by Rickie Blair
“Under control. Are you going to help me or not?”
He sighed, tapping one hand on the table, and looked away.
“You don’t get it. Fulton’s made a lot of people rich. Not only investors, but their advisers as well. Capital Street Management pays feeder funds enormous fees to bring in even more investors. Nobody wants those fees to stop. Whatever Fulton’s doing, they want him to keep doing it. Nobody wants to examine it too closely.”
The guard stepped up.
“Five minutes.”
“Did your ever meet his original partner, Edwin Gavan?”
“Not in person. He was before my time. He embezzled money or something. The only time I heard Fulton speak about it, he referred to it as a great betrayal. He was quite worked up about it, said their families had vacationed together and so forth.”
“What happened to Gavan’s family?”
“No idea. He had a daughter, but I don’t know what happened to her.”
“How did they figure out Gavan committed fraud?”
“Fulton turned him in. He and the other partner. I forget his name.”
“De Montagny?”
He nodded. “That was it, Jourdain de Montagny.”
“So where’s Edwin Gavan today?”
Antony looked surprised.
“He’s been dead for years. He committed suicide before his trial.”
“Before his trial? Not after?”
“That’s right.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Maybe he felt guilty. Some people do.”
The guard took several paces toward them.
“Time’s up.”
Antony pushed back his chair and stood.
“I don’t remember all the details. Like I said, I wasn’t there.” He followed the guard out, stopping at the door for a backward glance. He grinned at her and her heart melted. But only for a second.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The bustling waiters, the laughter, and the babbling voices faded away as Hari stared into those blue eyes with their tiny flecks of gold. Leta smiled and put a hand over his. A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the last time they’d been together. He pulled his hand away. Focus.
“Why you didn’t tell me you were in Paris?”
“Because Fulton wanted me to pay his respects to his partner’s widow, check in with his office, and come right back.”
“But I was there, you were there, we might have met for a meal at least.”
Leta looked up at the waiter and smiled as he refilled her wine glass. She turned to Hari.
“We’re having a meal now, aren’t we?”
He frowned. Perhaps he was overreacting, but it was his turn.
“Yes, but—”
“We’re together, enjoying each other’s company, in one of the world’s greatest cities. What difference does it make if it’s Paris or New York?” She raised her glass and smiled at him. “But if you want, I think I can recall my high school French. Bonne appetit, mon cher.” She took a sip of wine, replaced the glass on the table, fixed her blue eyes on his, and added, “Tu as un beau cul.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I have a—?”
“Great ass.”
He nearly spit out his wine.
She raised her eyebrows, smiling sweetly.
“Is it my accent?”
“I’m sure your accent is fine. I’m also sure you didn’t learn that in your high school French class.” He chuckled, and his annoyance faded.
“You’re not angry any more?”
“I was never angry, I was puzzled. Let’s face it, I don’t know much about you. Yet you seem to know all about me.”
She ran a finger along the rim of her wine glass.
“Not everything. I don’t know why your wife lives in Mumbai and you don’t. There must be a story there.”
“There is.”
“And?”
“It’s not mine to tell.”
“Well then, whose?”
“Aren’t I allowed to have secrets? Or is that strictly your domain?”
She lifted her glass and smiled at him over the rim.
“I haven’t been entirely honest with you, it’s true.”
“And?”
“Later. I promise.”
The waiter returned, placing linguine carbonara in front of Leta and grilled red snapper in front of Hari. Leta inhaled deeply of the steam rising from her plate and winked at him. He shook his head and smiled, then picked up his knife and fork. They ate silently for a few minutes and then Leta pushed her plate away.
“What’s wrong? Is the pasta not good?”
“It’s delicious. I’m just not hungry.”
“Well, since we’re in one of the world’s greatest cities, maybe we should do some sightseeing.”
She tilted her head and smiled at him.
“There are a few sights you haven’t seen yet.”
“Such as?”
“I can’t tell you here.”
* * *
Much later, in her apartment, Leta nestled in his arms.
“You said you hadn’t been entirely honest,” Hari asked. “What about?”
Pushing his arms away, she sat up and turned to face him, suddenly serious.
“My stalker. I didn’t meet him in juvenile detention. It was in a … psychiatric hospital.”
Hari ran his hand down her arm and entwined his fingers with hers. He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“Go on.”
“I was a patient.” Leta shook her head. “I’m sorry, I should have told you. It wasn’t serious, depression mostly. They thought I might harm myself.”
“Did you?”
“No. But Terrell—that’s his name, Terrell Oakes—he was different. He was scary.”
A chill ran down Hari’s spine and he sat up.
“What did you say his name was?”
“Terrell Oakes.”
“Do you know where he works?”
“Yes, because I got him the job. Global TradeFair. It’s a company in Jersey City that’s affiliated with Capital Street Management. I was trying to help him. I thought maybe he had changed.” She took a deep breath, her eyes wide. “When he was younger, he killed someone.”
