of trick. Nolan was working with Adam and Mayhew, or he was working on his own, and all of it had something to do with those wretched movies. “Whatever game you’re playing, it’s not working.”
“Ask Adam Quinn if you don’t believe me.” Nolan waited, as if Claire would run to the telephone. “He’s the one who called in the feds. One of the company accountants found a three-million-dollar wire into a shell company called Little Ham Holdings.”
Claire clenched her jaw shut so she wouldn’t scream. Little Ham had been another one of their nicknames for Mr. Sandwich.
Nolan said to Lydia, “That’s a lot of money, right? Three mill? People like you and me, we could retire on that.”
Claire’s knees felt weak. Her legs were shaking. She had to get Nolan out of here before she had some sort of nervous breakdown. “I want you to leave.”
“I want my wife to stop fucking my neighbor.” Nolan chuckled as if they were all in on the joke. “You know, Claire, the funny thing is that kind of dough is a drop in the bucket for a guy like your husband.” He told Lydia, “Paul’s worth twenty-eight million on paper. Or was worth that much. How much is the insurance policy you have on him?” This question was for Claire, but she didn’t answer because she had no idea. “Another twenty million,” Nolan provided. “Which means you’re worth almost fifty million bucks now, Widow Scott.” He paused to let the information sink in, but Claire was past the point at which she could make sense of anything.
Nolan said, “It was nice of Adam Quinn to settle out of court instead of letting me toss your husband into the federal pen.” He gave Claire a lecherous look. “I guess he found his own way to get your husband back.”
The implied insult knocked her out of her stupor. “What gives you the—”
“Shut up, Claire.” Lydia stood directly in front of her. She told Nolan, “You need to leave.”
Nolan smiled his crocodile smile. “Do I?”
“Are you here to arrest her?”
“Should I be?”
“Number one, back the fuck away from me.”
Nolan took a very deliberate step back. “I can’t wait to hear what number two is.”
“It’s this, asshole: If you want to interrogate her, then call her lawyer to set it up.”
Nolan smiled like a gargoyle. “You know what, Mindy Parker? Now that I’m looking at you, I’m thinking you look a lot like Claire. It’s almost like you two gals could be sisters.”
Lydia didn’t let him get to her. “Get the fuck out.”
Nolan held up his hands in surrender, but he didn’t give in. “It’s just curious, you know. Why is it that a guy worth all those Benjamins steals three mill from his own business?”
Claire felt a sharp pain in her chest. She couldn’t breathe. The ground was moving again. She reached for the wall behind her. She had felt this same way yesterday when she’d fainted.
Nolan said, “Well, I’ll let you ladies get back to enjoying your evening.” He stepped out onto the porch and looked up at the night sky. “Sure is a nice night.”
Lydia slammed the door. She bolted the French lock. She covered her mouth with both hands. Her eyes were wide with fear. They both watched the video display as Fred Nolan shuffled his way down the stone steps and slowly made his way to the car.
Claire looked away. She couldn’t watch anymore, but she couldn’t stop hearing him. The soft click of his car door opening, the loud bang of it being closed. The rumble of the car’s engine. The mechanical groan of the power steering as he turned around and drove back down the driveway.
Lydia dropped her hands. She was breathing as hard as Claire. “What the fuck, Claire?” She stared at Claire with open shock. “What the fucking fuck?”
Claire had lost the fuck two days ago. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Lydia was practically screaming. Her voice echoed off the polished concrete floors and bounced up the metal and glass spiral staircase. “How the fuck can’t you know, Claire?” She started pacing back and forth across the entryway. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe any of it.”
Claire couldn’t believe it, either. The movies. Mayhew. Nolan. Paul’s collection of folders—the ones she knew about, the ones she couldn’t force herself to read. Whatever was going on with Adam Quinn. And now she had been told that Paul was a thief. Three million dollars? Nolan’s estimate of Paul’s net