Challenging Matt

by Julianna Morris

  “I thought her name was Jeannette.”

  “I have two sisters, Jeannette and Stephanie. They’re identical twins. Anyway, Richard fell for her instantly. So he dropped me and started asking her out, but at least I ended up with a yard that’s ready for kids.” Layne realized she was running off at the mouth again and drew a calming breath.

  They returned to the patio and sat at the table. “All right,” she said, her pen poised over the pad of paper. “Tell me about what happened at Hudson & Davidson. I’m all ears.”

  “Not quite,” Matt returned. His quick survey of her body made her sharply aware of the grubby condition of her gardening clothes, but she stuck up her chin in defiance. No doubt he was comparing her to Jeannie and she was coming up short.

  He’s just a fact to be researched, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time.

  “Like I said, I don’t know that much,” he continued. “You’re probably aware your uncle managed the accounting division of Hudson & Davidson, while Peter ran the investment side. You’re right that the investigation was about wire transfers. The thefts were mostly illegal transfers from client accounts to offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands, all on Thursday evenings when your uncle was known to work late.”

  Layne tried to keep her face expressionless.

  Since when had Uncle Will worked late? He’d always spent every minute possible with Aunt Dee. One of the reasons he hadn’t gone career in the navy was because there was a chance he might get stationed someplace where his wife couldn’t be with him.

  “Is there proof he was at the company the nights in question?”

  “No, other than the transfers being made using his keycard, password and access codes. The cyber-crime lab also determined the wire transfers were made from the computer in his office. With all the evidence, they felt it was an open-and-shut case.”

  “People can hack computers and steal access codes and stuff,” Layne murmured. “And other employees must have had keys to the office.”

  “Of course, but there was no evidence of hacking and your uncle never reported a missing keycard.”

  The case seemed straightforward, yet Uncle Will’s notes had said he could prove he wasn’t there when some of the thefts occurred. Layne hadn’t bothered telling Detective Rivera about the folder, knowing he would just say Uncle Will was trying to make himself look innocent. Perhaps, but there was something else to consider: William Hudson hadn’t been a stupid man, and leaving a conspicuous trail of clues to his door was unbelievably stupid. Didn’t anyone think it was odd that the case against him was so clean?

  “Last I heard, the police were still searching for the missing money,” Matt said.

  Layne absently doodled a series of question marks on her pad of paper. Why hadn’t the funds been found? Money these days was mostly electronic; there should be a trail to follow. And it wasn’t something she could hunt for herself since that required subpoenas and search warrants and mad computer skills.

  “You said the transfers were all on Thursday nights—do you have any specific dates?” she asked.

  “They may have been discussed, but I don’t recall any.”

  Fair enough. It hadn’t been a member of his family accused of embezzling, and it would be hard confirming dates from memory, anyhow.

  “What about the time frame? Were the wire transfers over a period of weeks or months?”

  “They occurred between the end of August last year, and the third week in November, not long before your uncle’s sui...uh, before he died.”

  Layne was glad Matt hadn’t called it suicide. After her discoveries in Uncle Will’s office, she was convinced that he’d been murdered. But it wasn’t just because of the printer question. William Hudson had hated taking medication, same as Aunt Dee; normally you’d have been lucky to find aspirin in their medicine cabinet. Layne could see someone being momentarily overcome by depression and popping pills, but you had to have the pills to pop in the first place. She would have to get the autopsy report to find out what he’d died from—an overdose could be either prescription meds or street drugs.

  She also still needed information from the police file since Matt didn’t have specific dates, but knowing the embezzling had occurred on Thursday evenings over a three-month period gave her a time frame to look at. Now she could focus on finding something that proved Uncle Will wasn’t at the office on one or more Thursday nights during that period.

  Matt leaned forward. “I’ll go through my personal papers and see if I jotted anything else down about the case. I can let you know anything I find the next time we meet.”

  “How about emailing the information to me? It would be easiest.” Layne scribbled her address on a blank sheet of paper and handed it to him. She added her phone number just in case, though she wasn’t really sure why.

  “I’d rather discuss it personally.”

  * * *

  MATT SAW THE reluctance in Layne’s eyes and was grimly amused. She really didn’t want him involved.

  “You know, Peter Davidson ought to have a list of the dates and times of all the thefts he could give me,” Layne said slowly.

  Matt winced. “I don’t think Pete is feeling too cooperative at the moment. I mentioned speaking with you and your aunt at the gala and he’s upset that everything is being stirred up again.”

  “I see.”

  “I wouldn’t read anything into it,” Matt added. “Pete feels betrayed and wants to put this in the past.”

  “How do you think Uncle Will felt when his closest friend refused to believe he was innocent?”

  Matt saw temper simmering a second time in Layne’s green eyes and was curious what more she’d say if she stopped guarding her tongue. But he didn’t get a chance to find out; her angry features became unreadable again. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “It’s okay—I prefer honesty.”

