“Something like that,” Millie said, getting more and more enthusiastic about the scenario as the detective described it. “Does that make sense?”
“Actually, it does. Can you give me this girl’s name again? And the two other guys?”
Millie cheered silently, making Harlow jump up from a sound sleep. They left the room, the others following them like sheep. She listed them out and could hear the scribble of a pen on paper, the detective’s grip tense. “Okay, Millie, I’m going to follow up on this. Can you please not make contact with any of these people?”
That wasn’t a difficult request; pawn shops weren’t her style. She didn’t like the energy there and felt the people who ran them often cheated customers out of a lot of money. “I won’t talk to any of them. However, if I could get that flash drive back so I can return it to Anna, that would be good.”
“Are you going to be home tomorrow?”
Millie hesitated. She had plans in the morning, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to share them with Detective Marx. Deciding she’d told him enough about her patronage of the shop, she said, “I’m attending the open memorial service for Mr. Whitman in the morning, but otherwise, I’ll be home.”
“You aren’t going to snoop around, are you?” Marx groaned.
“No, I’m going because I liked Mr. Whitman and want to pay my respects.” If she happened to discover a clue of some kind while she was there, it would be a bonus. At least, that’s what she would hold to if she turned any information over to the detective.
“Okay, but I don’t want to hear any complaints of a nice lady no one knows asking questions or snapping photos of guests to look through later. I’ll drop by around noon tomorrow to give you the flash drive.”
She smiled. She didn’t need pictures of people; that’s what the log book was for. And no one would catch her doing that, since she’d slip out during the service when everyone was preoccupied with the eulogy and sniffling. She would be sniffling, as well, and if anyone noticed her leaving the room, they would just think she was too overwhelmed to continue sitting there.
“I’ll behave, I promise.” She hung up and shouted out loud, ready to do a dance. She saw Grant and Harlow peeking around the corner of the bedroom where they’d hidden, as if they were terrified she’d actually lost her mind. She laughed and cooed at them. “Come on, babies, we deserve a treat. Mama’s worked hard all day and finally had a breakthrough, and now, because I remembered to set our show to record tonight, we can pop some popcorn and have some tasty morsels to celebrate while we watch.”
***
Millie had a harder time attending Mr. Whitman’s memorial service, having known the man, and also having missed Margaret’s services. It didn’t help that she’d received a text from Doug thanking her for the flowers as well as the donation, and that he would call her midweek to talk.
But she had a purpose, and she held to it. In the midst of a slideshow of photos that recalled Gordon Whitman’s life, she slipped into the foyer and did her thing with the guest log. When she was done, she stepped back into the main room and scanned the crowd, looking for any faces she recognized from yesterday’s funeral.
She didn’t see anyone that caught her attention, but then, her eyes landed on a bright blonde head of hair, obviously bleached and perfectly quaffed. The woman glanced around the room, her blue eyes dry and her face almost irritated. Millie knew who she was, and the rich tan suit she wore, which Millie found highly inappropriate for mourning, attested to her belief, especially as the woman’s breasts strained against the suit jacket.
It was Whitman’s ex-wife. Bea Forks looked entirely the wife of a plastic surgeon and just as high maintenance as she’d sounded in everything Millie had read. The woman had a snide expression, and Millie couldn’t make heads or tails of why she had attended at all. She and Gordon had been divorced practically since the dawn of time. She was remarried and put herself out in the public eye to get attention.
Millie knew she should leave before she did something she regretted, but her curiosity kept her there, sitting in the back row with several other people she recognized as regular patrons of the jewelry store. Several people stood to speak, including Anna, who cried as she said, “I’ve never felt so welcome by an employer, never felt like part of a family at my place of work, except with Gordon Whitman. He was a great man, who was willing to give almost anyone a chance, and often, he took those lacking drive and brought them to their full potential, simply through kindness and support. I’ll miss him. Our team at Whitman’s Jewelers will miss him. The world will miss him because he made it a better place.”
The speech moved Millie, and it alone made her decide to stay, if for no other reason than to give the girl a hug. She would also be able to give her the good – and bad – news about the police findings on her records. She waited for the lines to form to get up to the casket and pay respects, but she didn’t join. It was a closed casket, and she hadn’t known the man well enough to feel like she should lay her hands on his final resting place. Besides, she had a much better vantage point from the back of the room, watching the others move along.
She caught Anna at the exit to the foyer and wrapped her in a warm embrace. “You gave a beautiful speech, sweetheart.”
Anna nodded and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Thank you. He was like another father to me, you know?” She sniffled and forced a smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to blubber. It’s just that I’ve been so worried about who he really was and what’s going to happen to the store. And all of that is on top of mourning his loss because, regardless of what he hid from everyone, he was a good man.”
Millie hated to mention it, but she felt the girl had a right to know before she ended up putting a bid in on the store, if it was even for sale. “Anna, honey, I heard from the police last night, and I’ll have your drive back to you this afternoon. But they’ve found evidence of exactly what you feared, though they aren’t sure Mr. Whitman had anything to do with it. They’re still investigating where that money could have gone, but I thought you should know that not all of your current team are necessarily trustworthy.”
