The man turned to walk away, but Grace halted him.
‘So, this really is your bar?’
The man faced her again, his lips hiding a smile, while his forehead creased just a touch.
‘I thought that that was just…’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Bollocks?’ the man said, the smile finally breaking through.
Grace smiled back. ‘Yeah… you know… just to get him to go away.’
‘Trust me… I do talk a lot of bollocks, but not this time. This really is one of my bars.’ He extended his hand. ‘I’m Phillip… Phillip Evans.’
‘Grace Mitchell,’ she replied, shaking Phillip’s hand.
That night, Grace didn’t go back to a hotel room with a mark. She didn’t go back to Phillip’s place either, but she did spend most of her evening chatting to him. He was funny and a great conversationalist, but that wasn’t all. Underneath all the jokes and the undeniable charm, there seemed to be a deeper substance to him. He was articulate, intelligent and kind… but best of all, he was rich… richer than any mark that Grace or Julia had ever targeted.
Seventy-Six
Fourteen Years Ago
London
Grace’s chance meeting with Phillip that night got her thinking. The ‘hotel room’ con was a good con, bringing her and Julia a steady income, but they both knew that running the same con for two years straight, especially such a risky con, was pushing their luck. They’d never been caught, but they’d run into trouble plenty of times during those two years. Even before Grace had met Phillip, she and Julia had already begun discussing a few new ideas, but they were all small, street-type cons – the kind that would keep them going from one day to the next, nothing more – and Grace was growing really tired of that grinding.
‘Please tell me that you’re fucking kidding,’ Julia said, once Grace told her about her new idea for a scam.
‘I’m dead serious, Jules.’
‘No, you can’t be,’ Julia said back, her eyes wide at Grace. ‘Unless you’ve lost your mind because what you’re talking about here is real marriage, with a wedding dress, guests, a priest, a church, a ring… the fucking lot… including alegaldocument saying that you’re married.’
‘Followed by a divorce with a settlement for millions,’ Grace added, her voice calm.
‘Fuck! And how long will that take?’
‘Two years,’ Grace replied. ‘Maybe less.’
‘Two fucking years?’ Julia’s jaw dropped. ‘For a single con? Are you fucking high?’
‘The “hotel room” con has been our most profitable con to date, isn’t that right?’ Grace said.
‘Yeah, but—’
‘We’ve been running it for two years, Jules,’ Grace cut her short. ‘And how much have we made in that time? The two of us together?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I do. Just under one hundred grand. And the two of us combined have run the con seventy-four times in two years.’
‘OK.’ Julia was sure that Grace was right. She had everything written down and catalogued in a file.
‘That’s seventy-four times that we’ve put ourselves at risk. Seventy-four times that we could’ve gotten caught. Think about it.’ She gave Julia a moment. ‘This isonecon, Jules.’ She lifted her right index finger at Julia. ‘One. And at the end of two years, we’ll both be in the millions…millions.’
That word alone made Julia pause. ‘I need a drink.’ She got up and poured herself a large glass of white wine. ‘Do you want one?’
‘I’m OK for now, ta.’
Julia sat back down before having a healthy sip of her wine. ‘So, who is this bloke? Where did you meet him?’