  “A lot of people say that’s what they want, then are outraged when they get it.” She checked her watch and stood up. “I need to leave soon. My aunt is expecting me and I have to shower before going.”

  He got to his feet, as well. “When can we talk again?”

  “Call when you have some information and we’ll set up a time.”

  “All right.”

  Layne determinedly escorted him around the side of the house. She gave new meaning to the old joke, “here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?”

  “Do you have voice mail on this number?” Matt asked as they got to his Mercedes-Benz. He held up the sheet of paper she’d given him, though it hadn’t been necessary; Connor had provided phone numbers for both Layne and her aunt, along with a whole lot of other information, including details of Dorothy Hudson’s financial problems since her husband’s death.

  “I have an answering machine. I sometimes forget to check it, but I’ll try to remember.” She looked at his car and he saw a flicker of admiration in her eyes. “Nice ride. But I wouldn’t have pegged you for the candy-apple-red type.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “Black, maybe. Or something in silver.”

  “My first race car was this color, so I’m partial.”

  “I also wouldn’t have guessed you were the sentimental type. Doesn’t a fun car like this make it harder for people to take you seriously as a philanthropist?”

  Matt’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see why it should. You only need a big sedan if you have kids, and I don’t plan to have any. Not every
one believes in the marriage-and-family route.”

  “Whatever,” she said quickly. “If you change your mind about emailing the information, let me know.”

  “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  Scowling, he sank into the low seat of the Mercedes-Benz. It wasn’t just her comments about his car; having a woman wanting to get rid of him was a new experience. Usually it was the other way around. Not that he had any illusions about being irresistible; his money was a big part of the appeal.

  Curiously, his father didn’t seem to care how many dollar signs were in his girlfriends’ eyes. Spence appeared to accept that his fortune was part of his appeal and enjoyed the wider availability of feminine companionship it provided. Not that all of his wives and lovers were after Hollister money—a few of them, like Matt’s own mother, had a good deal of wealth in their own right.

  * * *

  LAYNE SHOWERED AND hurried to Carrollton, but she was tempted to turn around and leave when she saw her mother’s Audi in Dee’s driveway. She parked reluctantly and let herself into the house.

  “Hi, Aunt Dee,” she called.

  “We’re in the living room, Lani.”

  Steffie was there, too, looking perfectly beautiful as usual. Of her two sisters, Layne got along best with Steffie. Stephanie wasn’t as outspoken as Jeannie and was less opinionated about how everyone should live.

  Barbara McGraw smiled. “Hello, dear. Dorothy and I were talking last night and she mentioned you were coming over, so we came, too. I wanted to bring this so you can start getting ready.” She held out an envelope.

  “Ready for what?”

  “Well, it occurred to us that we’ve been assuming you would have the same interest in medicine as your father and me.”

  Steffie gave Layne an apologetic smile. “Mom has a one-track mind.”

  “I do not,” Barbara denied instantly. “Anyhow, Layne, I got to thinking about how you loved to read those National Geographic magazines. And the light dawned that we’ve been pushing you in the wrong direction all these years.”

  “Oh?” Layne glanced inside the envelope and saw a plane ticket to Albuquerque. “You think I should go to New Mexico?”

  “I think you should consider archaeology. Your father made some inquiries and there’s a new excavation starting. They may have actually found another lost civilization. He got you officially assigned to the project through the University of New Mexico.”

  Layne stared in disbelief. “He what? I can’t—”

  “Lani, wouldn’t you like some coffee? There’s a fresh pot in the kitchen,” Dee interrupted.

  Layne dropped the envelope and stomped out of the living room, fuming. She loved her mother, but Barbara could be the most insensitive person on the planet.

  “I told Mom it was bad idea,” Steffie said, following her.

  “Bad doesn’t begin to describe it. Obviously she’s forgotten that I wanted to be an archaeologist when I was ten, but she told me I needed to choose a practical career like podiatry, cardiology or obstetrics.”

  Her sister sighed. “If you wanted to go into archaeology, why didn’t you ignore her and do it?”

  “Because I’m interested in everything, not just archaeology, and realized I didn’t have to dig in the dirt to satisfy my curiosity. Are Mom and Dad really that embarrassed about my job? Their pushing isn’t new, but the past few months they’ve been impossible.”

  “At the risk of sounding clichéd, it’s complicated.” Steffie nibbled on a piece of biscotto from the cookie jar. “This thing with Uncle Will has rattled them badly. They worry you’ll wake up someday and be dissatisfied with your life.”

  Layne’s temper cooled a few degrees, though she noticed Stephanie hadn’t denied how Barbara and Walter felt about her being with the Babbitt. “I don’t think that’s what happened to Uncle Will.”

  “We don’t know what happened.”

  “Maybe.” Layne stirred cream into her coffee. She was pretty sure Aunt Dee didn’t want anyone in the family to know about the investigation unless proof of her husband’s innocence was found. “You’re looking especially bright and happy, Stef,” she commented instead. “Is something going on?”