Anna looked fearful and disappointed. “Do you think this whole thing will affect whoever gets the business? I mean, if there’s missing money, does the new owner become accountable for it?” She swallowed hard. “And how do I know who I can trust? I still work with all of them, and I will until…” She shook her head. “It’s all so much to take in.”
“Well, take it slow and easy, and I’ll bring you back your drive this afternoon, okay?” She hugged Anna one more time and moved away, scanning the milling crowd for Bea Forks. She located the woman off in a corner, twirling an unlit cigarette and wearing a bored expression. Every so often, a griever would walk by and offer condolences to her, and she would graciously accept the greeting, but as soon as the person walked away, she went right back to her neutral, almost disgusted expression.
Moving between people, Millie made her way over, and when she finally stood in front of the woman, she started off with something flattering rather than sympathy. She thought Bea would be a little more forthcoming if she used honey, and as she realized the pun, she wanted to laugh. Putting on a sober but shocked expression, she stepped right in front of the woman. “Oh, my god, you’re that surgeon’s wife. What’s his name? Brett Forks! I’ve seen all the commercials and the interviews, and I’ve watched news clips of you at charity events.” She held out her hand. “I’m Millie Holland. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The first genuine smile she’d seen on Bea’s face curled her lips. “You’re very kind, Ms. Holland.” She motioned toward the goings-on around them. “Did you know Gordon well?”
Millie frowned deeply. “I shopped at his store often, and he always remembered my name when he was there. I regret not having gotten closer to him, since he was such a wonderful person. How did you know him?”
Bea looked a little uncomfortable. “We were married, once upon a time. We did
n’t really talk anymore, but I thought it would be good to come to the memorial service, at least.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not exactly a heartless witch like so many of our old friends thought when we separated.” She shifted, still twirling the cigarette. “I’d like to step out and smoke, but I can’t seem to get away from all the people.”
“Well, as a mourning ex-wife, you’re popular here, I’m sure. But you also deserve your space. Go ahead and do what you feel is necessary to cope, alright? It was wonderful meeting you, and I hope someday to get up to Dr. Forks office for a little work.” Millie shook her hand vigorously again.
“Mention Gordon. I think my husband would be more than willing to give you a significant discount,” Bea called as she headed for a side door.
She didn’t care about Gordon Whitman at all; she wanted the publicity that came with making the appearance, along with the sympathy involved. And there was something else there, though she couldn’t put her finger on it. Feeling a bit disturbed now, she left quickly, heading straight home to wait for Marx. She began to consider alternatives to the scenarios she’d discussed with the detective, as well as those she’d formulated that she hadn’t yet shared. She had a sneaking suspicion that Bea Forks was involved in one aspect or another of the crimes at hand, and she intended to find out how. All it took was a client of her husband’s having some sort of access to the jewelry store or knowing Carlisle or one of the pawn shop employees, and she could easily be involved in the whole plot.
She didn’t mention her concern to Detective Marx when he arrived; he was obviously taking the day off, since he was in a t-shirt and jeans, which made him look very different and quite handsome. She simply took the flash drive and thanked him for taking the time out of his day to return it. She waited to be sure he was gone and not intending to follow her before she left again, to the protests of her cats, who felt neglected with her being gone so much. She didn’t know why she was so concerned with being discreet in returning the files, but it was a protocol she felt was necessary.
At the jewelry store, she found Anna still in the clothes she’d worn to the funeral, looking quite distraught while still managing to handle clientele with a great show of grace. Millie waited while she took care of a purchase, and after the customer left, she approached the girl, immediately passing her the drive. “This has been a huge help, Anna. You did a wonderful thing turning it over,” she praised, hoping it would help her feel better.
The girl smiled sadly. “I’m glad. You didn’t happen to find out what all this would mean for the new owner, did you?”
“Not yet,” Millie told her regretfully. “But I’m sure it’ll depend on who was involved in taking the money and what happened to it. Also, it might depend on if Mr. Whitman had enough money to pay back taxes on the missing money. Just don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll all be taken care of in time. Do you happen to know when the reading of the will happens?”
“I think the family is gathering tomorrow with the lawyer for that.” She sighed. “I wish he’d just left the place to someone in particular and told us about it. You know, he wasn’t old or anything, but he did have a lot of businesses and a lot of money. And he ate poorly. Something like this could have happened at any time.”
Millie hesitated, considering Anna’s choice of words. If the will hadn’t been read, how did the girl know Mr. Whitman hadn’t left his businesses to someone in particular? It was an odd statement, and even though she trusted the girl, something about this conversation sat heavily in her stomach and felt wrong. She smiled at the girl, trying to appear unshaken, and told her, “I’m sure it would have been easier, but I’m also sure he had a reason for doing things the way he did.” She stepped back. “I have to go, but I’ll see you again soon, okay? Chin up. Everything will work out in time.”
And it would, whether for better or worse for Anna. Millie only hoped her newfound suspicion of the girl was misguided.
Chapter 7
Waiting to learn what had come of reading the will was maddening, and Millie spent her time looking at the public portfolio of Dr. