Chapter 6 - The Uninvited Guests
The private garden room at the Hawthorne Hotel bistro was quiet, warm, and decorated with white tablecloths and polished silver. In the far corner booth, hidden behind a decorative wall of potted bamboo, Daniel Price and Melissa Miller sat side by side, their faces illuminated by the glow of a shared iPad.
Daniel let out a low, breathless laugh, snapping the laptop shut. He reached across the table, grabbed Melissa’s hand, and raised his champagne flute.
""To freedom,"" Daniel murmured, his eyes gleaming with triumphant arrogance. ""Five hundred and twenty-two thousand dollars sitting in the master account. The pilot is confirmed for four o'clock out of Hanscom Airfield to connect with the Miami charter. By the time Rebecca finishes her afternoon pilates class and your husband figures out his bank login is locked, we’ll be at ten thousand feet.""
Melissa smiled, lifting her glass of Dom Pérignon. ""Mark won't even check the account until the mortgage payment bounces on Tuesday. He's so predictable it's almost sad. He actually wished me luck this morning.""
""To predictable fools,"" Daniel chuckled, clinking his glass against hers.
""I wouldn't drink that champagne just yet, Daniel,"" a calm, familiar voice cut through the quiet air of the restaurant.
Daniel’s smile froze. The glass hovered an inch from his lips.
Rebecca stepped through the bamboo partition first, wearing an elegant camel-wool trench coat, her arms crossed over her chest. Behind her, I walked into the light of the chandelier, holding a thick manila folder under my arm. And behind me stepped Detective Miller, flanked by two armed State Police officers in full tactical patrol uniforms.
Melissa dropped her champagne glass. It shattered against the mahogany tabletop, sending sparkling liquid and sharp shards of crystal splashing across her navy trousers and pooling around Daniel’s iPad.
""Mark?"" Melissa gasped, her voice choking into a terrified squeak. Her face drained of all color, turning the sickly white of unbaked dough. ""What... what is this? What are you doing here?""
""I thought you were at an executive conference in New York, Melissa,"" I said smoothly, taking a seat at the empty table directly across the aisle from their booth. I pulled out a chair and motioned for Rebecca to sit. ""And Daniel, aren't you supposed to be having a client lunch in Cambridge? Funny how your business meetings always seem to require a shared bottle of two-hundred-dollar champagne and two carry-on bags packed with passports.""
Daniel surged to his feet, knocking his chair back against the wood paneling. ""What the hell is the meaning of this? Rebecca, did you hire private investigators? You've lost your goddamn mind. You can't harass me at a business lunch! Call your goons off or I swear to God I'll—""
""Daniel Price,"" Detective Miller interrupted, stepping forward and unsnapping the leather retention strap on his badge holder. ""Keep your hands flat on the table where I can see them. Do not reach into your coat. Do not touch that tablet.""
""On what grounds?"" Daniel snarled, though his left eye began to twitch uncontrollably. ""This is a civil matter! If my wife has an issue with my personal life, she can file through family court!""
""It was a civil matter until twelve-oh-two this afternoon,"" Detective Miller said, pulling a crisp, blue-backed document from his inner pocket. ""Suffolk County Superior Court Warrant Number 4409. You and Melissa Miller are under arrest for grand larceny over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, criminal conspiracy, and felony bank fraud under Massachusetts General Laws Chapter 266.""
Melissa let out a jagged, hysterical sob, clutching the edge of the table. ""Mark! Mark, please! He made me do it! Daniel planned everything! He threatened to get me fired if I didn't help him set up the shell company! I love you, Mark, please tell them to stop!""
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I looked at the woman I had spent eleven years protecting, cherishing, and building a life with. For four months, she had looked into my eyes every single morning, kissed my cheek, and planned my financial destruction with a sociopathic smile.
""Save it for the magistrate, Melissa,"" I said quietly. ""You wanted coffee. Enjoy the cup.""
