The Lazarus Trap

by Davis Bunn

  “But you’re different.”

  “We’re standing here talking, aren’t we?”

  Val fought the words around the steel band constricting his chest. “So you’re looking for a reason not to fleece me.”

  “See, I knew you were smart.”

  Val struggled to think beyond the world of trouble inside that guy’s gaze. Things he had no interest in ever coming closer to than the other side of this counter. “Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say we agree the watch is, what you said.”

  “Down payment.”

  “Right. And I accept what you’re telling me. That I’ve got to pay you twice. Now I owe you for two services. Not one. First, I pay you for making the call. And second, I pay for you to keep me safe from everything bad out there I don’t want to know about.”

  “Now you’re talking.” Vince eased back. The threat slipped a notch. “Now you’re thinking street.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “You get me the passport and you keep me safe. When I get where I’m going, I promise to wire you another ten thousand dollars.”

  “I’m thinking more like twenty.”

  There was no arguing with that face. “Twenty it is.”

  “You’re asking me to take a serious risk here.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “You’re asking me to make an investment in your future. Do I take you now, or do I take this chance you’re an honorable man? I’ve done this before. Guys nobody else would’ve given a dime, I’ve loaned them a ton of money. Every week, I don’t have to go looking for them. I don’t have to call them on the phone. They show up. They appreciate what I’ve done for them.”

  Vince’s gaze peeled away skin, bone, pulse. But Val did not look away. “I’ll do what I say.” Vince must have found what he was looking for. He reached for the phone. “Don’t you let me down, man. That’s all I got to say to you. You better not let me down.”

  THE COMPLEX OF NARROW TOWNHOUSES OVERLOOKED THE Intracoastal Waterway and one of Miami’s millionaire islands. Terrance rang the doorbell and stared over the concrete balustrade at wealth on display. A twenty-five-foot Donzi powered past, the motor’s rumble thudding in his chest. Across the waterway he could see gardeners working on an island palace’s lawn. The island contained perhaps three dozen homes and two high-rise condos. The cheapest apartment went for two and a half mil. Terrance smiled into the sunlight and turned as he heard footsteps dance across the tiles inside. Stefanie deserved just such a place. And he was just the sort of person to give it to her. But not Miami. This town held too much baggage for them now. Bermuda, perhaps. Yes, that was just the ticket.

  She opened the door, the shadow staining her face. As always. “Hello, Terrance.”

  “Good morning, my dear. How nice to see you.” He kissed the proffered cheek. “Thank you so much for allowing me to stop by.”

  “Come in. You look exhausted.”

  “Yes, well, as I said, things are threatening to unravel at work.”

  A queen. That was how she had looked the first time Terrance had seen her. And a queen she remained. Even dressed as she was in linen shorts, sneakers, and a white shirt knotted about her tanned midriff. Even bearing the shadow of another man. “Would you care for coffee?”

  “That would be splendid, thank you.” He climbed the stairs behind her and entered the living room. Terrance pretended to take great interest in a sailboat beating upwind. But his gaze remained upon the island mansions. A year should be enough time for public attention to swing away from Insignia and focus upon whatever commercial disaster came up next. Then he would quietly slip in his resignation and depart. A waterfront palace in Bermuda and an elegant city estate on Eaton Square.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  He turned away from the future he was determined to give her. “Happy to see you. As always.”

  Her gaze flitted away, resting nowhere for very long. “Melissa is still asleep, I’m afraid.”

  “Ah, well, never mind.” He accepted the bone china cup and sipped. Freshly brewed, a dash of milk, half a sugar. Perfect. “Excellent coffee, my dear.”

  Her eye caught sight of the Town Car parked across the street. A uniformed chauffeur leaned against the gleaming hood, staring out over the water. “Is that yours?”

  “Yes. As I said on the phone, this is just a swift in-and-out.”

  “You didn’t drive down?”

  “No time for that, I’m afraid. I came by plane. It’s rather an around-the-elbow sort of journey. I’m actually on my way to New York.”

  “You flew from Orlando to Miami to connect to New York?”

  “I’ve rented a jet. Rather, the company did. Swifter, don’t you know?”

  “I suppose I could wake Melissa—”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ll be quite happy to step in and have a glance.”

  He followed her down the hallway toward the bedrooms. “You look lovely, Stef.”

  She gave no indication she had heard him. Which was why he said it when he had, in motion, her back to him. He knew she was listening, taking in every word. He saw her steps falter slightly, then speed up. He was nothing if not observant.

  And patient.

  He had wanted her from the first moment he had set eyes upon her. A reception at the new art gallery. A gathering of Orlando’s elite. Someone had pointed her out to him. Her father was an orthopedic surgeon who taught at the University of Miami and held a residency at the new Celebration hospital south of Orlando. Stefanie was an art historian and professional evaluator. She also consulted on rare porcelains to a dozen or so museums around the country.

  But Val Haines had met her four months earlier. The night before she and Terrance had met, Val had proposed. And Stefanie had accepted.