Hari ran a hand through his hair with a grimace.
“I’m not surprised. He nearly killed me.”
Her jaw dropped.
“What?”
“In my apartment. Terrell Oakes is the man who attacked me.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“Why would I? I had no idea you knew him.”
“But how do you know him?”
“TradeFair interviewed him when they were trying to find their whistleblower, and I watched the interviews. If he’s a killer, by the way, why is he not in prison?”
“He was a minor, so his record was sealed. The court said he had rage issues and needed counseling.”
Hari stood to snatch his pants off the floor and step into them.
“Oakes must have been looking for the TradeFair papers at Ruby’s apartment. We have to warn her, in case he comes back.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Benjamin shivered and drew his blanket closer. His bruises throbbed and his chest rasped with every breath. The only thing that kept panic at bay was knowing his friends must be looking for him by now. Maybe even the police.
Something rattled on the floor beside him. He lifted his head and reached out a hand.
“Is someone there?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” the woman said. “I only wanted to wake you.”
The blackness gradually lifted, replaced by a murky glow that outlined a man in the hall outside the door. Benjamin eyed him warily.
“Why the hell is he still here?” the man barked. “You said it would be over by now.”
Benjamin backed against the wall, shaking.
The woman turned her head to the door.
“Why are you
here?”
“Job for the old man.”
“What are you waiting for, then? I can handle this.”
There was a loud harrumph and the splash of spit hitting the floor. Then the door slammed shut.
The woman squeezed Benjamin’s shoulder.
“Ben, I need you to walk me through your Capital Street findings.”
“I don’t know who you are.”
“You don’t have to. I want to expose Fulton as a fraud, the same as you. But I’m not as clever as you, Benjamin. I need help to understand your analysis. How long ago did it become a fraud?”
“Years, I think.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
She knelt beside him.
“Did you know there was a third partner?”
“I think so. He died, didn’t he?”
“Nearly twenty years ago. Does Fulton’s fraud go back that far?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s not good enough, Ben.”
“You can’t keep me here forever. My friends are looking for me.”
“No, they’re not.”
“W-what do you mean?”
“You gave us the password to your email, remember? Benjamin Levitt sent reassuring messages to his friends days ago. No one’s looking for you.”
“No…” He raised a hand to his throat, struggling to breathe.
She gave his arm a reassuring pat.
“I have transactions for you to review. But first, I’ll take you somewhere else, somewhere safer.” She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Somewhere he can’t find you.”
After tightening the blindfold around his head, she guided him along the corridor and up the stairs. A gust of salty air hit his face and he bent over, coughing. The woman tugged on his elbow and Benjamin shambled ahead, seeing cobblestones under his blindfold and then a blue van. The woman helped him in and the van lurched ahead.
A few minutes later, she helped him down and they walked through scrub grass and sand. Hinges squealed and they stepped indoors. The woman led him to a chair and tied a cord around his wrists.
“I’m sorry, Benjamin, but you can’t leave me yet. Understand?”
His head sank onto his chest. She stepped away and a padlock clicked.
“I have food for you and I’m making tea,” she said.
A kettle shrieked, and the blindfold fell away. Benjamin raised his head to stare into the woman’s face.
“I … I know you.”
“Yes, you do.”
“What do you want?”
“I told you. I want to talk about Capital Street’s early days. Remember?”
He nodded weakly.
“Good. Then let’s get started.” She untied the cord and handed him a mug of tea.
Chapter Forty
Ruby smiled at her lunch companion in a crowded café off Mulberry Street. “Thanks for joining me, Leta.”
“Thanks for the invite. I’ve been dying to have a heart-to-heart.”
“Really?” Ruby selected a pumpernickel roll from the basket on the table and tore it into pieces. “Tell me more.”
“Hari and I—”
“Are seeing each other, I know.”
“Of course you would, since the two of you—”
“Work together, but not all the time. Is that a problem?” Ruby spread butter on a piece of roll before popping it into her mouth. Fortunately Natalia wasn’t around to slap her hand away from the butter dish. Her heart sank at the thought of her acting coach. She still had no idea what to do about her mentor’s dubious investment.
“No, no, of course not,” Leta said. “That’s not what I meant.”
Ruby studied her companion, suppressing a sigh. Leta’s distress at the apparent misunderstanding had only enhanced her blue-and-gold eyes. In Ruby’s case, the same distress would have reddened her nose. Still, she took solace in the thought that if Natalia had been present, she would have chided Leta for over-acting. She picked up another piece of pumpernickel and reached for the butter.
“I only meant you’ve been friends a long time,” Leta said.
“I guess. We were at the academy together.”
“I know. Hari told me how close you were.”
Ruby stifled her irritation. Hari and Leta had been together two weeks and now they were soulmates? She tilted her head.
