“The numbers represent money?”
Mary nodded slowly. “I’m starting to think so. And I think I have a way to find out. Is it too late to call someone?”
They decided it wasn’t, and Mary dialed the cell number shown on the card she was holding. It rang twice and a man answered. “Gil? Hi, it’s Mary Holbrook, Holbrook Plumbing Supply in Phoenix.”
“Mary—well, it’s been a long time. Everything going okay?”
They exchanged a minute or so of small talk before Mary got down to the real question. “Say, Gil, I’ve been contacted regarding an unusual investment, which I’m seriously considering, and your name was given as a reference as another investor in the same opportunity. Well, this is really outside my expertise, so I thought I’d give a call, you know, just check it out.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a movie deal, the company is Intrepid Dog Pictures—or it might have been called Reliant Fox Productions. Producer’s name is Robert Williams. A friend just got back from a presentation Williams did, talking about what a great investment this would be, and we were told you’d invested something like 1.2 in it?”
A long pause. The sound of something whiskery scraping against the phone. “Well, yeah. Actually, that’s right. I’m just, uh, just surprised they shared names and numbers. Not real pleased about that, actually.”
“Oh. Well, really, I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. I’m afraid I did a little name-dropping here and there, just to see if anyone I knew was already invested. I’m sorry if it’s something that’s none of my business.” Like hell. I now know you got involved.
“Well, it’s not your fault, Mary. And it’s okay. We did business for a lot of years and I trust you.”
“If it’s not too forward of me … and don’t give numbers if you don’t want to … I completely understand. I’m just curious whether you’re happy with the return on the money you invested. I mean, I don’t have anything close to that, myself.”
Another pause. “Hmm, well, at this moment I can’t really say either way. I haven’t received my royalty check yet, but it really isn’t due until early next year. That’s the way my contract was structured.”
Mary thanked him and hung up. She related the parts Gracie hadn’t been able to hear.
“Same story my mom was told. Promises of payments always seemed to be out in the future somewhere.” She brought out her phone and opened the calculator function. “Read me the numbers from the cards.”
Mary read out numbers and Gracie added them up.
“More than twenty million dollars. And we haven’t yet found anyone who has received a nickel back on the investment. This looks like evidence we can turn over to the law. We need to share it with the group and decide our next moves.”
Chapter 16
Amber pulled onto the elegantly curved driveway, swinging her Prius around in an arc so the passenger door aligned perfectly with Pen’s front door. She’d sent Pen a text an hour ago: Exciting news! They’d concocted a plan to track down the one person who might be able to shed light on the exact investment returns from Rob Williams’s company.
Pen appeared at the door, dressed in flattering autumn tan slacks and a matching tunic with a lively patterned scarf draped over her shoulders. Amber looked at her own leggings and t-shirt, hoping—belatedly—that she wasn’t out of her depth. Pen joined her in the car and complimented Amber on the way she’d pulled her curly hair into a topknot.
“Sorry I’m so casual, Pen. I was at exercise class when I got the message with the address.”
“Fill me in.”
“So, anyway—you know I’ve been on the trail of Maisie Brown since we got back from Newport.”
“Yes. After she sat there at our table and fairly glowed with tales of the fantastic returns she’d received on her investment …”
“And I thought your idea of finding her and asking her to corroborate that with some actual proof was really smart. I remembered at some point during the dinner she said she also lived in Arizona, and while that isn’t much info it did give me a good start. Plus, the fact that hers is a somewhat unusual name.”
“And you found her?”
“Yeah, I think I mentioned in a message yesterday that I’d located a Maisie Brown on Facebook. People can choose whether to reveal where they live, their birthdate, and such. This one shows herself living in Arizona, but not what city. This week, she posted a photo of The Breakers and said she’d just returned from Newport. She’s our gal, for sure.”
“But her address? There are times when I miss the old days of the telephone directory.”
Amber had started the car. “Well, there are better ways now. I started prowling further to find out where she lives, and I came up with an address in Flagstaff. So, if you’re up for a drive …”
“I adore Flagstaff—absolutely, let’s go!”
Within ten minutes, they were on the 101 Loop, heading toward I-17 north.
“How do we know Maisie will be there when we arrive?” Pen asked, after the question had nagged her for a few minutes.
“Well, I set that up quite nicely, I think.” Amber flashed her pretty smile toward her companion. “I called, pretending to have a florist’s delivery, and asked if she would be home after noon.”
“That’s brilliant. I’m so pleased to be associated with great minds like yours.”
“Um, well, we’ll see. At least we know where we’re going and are pretty certain she’ll greet us with a smile.” Amber concentrated on merging with the heavier traffic on the interstate, then settled back once they cleared the busier exits for Carefree, Cave Creek, and Anthem.
“So, I assume we’ll stop off somewhere and pick up a decent little bouquet and talk our way into her house. Do we have a plan beyond that?” Pen asked.
“I’ll admit I haven’t got quite that far. Could we pretend this is one of your novels and you’ll tell me how your characters would decide what to do next?”