  By then, Terrance and Val were already corporate enemies. Val had beaten Terrance out of a major promotion, the first time anyone had ever managed such a victory at his expense. By the night he met Stefanie, Terrance had been smiling around bitter vows of vengeance for over a year.

  Terrance had tried to break them up. Stefanie had been enormously attracted to Terrance as well. They had met several times at art events and charity functions, the sorts of affairs Val loathed. Terrance had tracked her movements and inserted himself where he knew Val would not show up. They had even met once for lunch, his mother in attendance for good measure, there to discuss an item that had been in Terrance’s family for three generations. A Meissen vase. His mother had approved of this sloe-eyed beauty with the hair that was both brown and gold. Which was in itself a revelation. His mother approved of almost nothing and no one.

  But Terrance had not managed to interrupt her marriage to Val Haines. So he waited. He was always there, never pressing. Just close enough to snag her attention from time to time, always there with a laugh, a friendly observation, a warm hello. Waiting.

  When the fractures in her relationship with Val had started, Terrance was the first to know, because she had told him. How Val was so desperate to start a family. How he adored his parents and his growing-up years, and yearned for such a relationship with a child of his own. But Stefanie felt none of this. She felt like she had been put on a highly public and extremely traumatic treadmill, racing from doctor to doctor in a constant desperate search for what was wrong.

  By then, of course, Terrance’s corporate battles with Val Haines were public knowledge, at least among those who followed such goings-on. Which had actually worked in his favor. For as the fissures grew worse between Stefanie and Val, who better should she approach for comfort than her old friend, the man Val hated most in the world? It really was too sweet.

  Then came their affair, followed by the very messy divorce. All according to plan. The fact that she had become pregnant was the perfect crowning element.

  Only at this point, something went very badly awry.

  Rather than move in with him, Stefanie had retreated to Miami and a rental property owned by her father. Sh
e needed time to sort things out, was the only explanation she had given him. They had had their only argument at this point. But thankfully Terrance had retreated before tearing everything apart. He had played the hurt but loyal friend. Who wanted to be more than friends, of course. Particularly because of Melissa. Or so he claimed.

  Stefanie arrived at the end of the hall and opened the door leading to her daughter’s bedroom. Together they padded across the carpeted expanse and stood staring down at the crib. Melissa had emerged from her babyhood and was growing into quite an adorable little girl. Particularly when she was asleep. Terrance had no way with children. He found them odd little things, really. Particularly when they reverted to squalling bundles who could not properly communicate their needs. This was the time when it was good to have a nanny on constant call. Someone to take care of the nasty bits and return the child when it was freshly scented and smiling. But there were moments like now, when the little thing was bundled up in her flannel nightie, the hair soft as frost across her unblemished brow, and a pink tiger tucked snugly beneath her chin, when Terrance could imagine nothing finer than taking on the role of proud father.

  He slipped his hand into Stefanie’s, and counted it a minor triumph when she did not pull away. He had made no insistence upon seeing her. Instead, he had merely requested visitation rights to the child. Stefanie was far too much the lady ever to refuse him that.

  As usual in such moments, Terrance inspected the little face for any sign of Val. The light was too meager, however, and his experience in such things utterly nil.

  One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That was how much it had cost him to bribe the technician. It was not merely the matter of changing a name on a document. The young woman had needed to depart these reaches forever. Terrance stared down at the daughter legally declared his own, holding the hand of the woman who would soon bear the same title, and counted it the best investment he had ever made.

  He sighed with contentment and turned away.

  To his satisfaction, Stefanie kept hold of his hand back down the hall and into the living room. He pointed to an earthen vase occupying a place of prominence on a fairy-legged side table. “That’s new.”

  “Ming. I discovered it at an estate sale. Quite a find, actually. I’ve already been offered twice what I paid by a local curator.”

  Of course his mother had approved of Stefanie. They were so much alike. With one crucial difference, of course. Terrance’s mother was unapproachable on any terms but her own. Stefanie, however, would soon be his to possess.

  She seated herself on the curve of the sectional sofa, so that she could both be beside him and look at him. She never let go of his hand. “You didn’t come just to see Melissa.”

  “No, Stef. Of course not.” The walls were decorated with the oils taken from Val’s home. There were seven of them. Four here, one in the third bedroom she had turned into a private space, two in her own bedroom. The oils were all late Renaissance and worth more than the townhouse. They had been left to her by her grandfather, also a surgeon and a Beacon Hill Brahman. Which is from where Stefanie received her bearing and her poise. Her looks and the soft Southern lilt to her vowels came from her mother, an Atlanta socialite. Terrance knew all these things because he had made it his business to know. He knew a great deal about this woman and her life. Information was a vital part of tracking any quarry.

  “No, Stef,” he repeated. “I came to see you as well.”

  “I know that.”

  “I look forward so much to these visits.”

  “I know you do.” She stared at him. “You are the most patient man I have ever known.”

  “I have great reason to be.”

  “I wish . . .”

