Suddenly, Zeke comes charging into the kitchen, and his presence is so startling that Lizbet thinks Xavier must be on the phone. He called back, he’s willing to talk!
Zeke says, “Lizbet, we need you in the lobby. Stuff is going down.”
Stuff is going down: When Lizbet gets back to the lobby, she sees Richie with three gentlemen in suits, one of whom is handcuffing him!
“Wait!” Lizbet cries out. Her head feels like it’s going to topple off her body. “What’s going on?”
“Mr. Decameron is under arrest for wire fraud,” one of the gentlemen who’s not cuffing Richie says. He holds up a badge. “Agent Ianucci, FBI.”
Lizbet blinks. Mr. Ianucci, formerly of room 307.
“Richie?” she says.
Richie hangs his head. “I’m sorry, Lizbet.”
26. The Cobblestone Telegraph
On Sunday evening, Fast Eddie heads into his real estate office on Main Street to type up the listing sheet for the Hotel Nantucket. He received a call from Xavier Darling earlier that afternoon; Xavier wants to sell, pronto. He’s already gotten an offer from a colleague in London who wants to convert the hotel into an office building, but this colleague is holding firm at sixteen million.
“List it at twenty-five,” Xavier told Eddie. “But between us, I’ll take twenty.”
“You put thirty into it,” Eddie said. “Thirty-two if you count what you paid for it.”
“I need to take it as a loss this year,” Xavier said. “Though not too much of a loss.”
Eddie puts the listing on his website at seven p.m. Xavier informed Lizbet and the rest of the hotel staff of his intent to sell at five p.m.
Poor Lizbet, Eddie thinks. She poured her heart and soul into that place and turned it into a genuine phoenix-risen-from-the-ashes success story. She has such a magic touch that Eddie decides he’ll offer her a job as a sales associate with Bayberry Properties and sponsor her classes.
Eddie then pops into Ventuno for a celebratory cocktail. He tells the bartender, Johnny B., that he’s re-listing the Hotel Nantucket for twenty-five million. Those of us who overhear this tidbit note the barely suppressed glee in Eddie’s voice. He’s looking at quite a commission, especially if he comes up with the buyer.
One of the people who are sitting at the Ventuno bar within earshot of Eddie is Charlene, the nurse from Our Island Home. Charlene is drowning her sorrows because her favorite resident, Mint Benedict, has contracted pneumonia and the doctors say he’s not likely to make it through the week.
The next morning when Charlene goes to visit Mint at the Nantucket Cottage Hospital, Mint asks her to collect everything from his safety deposit box at Nantucket Bank.
“There’s some of my mother’s jewelry that I want you to have,” Mint says, his voice broken and gravelly. “And there are papers I’d like you to go through—letters and my father’s journal.”
Charlene pats Mint’s hand, which is burning up, despite the intravenous antibiotics. “I’ll bring it all here and we can go through it together, how about that?” She considers telling Mint what she overheard about the Hotel Nantucket going on the market again, but she isn’t sure if this will make him feel better （he was right, the place does seem to be cursed） or if it will send him into a downward spiral. She decides to keep the news to herself.
Jordan Randolph at the Nantucket Standard notices the new real estate listing right away. He calls Lizbet to find out what’s going on, but Lizbet isn’t available for comment.
Jordan then hears about an FBI sting at the hotel and he immediately contacts the Nantucket Police Department to see what Chief Ed Kapenash knows about it.
“Wire fraud,” Ed says. Ed is a gruff fellow on a good day, but tonight he sounds particularly worn out. Jordan empathizes—it’s the end of a long, hot summer and everyone on this island is in need of a three-day nap. “Their night auditor was selling people’s credit card numbers, addresses, and driver’s license information. He was doing a brisk business in stolen identities.”
“Wow,” Jordan says.
“Apparently the Feds have been watching him for a while. He did some small-time embezzling at an insurance company in Connecticut—wiring his child-support payments out of their payroll account. The company didn’t press charges because he’d been there so long and the ex-wife had really stuck it to him in the divorce. Then he hooked up with one of those sneaker brokers and that guy got busted for tax evasion, and I guess Decameron knew about it and was accepting cash to keep quiet.”