“Oh dear. Well, let’s see.” Pen lifted her sunglasses and rubbed an itchy spot on her nose. Glasses back in place, she said, “What would be wrong with something close to the truth? She’ll remember us from the dinner, so there’s not much way to claim we’re someone else. I could say I was so inspired by her success in the movie investment that I’m considering putting in even more money. But I’m also cautious, so would she mind sharing some data—at least give me an idea of the percentage she earned.”
“It would be great if we could get her to show us statements she received with the earnings.”
“Yes. I like that idea,” Pen said.
They lapsed into silence, each formulating her thoughts on what to say once they cornered their witness. The road began to climb, taking them out of saguaro country and into areas of high-desert vegetation, and finally to mountainous terrain and tall ponderosa pines. Amber exited and spotted a florist.
“We still want to use the flower delivery approach?” she asked as she cruised toward the parking area.
“Why not? Every woman loves to get flowers, and maybe a gift will make her more receptive to our questions.” Pen hopped out and went inside, spotting several nice autumn arrangements in the display case. She sprang for a decent-sized one, hoping to impress, and carried it back to the car.
“I think we’re set. How’s our timing?”
“Perfect,” Amber said, pulling onto the main street again. “It’s 12:15.”
They rolled up in front of a complex of townhomes that sat on a gently sloping hill, fairly new, by the look of the immature landscaping. At a guess, they might have been built a year or two earlier. The chalet-style buildings were clad in wood siding in shades of tan and brown with dark brown trim. Very pseudo-Swiss. The complex backed up to ponderosa forest, giving residents the automatic feeling of being in the midst of nature, while the front yards contained pine and aspen saplings and a variety of native plants that would do well through the snowy winters and moderately warm summers.
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sp; Maisie Brown’s unit was in the third building, and the driveway in front of her address held a white compact Chevy. The neighborhood and the vehicle didn’t exactly scream wealth, but oftentimes it was the quiet ones who hid it best. They parked out front and walked up a set of flagstone steps that curved up the slight hill.
The Maisie Brown who answered the door bore little resemblance to the one from the party. Outside the glittering setting, and minus the designer dress, she looked like any other American housewife. Her face registered surprise when she opened the door; clearly, she didn’t immediately remember the women.
“Oh! I thought the delivery might be from Carter’s Flowers. You aren’t …”
“Hello, Maisie. No, we aren’t actually from a shop. We met you recently at the dinner in Newport and wanted to bring this little gift, hoping for the chance to visit a bit more.” Pen extended the bouquet, just slightly out of Maisie’s reach.
What was the woman to do? She couldn’t very well grab the flowers and refuse to speak with her guests. She seemed a little confused, but accepted the gift and stepped back to let them in.
Amber, who had sat closest to Maisie, spoke first to break the ice. “I guess I look like a slob compared to what you saw me wearing before. The difference between a fancy dress-up occasion and everyday clothes, huh.” She laughed and Maisie did a halfhearted chuckle.
“The flowers are beautiful,” she said. “Is there an occasion?”
She walked them through a wide foyer to a spacious living room decorated in white and beige, with accents of darker brown and orange. Pen’s choice of flower arrangement couldn’t have been a better fit. Maisie set the vase on the coffee table. Pen and Amber exchanged a glance. Now they were here, it was a little harder to know exactly how to begin.
Pen finally took the leap. “Actually, I did want to visit a bit more on the same subject we talked about the other night—Intrepid Dog Pictures and the investment opportunity.”
“I’ve, um, gone the max I can do,” Maisie said. “So, I hope you didn’t waste a trip.”
She thinks we’re with Rob Williams. Amber’s eyes spoke silently to Pen.
“Oh, no,” Pen said. “I’m merely another investor, like yourself. I put some money into the new film when we were in Newport, and I’m seriously considering a bit more. A larger investment, I mean. So, I wonder if I could get more information from you?”
Maisie shifted from one foot to the other. She hadn’t yet invited them to sit.
“What Pen is asking,” Amber said, “is not so much any specifics about the amounts you put in or anything. That’s strictly your business. As her, um, accountant, I’ve suggested she compare the ROI—the return on investment—between this opportunity and a few others she has been considering.”
Pen’s eyes widened a touch, but she played along.
“Yes, Ms. Zeckis is very astute with numbers, so I trust her opinions. She does such a wonderful job of looking out for me. Anyway, we’re wondering—checking, really—to see if these movie production investments would pay as well as, say, stock in Apple or Microsoft. Can you share some basic information with us?”
“At the gala dinner, you indicated you’d been very happy with the results,” Amber said. “We’re just wondering the extent of the returns—are we talking double-digit gains? Triple digit?”
Maisie’s hands were fidgeting now. “Maybe we’d best all sit down.”
She indicated the sofa for Pen and Amber, taking an armchair near the doorway for herself. The better to escape if punches began to fly?
“I don’t know what to tell you ladies. I’m not very good with financial statements. My Bernie used to handle everything, but he’s gone two years now. Heart failure. I’ve had to do everything on my own. I downsized from our huge old house to this townhouse, and I love it here, really. But when it comes to brokerage statements, bank accounts, CDs, and investments, I just look at the statements and file them away.”
