Truth
Page 101
She smiled, “Okay, but if I forget my name is Rawls, elbow me in the side.”
“If you say so,” Harry teased as they both stepped from the Mustang and moved toward the front door.
Before Harry and Claire could reach the stoop of 100023 Fairway Drive, the wide front door opened. A balding gentleman wearing a black Burberry Brit Zip Hoodie, gray t-shirt, and sweat shorts, stepped outside. If he’d been wearing running shoes instead of flip-flops, he might look as if he was about to jog around the neighborhood. Harry and Claire stopped. The man hastily closed the large front door and rushed toward them.
As the distance narrowed between them, Harry spoke, “Mr. Chester?”
Glancing right and then left, the man answered, “Yes, yes. You must be Mr. Baldwin and Miss Rawls?”
Claire extended her hand, “My name is now Nichols.”
Patrick Chester took her hand and assessed the woman before him. “So are you Anton’s daughter or his cousin?”
Claire’s back straightened. She saw the smile sneak from the corner of Harry’s lips. Yes, she could chronologically be Tony’s daughter, but no one had ever said that to her before. While she fought with her answer, Harry spoke, “Mr. Patrick, Ms. Nichols has been given the responsibility of overseeing certain funds. She’s here today to confirm the need to maintain one of those funds.”
Patrick glanced back toward his house. “Let’s go around to the pool, my family’s in the house. They don’t know anything about my settlement. I’d like to keep it that way.”
Harry replied, “Of course. We’ll follow you.”
He briefly reached for Claire’s hand and squeezed. She chose not to reciprocate, deciding instead to press her lips together and exhale. If he’d known her better, he would’ve understood the displeasure screaming from her eyes. Instead he goaded, “How’s Daddy?”
She leaned closer, “So far, I’m not enlightened!”
They followed Patrick Chester through a large wooden gate situated within the tall stone wall. Entering the rear yard, Claire’s step stuttered at the majesty. A kidney shaped swimming pool surrounded by lavish furniture served as the feature of the lower level. It was a three tiered yard. A few steps up, the next level contained an outdoor living room, complete with fireplace, sofa, chairs, and encased technology center. Currently country music lofted from the speakers. Claire looked even higher and saw an orange grove on the upper level.
“Your yard is beautiful Mr. Chester.” Claire said as she sat at an umbrella covered table near the shallow end of the pool.
“Thank you, Ms. Nichols. I don’t mean to be impolite, but let’s get this over with. This is very unusual and quite frankly, makes me uncomfortable.”
Claire went on, “I was in the area and decided today would be as good as any. Thank you for seeing us.”
Patrick nodded.
Harry went on, “We’re here to confirm you’re the true recipient of the ongoing settlement.”
“Is this some kind of joke? I’ve kept my end of this bargain.” He turned toward Claire, “Your family better keep theirs.”
Without missing a beat, she replied, “Let’s not get hasty. We just have a few questions.” She looked toward Harry.
Harry asked, “Are you certain your original testimony involving the presence of Samuel’s sister has been contained.”
Patrick looked skeptically toward them, and finally answered, “I think I need to see some identification. How do I know you’re who you say you are?”
Claire reached for her purse and grabbed her wallet. Before she could open it, Harry took it from her hand and spoke, “Mr. Chester, how do we know you deserve to see identification?”
“You contacted me.”
“True, but give me something. How do I know you’re the Patrick Chester who Ms. Nichols needs to contact?”
“What do you want?”
“Tell us exactly why you deserve your annual settlement.”
With sarcasm dripping from his voice, Patrick answered, “I don’t remember.”
Harry pushed, “What don’t you remember?”
“You see, that’s the problem. If I remember -- your mom,” he looked toward Claire, “or your aunt -- well, there’s no statute of limitations on murder in California.” Claire remained silent while Harry opened her wallet and handed Patrick her American Express credit card with Claire R. Nichols embossed on the front. Patrick took the card, read it, and handed it back to Harry. Claire watched as each man’s eyes glared back and forth.
She reached for her credit card placed it back in her wallet. Breaking the silence Claire said, “Thank you, Mr. Chester, I’ll relay your information, but I can’t make you any promises regarding future installments.”
His glare turned toward Claire. “I think you can, and you will. Tell Anton my memory’s not so bad for an old man.”
She sat taller, “I will.”
Harry interjected, “Do you really want to threaten the man who’s provided you with all of this?”
Patrick sat back against the chair. “I agreed to meet with you because I wanted to see you.” He tipped his head toward Claire. “I haven’t been able to find or contact Anton in twenty-five years. I wanted confirmation he still exists.”
Harry replied, “Your yearly payments weren’t enough?”
