Honeymoon by James Patterson, Howard Roughan Page B

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 com-
     
ing 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 con-
     
vertible 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."
     
"What line of work are you in -- if you don't mind my
     
asking?"
     
"I'm an interior decorator."
     
"No kidding. It must be fun. I mean, there aren't many
     
jobs where you get to spend other people's money, are there?"
     
"No, I guess there aren't." She looked at her watch.
     
"Whoops, somebody's running late for the airport."
     
"My fault. By all means, get going."
     
"Well, again Mr. Reyn--" She caught herself. "
Craig.
     
Thanks for stopping by. It was very sweet."
     
"No problem, Nora. I'll let you know when there's some-
     
thing to report on the investigation."
     
"I'd appreciate it."
     
They shook hands and Craig was about to walk away.
     
"Oh, you know what?" he said. "It dawns on me, with you
     
traveling, I should probably get a cell phone number."
     
Nora hesitated for a split second. While giving out the
     
number was one of the last things she wanted to do, she
     
also didn't want to appear suspicious to the insurance man.
     
"Sure thing," she said. "Have you got a pen?"
     
     
----
Chapter 33
     
I RANG