Page 20 of The Hampton Beach Café 6
Alex nodded and gestured to the open booth across from him. Frances slid in next to him. It might be awkward to be this close, but it was easier than looking at him all night.
“After you,” Hayley offered, smiling.
Lauren smiled back a little awkwardly, but took her seat all the same. Their plan to corner her had worked. She couldn’t get out of answering their questions now.
“We wanted to ask you about Malcolm,” Frances said, her voice unnaturally bright to compliment the forced smile she was struggling to maintain.
Lauren's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly regained her composure. “I'm sorry, I don't know who that is,” she replied smoothly.
Frances exchanged a look with Hayley, who spoke up next. “You know exactly who he is. He's the man who tried to bribe me into spying on Frances, and we think he may have done the same with you.”
Lauren balked and tried to hide behind the drinks menu.
“Malcolm? No, no, I definitely don't know who that is,” Lauren replied, her voice muffled by a large, blue dyed leather cocktail menu.
Frances exchanged a glance with Hayley and Alex.
“Are you sure?” she pressed. “Because we—"
“Ready to order?”
The waiter had terrible timing.
They ordered, and Frances took note of Lauren’s trembling hands.
“Well, we don't believe you,” Hayley said.
“In fact, we have pretty solid reason to believe that he may have sent you to spy on me,” Frances said.
Lauren's eyes widened in shock. “What? That's ridiculous! I don't even know who Malcolm is!”
Alex leaned forward. “Really? Never met a Malcolm in your life?”
“No!” Lauren insisted.
“That's interesting. You meet so many people and yet never once come across the seventeenth most common male name in America?”
Lauren shook her head, almost violently. “I don't know who Malcolm is,” she said, avoiding eye contact.
Frances glanced at Alex. She could see Lauren starting to panic. She wanted answers, not to bully this woman into hyperventilating.
The waiter chose that moment to arrive with their drinks.Better timing this round,Frances thought. As she took her gin and tonic, she watched Lauren almost snatch her glass of red wine out of the poor young man's hand and take a huge gulp of it. She glanced down at the menu—that was not a cheap house red Lauren was chugging.
It was almost like she caught herself, forcing herself to put the glass down on the table.
“Lauren…” Frances said, “…you genuinely seem frightened. You can't expect us to believe you have no idea what we're talking about.”
Lauren hesitated for a moment, but then she sighed heavily and looked down at her lap.
“Okay, fine! He did approach me. But I swear I didn't want to do it. He…he bought some art from me…quite a lot, actually. In conversation, I mentioned meeting someone with the same last name. I thought it was an innocent little conversation starter but he pushed and pushed. I didn't understand why, but I told him about coming here and finding you showing Vincent's stuff. He asked me to keep him up to date with the deal. I didn’t like that and told him no, but he …well, he mentioned that he's friends with the majority of the people in my little black book. He made it extremely clear that if I didn't help him, he'd slip that something I'd sold him was a fake. I'd never make another sale. I truly felt like I didn't have a choice! And it wasn't anything…seedy, just updates on his ex-wife. He said he missed you, but you didn’t want to see him.…he didn't like that you were dating Clarkson, so he had me sneak a few pictures to the tabloids. He thought you'd drop him the moment your face was in the paper. I don't think he realized how rabid Clarkson’s fans are.”
The formidable woman was in tears, Frances realized, and gasping for breath as she rattled off her story.
“He blackmailed you?” Hayley asked, eyes wide and angry.
“I'm so sorry, Frances. I didn't realize what a huge effect it was having on your life until recently,” she said through tears. “Then when I told him I had to stop, he just dropped it. Like it was never a big deal…he made me feel like I was crazy.”
Frances winced—that was Malcolm all over.