“Although … he was a little puzzled that you were in Paris when we were there and you didn’t call.”
Leta winced and held up her hands, looking even more distressed.
“I arrived and left all on the same day. There was no time. Besides, you two were working.”
“He told you that?”
“Not the details.”
“You know we found de Montagny’s body.”
“Yes. How horrible.” Leta picked up her fork and twisted it in her untouched Cobb salad. “But why did you want to talk to de Montagny in the first place? I don’t understand the connection.”
Ruby deflected the question with a slight shrug.
“Why were you there?”
“Fulton sent me. He wanted someone from the New York office to offer his condolences in person to Madame de Montagny.”
“And bring her husband’s business papers back.”
“Some, yes. But that has nothing to do with—” Leta paused. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.” Smiling, she speared a lettuce leaf.
They ate quietly for a few minutes. Then Ruby pushed away her plate and leaned back with a loud sigh.
“I may as well confess. I had an ulterior motive for asking you to lunch. I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t say yes until you hear me out. I want to talk to Fulton.”
“I can get you an appointment. Why do you want to see him?”
“That’s just it. I don’t want to see him.”
“Are you saying you want to talk to him on the phone?”
“No, in person. But I don’t want him to know it’s me. I want to be someone else.”
Leta blinked rapidly.
“I’m not following.”
“I think Hari told you we’ve been looking for money that was embezzled from a client. Turns out it was sent to de Montagny’s bank to be invested. They sent it back to Manhattan, and we think it went into the Castlebar Fund.”
Leta stared at her, her fork in her hand.
“Look, I’m not implying your boss is a crook,” Ruby said. “I’m sure Fulton has no idea what’s going on, if there is anything going on. But we can’t ask our suspected embezzler about it, because he’s missing and his girlfriend is dead. Murdered.”
“Oh, my God.” Leta’s eyes widened and she put a hand over her mouth.
“Fulton won’t answer any questions about the Castlebar Fund, or let his employees answer any. If Hari or I were to approach him directly, he’d only stonewall us.”
“So you want me to spy on him.”
“No, no, I’d never ask that. I know you can’t help us with our case and I’m not asking you to. But there are other people involved, people I care about. My acting coach has her life savings invested with this embezzler and it’s probably gone. If there’s any way to recover it, I have to try.” She looked down, fingering the tablecloth. “Natalia means the world to me. She’s never made much money. She’s in her seventies now and she has nothing to fall back on if she loses her savings.”
Leta placed her fork carefully across her plate before looking up.
“What exactly are you asking me to do?”
“Will you help me create someone Fulton would agree to meet? And convince him that you’ve researched her background and she’s legit? And,” Ruby leaned in, “I want him to invite her to the Fultons’ Memorial Day gathering, the one they hold every year at their place in Southampton.”
“Are you serious?”
“Will you help me?”
“Why can’t you meet him in his office?”
“I need to get i
nto his home computer. It’s probably linked to Capital Street Management but it won’t have the same firewalls and password protection.” Ruby held up a hand as Leta opened her mouth to protest. “Not for a fishing expedition, I swear. Just to find Natalia’s account and see if her money really is in the Castlebar Fund. I’m not due back at the theater for another week, so it’s the ideal opportunity.”
Leta leaned back, narrowing her eyes.
“Does Hari know about this?”
Ruby smiled.
“Of course.” Actually, her partner’s most likely response would be, Are you out of your mind? But why mention that now? She could fill him in later.
Leta stared at her plate.
“I’ve thought for some time that something’s wrong with the Castlebar Fund. Nothing serious, but there are discrepancies. I think my predecessor in the IT department may have—”
“Cooked the books?”
Leta grimaced and closed her eyes, nodding.
“Is Fulton’s home computer linked to the server at Capital Street Management?”
“Yes,” Leta whispered. She raised her eyes to meet Ruby’s gaze. “I’ll help you. But I’ll deny having this conversation if anyone asks.”
“Fair enough.” Ruby pulled a notepad and pen from her purse. “Let’s get started.” She flipped the pad to a clean page and looked at Leta.
“The easiest way to see Fulton is to have money to invest.”
“How much?”
“Fifty million, if you want to make sure he’ll see you in person.”
“That’s a lot.”
“And you’re young, so it would make more sense if it was an unexpected inheritance.”
“How could I inherit fifty million unexpectedly?”
“If you knew about it in advance, investment advisors would be lined up waiting for you to inherit and you wouldn’t need Fulton’s advice, or his fund.” Leta tapped her fingers on the table. “What if you didn’t know you were an heiress because—”
“Because I’d never known my father. But as he grew older and more sentimental he decided to find the child he fathered decades ago—”
“So he hires an investigator, who finds you—”
“And mere weeks after our tearful reconciliation, dear old dad drops dead—”
