholas said at dinner.
Neither did my mother when she helped build the company's first offices.
Sofia touched the photograph.
“Clarissa and Bianca were friends.”
“What happened?”
“I don't know.”
Bellini did.
They called him.
His answer changed everything.
“Claire Bennett testified privately in Bianca's internal investigation.”
Nicholas gripped the phone.
“About Whitaker?”
“Yes.”
“Why wasn't that in the files?”
“She withdrew her statement.”
“Why?”
Bellini hesitated.
“Money.”
Avery closed her eyes.
Claire had been paid.
But then something bothered her.
“If Claire helped Whitaker, why keep the photograph?”
No one answered.
Avery looked at the date.
Twenty-five years.
People did not keep photographs of someone they felt nothing about for twenty-five years.
The next morning, Avery received an envelope at Marino Atlantic.
No return address.
Inside was a key.
A storage-unit number.
And a handwritten message.
You were right to stop the water. Bianca would have liked you.
Nicholas read it.
“No.”
“No what?”
“You are not going.”
“Obviously I am going.”
“Federal agents can go.”
“They will.”
“Then you stay here.”
Avery stared.
Nicholas stared back.
Sofia entered, saw them, and sighed.
“What now?”
“He thinks I should stay home.”
“I think you should avoid walking into anonymous storage facilities connected to my mother's suspected murder.”
Sofia considered.
“That is unusually reasonable.”
Avery frowned.
“Both of you are annoying.”
Agents searched the unit first.
No explosives.
No person.
No trap.
Only boxes.
Avery entered afterward with Nicholas.
The first box contained newspaper clippings about Bianca's death.
The second contained internal Marino memos.
The third contained letters.
Bianca to Claire.
Dozens.
Avery read one.
Clarissa, Charles frightens me because everyone thinks he is kind. Cruel men are easier when they look cruel.
Avery stopped.
The sentence sounded familiar.
Not identical.
But familiar.
The same lesson Avery had learned serving wealthy people.
She opened another.
Nicholas thinks strength means never letting anyone see him scared. I worry he learned that from his father.
Nicholas turned away.
Avery touched his arm.
The final box contained a cassette recorder.
Old.
Battery-powered.
And one tape.
Label:
B.M. — SEPTEMBER 4
Three days before Bianca died.
Federal investigators transferred the audio safely.
Bianca's voice filled the small evidence room.
“I met Charles tonight.”
Static.
“He knows I copied the account records.”
Nicholas closed his eyes.
Bianca continued.
“He said if I expose him, Nicholas will lose the company before he is old enough to understand what happened.”
Then another voice.
Claire.
“You have to go to police.”
“I need proof.”
“You have proof.”
“Not enough.”
Claire began crying.
“Bianca, please.”
Then a knock.
The recording stopped.
Avery stared at the speaker.
Claire had not sounded like an accomplice.
She had sounded terrified.
The tape resumed minutes later.
Bianca whispered alone.
“If anything happens to me, Clarissa knows where the second ledger is.”
The recording ended.
Nicholas stood.
“Second ledger.”
Bellini looked stunned.
“I never knew.”
Avery looked around the storage unit.
“Where is Claire?”
A phone buzzed inside one of the boxes.
Everyone froze.
A cheap prepaid phone.
One message appeared.
STOP LOOKING. I KEPT YOU ALIVE ONCE. I CANNOT DO IT TWICE.
Nicholas grabbed the phone.
“Claire.”
Avery read it again.
I kept you alive once.
“You?”
Nicholas frowned.
Avery shook her head.
“Not me.”
She looked at him.
“She means you.”
Nicholas went silent.
A second message appeared.
ASK SOFIA WHY NICHOLAS WAS NOT IN BIANCA’S CAR THAT NIGHT.
Nicholas stopped breathing.
He turned toward his mother.
Sofia's face had gone completely pale.
And Avery knew before Sofia said a word.
There was another secret.
May you like
One she had carried for more than twenty years.
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