“No trace of their origin. Glad to know he’s still kick’n. He was a good kid.”
“If you say so,” Harry teased as they both stepped from the Mustang and moved toward the front door.
Before Harry and Claire could reach the stoop of 100023 Fairway Drive, the wide front door opened. A balding gentleman wearing a black Burberry Brit Zip Hoodie, gray t-shirt, and sweat shorts, stepped outside. If he’d been wearing running shoes instead of flip-flops, he might look as if he was about to jog around the neighborhood. Harry and Claire stopped. The man hastily closed the large front door and rushed toward them.
As the distance narrowed between them, Harry spoke, “Mr. Chester?”
Glancing right and then left, the man answered, “Yes, yes. You must be Mr. Baldwin and Miss Rawls?”
Claire extended her hand, “My name is now Nichols.”
Patrick Chester took her hand and assessed the woman before him. “So are you Anton’s daughter or his cousin?”
Claire’s back straightened. She saw the smile sneak from the corner of Harry’s lips. Yes, she could chronologically be Tony’s daughter, but no one had ever said that to her before. While she fought with her answer, Harry spoke, “Mr. Patrick, Ms. Nichols has been given the responsibility of overseeing certain funds. She’s here today to confirm the need to maintain one of those funds.”
Patrick glanced back toward his house. “Let’s go around to the pool, my family’s in the house. They don’t know anything about my settlement. I’d like to keep it that way.”
Harry replied, “Of course. We’ll follow you.”
He briefly reached for Claire’s hand and squeezed. She chose not to reciprocate, deciding instead to press her lips together and exhale. If he’d known her better, he would’ve understood the displeasure screaming from her eyes. Instead he goaded, “How’s Daddy?”
She leaned closer, “So far, I’m not enlightened!”
They followed Patrick Chester through a large wooden gate situated within the tall stone wall. Entering the rear yard, Claire’s step stuttered at the majesty. A kidney shaped swimming pool surrounded by lavish furniture served as the feature of the lower level. It was a three tiered yard. A few steps up, the next level contained an outdoor living room, complete with fireplace, sofa, chairs, and encased technology center. Currently country music lofted from the speakers. Claire looked even higher and saw an orange grove on the upper level.
“Your yard is beautiful Mr. Chester.” Claire said as she sat at an umbrella covered table near the shallow end of the pool.
“Thank you, Ms. Nichols. I don’t mean to be impolite, but let’s get this over with. This is very unusual and quite frankly, makes me uncomfortable.”
Claire went on, “I was in the area and decided today would be as good as any. Thank you for seeing us.”
Patrick nodded.
Harry went on, “We’re here to confirm you’re the true recipient of the ongoing settlement.”
“Is this some kind of joke? I’ve kept my end of this bargain.” He turned toward Claire, “Your family better keep theirs.”
Without missing a beat, she replied, “Let’s not get hasty. We just have a few questions.” She looked toward Harry.
Harry asked, “Are you certain your original testimony involving the presence of Samuel’s sister has been contained.”
Patrick looked skeptically toward them, and finally answered, “I think I need to see some identification. How do I know you’re who you say you are?”
Claire reached for her purse and grabbed her wallet. Before she could open it, Harry took it from her hand and spoke, “Mr. Chester, how do we know you deserve to see identification?”
“You contacted me.”
“True, but give me something. How do I know you’re the Patrick Chester who Ms. Nichols needs to contact?”
“What do you want?”
“Tell us exactly why you deserve your annual settlement.”
With sarcasm dripping from his voice, Patrick answered, “I don’t remember.”
Harry pushed, “What don’t you remember?”
“You see, that’s the problem. If I remember -- your mom,” he looked toward Claire, “or your aunt -- well, there’s no statute of limitations on murder in California.” Claire remained silent while Harry opened her wallet and handed Patrick her American Express credit card with Claire R. Nichols embossed on the front. Patrick took the card, read it, and handed it back to Harry. Claire watched as each man’s eyes glared back and forth.
She reached for her credit card placed it back in her wallet. Breaking the silence Claire said, “Thank you, Mr. Chester, I’ll relay your information, but I can’t make you any promises regarding future installments.”
His glare turned toward Claire. “I think you can, and you will. Tell Anton my memory’s not so bad for an old man.”
She sat taller, “I will.”
Harry interjected, “Do you really want to threaten the man who’s provided you with all of this?”
Patrick sat back against the chair. “I agreed to meet with you because I wanted to see you.” He tipped his head toward Claire. “I haven’t been able to find or contact Anton in twenty-five years. I wanted confirmation he still exists.”
Harry replied, “Your yearly payments weren’t enough?”
“No trace of their origin. Glad to know he’s still kick’n. He was a good kid.”