  He let it sit there between them. The air was charged with all the silent desires. “What do you wish?”

  “Nothing.”

  “If you don’t tell me, Stef, I can’t give it to you.”

  She smiled at that. “You would, wouldn’t you? Give me what I ask?”

  “Anything and everything,” he replied.

  “Why do you put up with me and my mess?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  “It’s not just Melissa.”

  “It never was.”

  “No. I know that also. I keep thinking if I just sit here long enough and take care of my daughter and get on with my work, I’ll heal. Life is such a dreadful mess.” She paused, then added more quietly still, “And lonely.”

  “Only because you insist upon it being so.”

  “I’m not seeing anyone. I tried. But it didn’t work. So I stopped.”

  He knew that too. She had gone out twice, once with the curator of a local museum and once with a University of Miami professor. Terrance continued to receive regular reports.

  “I keep hoping one day I’ll just wake up and things will be back to normal and I can start making a new life.” She looked at him. Not saying the words out loud. But the message was clear in her eyes. A new life with you.

  Terrance wanted to force her to speak the words. The desire was so fierce it must have blazed in his eyes, because Stefanie released his hand and rose from the sofa. She walked to the porch’s sliding glass doors and stood there, her back to him and the room, hugging herself. “He was here.”

  The shock was a fist straight to his heart. “Val?”

  “Last week. I came out of my front door and there he was. Standing across the road by the water. He looked awful.”

  Terrance did not recognize his own voice. “What did he want?”

  Stefanie remained turned from him, hugging herself, silent.

  Terrance clenched his entire body in the effort to keep himself from exploding. “You didn’t. Stefanie, please tell me you—”

  “He begged to hold her. Just for a moment. It caught me completely off guard.”

  He could not speak. To utter a single word would have been to unleash the beast. He envisioned a rage that left the entire room in shambles.

  “Val wanted children so bad. You should have seen his face. He slipped Melissa from my arms before I could think of anything to say. The look he gave me, it was like he was being tortured.” She stared out over the water, her back trembling as though sensing the emotion Terrance refused to let loose. “I took her back. He didn’t object. He just walked away. I’ve never seen anybody look so totally destroyed.”

  The antique mantel clock struck the half hour. Terrance took a dozen slow breaths, forcing himself back to calm control. The so-called investigators he was paying a small fortune would reap the whirlwind. “Stef, please come over and sit down.”

  She relinquished her position very slowly. “What is it?”

  “I have some rather dreadful news. And nothing’s confirmed. I’ve spent two sleepless nights wondering whether it would be best to be the one—”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Sit down. Please.” He snagged both her hands. “I fear Val is dead.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing is confirmed. But it has been so long now, and the police . . .” He paused, released a hand, took a slug of cold coffee. “I can only tell you what I know. It appears that Val has been stealing from the company.”

  “That’s impossible!”

  “I know, it goes against the grain. But the evidence is rather compelling. A large amount of money has gone missing. The SEC has been called in. There is going to be a huge scandal.”

  Her mouth worked. “Val?”

  “He, another Insignia employee, and a senior New York banker were apparently involved in perpetuating a massive fraud. The authorities think the bank might have bilked several major customers. Insignia among them. The bank was destroyed by a bomb. Val has not been heard from since.”

  There were tears, of course. Terrance held her and repeated the details, fleshing out the story. Being the bearer of bad tidings, the martyr. As he stroked her hair, he observed. He knew she retained some connection to V
al, a few stubborn tendrils of affection. How exquisite it was to personally demolish them. Finally making room for her new future. Her destiny.

  She gathered herself and asked the question he had known would come. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “News about Val being lost in the bomb blast broke this morning in the local Orlando papers. Tomorrow word is bound to get out about the scandal. At that point it will be national news. This may not be as big as Enron, but it is by far the largest scandal to hit a Florida company.”

  “That’s why you came?”

  “In part. I didn’t want this to catch you totally unaware. I had to do it in person. And it’s like I said on the phone. I won’t be available for a week or so. Perhaps longer.”

  “That’s why you’re going to New York?”

  “Damage control.” He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of which, my dear, I really must fly.”

  She rose with him. “I can’t believe this. Val.”

  “Of all people. I agree.”

  “He hated you.”

  “I am well aware of that.”

  “You must be pleased.” Her words crumbled wetly.

  Terrance dropped his voice an octave. “I do not deserve that.”

  “I suppose not.” But she was unconvinced.

  “In all the time we have been together, I have never spoken a word against Val Haines. Not once.” He made as to turn for the door.

  “I shall not start now.”

  “No, wait. That’s not—”

  “I know you’re deeply upset. You have every right to be. I knew also I took the risk of being painted as a culprit by bringing you this news. But I had to prepare you, Stefanie. Even if it meant wounding myself. I had no choice.”

  “Don’t go like this. I didn’t . . .”

  “You see, I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. That is why I came. And why I must now go.” He bent over and kissed her tear-stained cheek. “Adieu, my dear.”