  “Nothing more than usual,” Steffie denied, yet the color in her cheeks deepened. Something was definitely going on. “Just remember the folks mean well, even if they have the tact of jackhammers.”

  Layne knew her mother and father had good intentions, but that didn’t stop them from driving her crazy.

  It also didn’t mean they weren’t disappointed she hadn’t turned out to be more like the rest of the family.

  * * *

  FIVE HOURS LATER Layne walked into Uncle Will’s study, utterly exhausted. Her parents and sister had finally left. Aunt Dee, being an unfailingly gracious hostess, had invited Barbara and Stephanie to dinner. Naturally Layne’s father was also called and invited, so he’d driven in from Issaquah. They’d eaten and chatted and laughed with an occasional glance of exasperation in her direction.

  “Don’t let it get to you, Lani,” said Aunt Dee as Layne sank into her uncle’s executive chair. “Barbara doesn’t mean to upset you—it’s just her way. She was appalled when I wanted to study painting in Italy instead of going to college. At the very least she felt I should get a doctorate in art history and teach at the university.”

  “But you met Uncle Will in Italy.”

  “And now she probably feels it would be better if we hadn’t met.”

  Layne was startled. “Surely not.”

  “Barbara has her own way of looking at things.”

  “True enough. Oh, I have news. Matt Hollister came by my house this afternoon.”

  “Did he want an apology?” Dee leaned against the doorjamb with a chagrined expression. “I don’t know what came over me at the gala. I’ve just been so frustrated with everybody refusing to talk to me, and suddenly I’d had enough.”

  Layne didn’t remind her aunt of the wine she’d consumed that night, which probably had something to do with lowering her inhibitions. “He didn’t ask for an apology. He claims he wants to help and gave me some details of the case. The embezzlement was done through illegal wire transfers from client accounts on Thursday nights, using Uncle Will’s passwords when he was working late. I don’t get it, why was he working late any night?”

  “That was when I was driving up to Mount Vernon every week to spend time with your grandmother,” Dee explained. “Remember? She wasn’t doing well after her gallbladder operation and Will urged me to visit as often as I wanted. I went up every Thursday morning and returned by the time he was home from the office on Friday afternoon. I really don’t know what Will was doing those nights, or who he might have been...with.”

  “Oh.” Layne couldn’t help noticing the way her aunt broke eye contact and the unhappy line of her lips.

  Dear Lord, could she have suspected Uncle Will wasn’t at the office because he was having an affair? It seemed impossible.

  “I’d get back from Mount Vernon and William would ask how Mother was,” Aunt Dee murmured. “I would ask him about his days and he’d say it was fine, and that was that. He didn’t talk about his work. Look, if you don’t need me for anything, I’m going up to my studio.”

  “Sure.”

  When Layne was alone again she flipped through her notebook. Something had been nagging at her since talking to Matt, so she read through the list of everything she’d logged from the boxes sent over by Huds
on & Davidson. Yes, that was it—a phone message. She extracted a small sheet of yellow paper from the files she’d created; it was a form used by a secretary to pass on phone calls to an executive. Printed at the top was the company logo, and it read “UR VM bx is full! RD called n wants 2 know if ur coming 2nite.”

  The message showed the month and day, but there was no return phone number or other details, not even who’d taken the call. The texting style was unusual in connection to a dignified firm like Hudson & Davidson, so the author should be easy to identify. Layne hadn’t questioned the note when she’d filed the message, thinking RD was Robert Dunnigan—her mom and Aunt Dee’s brother—and that they were visiting him together. RD was what Uncle Rob’s friends called him. But now, thanks to Matt Hollister, she knew why the police had suspected her uncle and more about how and when the thefts had occurred.

  Layne pulled up the calendar function on Uncle Will’s computer and checked the date of the call against the prior year. It was a Thursday, not long before everything had fallen apart, and she recalled that Rob had been on medical leave at the time, recovering from injuries he’d gotten from a roadside bomb in the Middle East.

  Was that the proof Uncle Will had expected to use? The message could have been from Rob, calling to confirm plans to visit. They’d gotten along well, speaking the same language with Uncle Will being former navy and Rob being a naval officer in a special forces unit. And, if Uncle Will could have proved he was visiting his brother-in-law on one of the nights an illegal money transfer occurred, it would have thrown doubt on the original investigation.

  Layne was shaking with excitement, but she’d have to wait to email Uncle Rob. Her pay-as-you-go phone didn’t have internet access and Aunt Dee had canceled her internet service to save money after Uncle Will died. In any case, it might take Rob a while to call; he was an explosive ordnance disposal specialist and could be deployed anywhere in the world.

  She had to be careful or the police would claim she was just making assumptions. But Rob had been staying at a friend’s home in Aberdeen, Washington, at the time, and Aberdeen was near enough that Uncle Will could have driven there for an evening.