“Would you be willing to show me your statements from Intrepid Dog Pictures?” Pen asked as gently as possible.
“There aren’t any. I’ve never received a thing.”
“No statements?”
“Nothing.” Her face crumpled. “Not a red cent.”
“But you said—”
“I know. I feel so bad about that. I got a call from Mr. Williams’s office about a month ago, apologizing that royalty payments had been delayed. To make up for it, the lady said they would add fifty-percent to my current royalty balance if I would attend the party and talk to new investors. I didn’t even have to make up anything, just tell them how much was coming to me. She named a figure that floored me. Said that much was in my royalty account, and that it was growing every day.”
“Did she send you any proof of this?”
“Well, not really, but she gave the figure down to the penny. She was reading it off a printed statement, I’m sure.” Maisie was now wringing her hands. “They bought my plane ticket and even had that elegant dress and all the jewelry ready to loan me when I got there. A free trip, a fancy dinner, and all I had to do was repeat what she’d told me about my own investment. Was I dumb to do it?”
“You couldn’t have known,” Pen said quietly. “Do you think there were others in the audience who were asked to do the same thing?”
“I know there were. We were assigned a dressing room there in the mansion where we chose our fancy clothing from a selection. They set it up where there weren’t more than one or two women in there at a time. We couldn’t really converse because we were each sent by those escorts to separate tables. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but it’s been bothering me ever since.” Her eyes welled up. “I feel so stupid.”
Amber left the sofa and crossed to Maisie’s side. “You’re not stupid. A lot of people were fooled. We have reason to suspect Rob Williams has been doing this awhile and that he’s not using the money to make movies. We think he’s stealing it.”
“What!—you mean my money’s gone forever?” Her jaw had gone slack.
“We don’t know. It’s why we’re trying to find written evidence of the promises they’ve made or statements to prove they’ve actually paid out some dividends. If we can get such evidence, we’ll compile it and present it to the police in California. With luck, maybe they’ll prosecute and get the money back. It’s happened with other investment swindles, maybe it will work for us, too.”
“Could you? Get my money back? I’m a widow on a pension. I gave him nearly all my spare cash. I’d be so grateful.”
“Honestly, we don’t know how it will turn out,” Pen said, standing up. “We can only work on it, but we will certainly let you know if the money can be recovered.”
Tears had tracked through the powder on Maisie’s face, and Amber felt her heart go out to the woman. They hugged her and left, exchanging phone numbers so they could keep her posted on their progress.
Out in the Prius, Amber turned to Pen. “I get the feeling this scam is huge. How many other seniors are out there in exactly Maisie’s position?”
“I have no idea, but it’s frightening.”
Chapter 17
“I wish I’d taken one of the computers,” Gracie said. “These business cards feel like only the tip of the iceberg.”
“I’m not sure we should take a chance on breaking in again,” Mary told her. “When it comes to getting caught, I have a feeling the third time’s the charm.”
The two were having breakfast the morning after a restless night. Discovering a number of Rob Williams’s likely victims had nixed the possibility of quieting either of their minds enough to sleep.
“I suppose while I’m here in California, it’s the time to see my mom and get this discussion out in the open. I sense something like panic in her phone calls.”
“When do you want to go?”
“Never. Later this morning? She lives in Pasadena—we’ll need to let the morning rush traffic die down.” Gracie couldn’t conceal the trepidation on h
er face. “After more coffee—lots more coffee.”
* * *
The modern ranch style home draped itself along a hillside, with native plantings and mature palm trees flanking a wide driveway. Janice Weaver greeted them at the oversized front door, wearing a flamboyant caftan in brilliant rainbow colors, a glass with some kind of clear amber liquid in one hand. Mary immediately saw where Gracie had gotten her dark hair, high cheekbones, and perfectly tilted nose. But where Gracie’s smile was open, almost naïve at times, Janice’s mouth formed an impatient pout, reddened by lipstick seeping into surrounding lip lines.
“Well, come in,” she said. “I was wondering if you’d get out here to see me.”
“Hi, Mom.” Gracie endured a perfunctory hug, then introduced Mary.
“Scott told me you’d come to California. But that was two days ago.”
“We’re actually here on a little business,” Mary said, as Janice led them through a spacious den and outside through an open sliding door. Below the patio, steps went down to a kidney-shaped swimming pool that glowed with turquoise sparkle in the late-morning light.
“Yes, Mom, we’re investigating that movie producer who took your money—our money.” Gracie flopped down in one of the cushioned chairs that surrounded a glass-topped table.
“And? Am I getting my royalties, like he promised?”
“Well … it doesn’t appear that way yet. We’re working on it, but it looks like the police may have to get involved.”
“Oh, geez. You can’t be serious. If this has to go to court, it could take forever.” Janice set her beverage on the table with a clatter, turning to pluck dead blossoms from an exuberant petunia in a nearby pot.
“Yes, Mom, it might.” Gracie sent an apologetic shrug toward Mary while Janice’s back was turned.
“Well, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Janice said. “If they come in here trying to kick me out of my own home …”
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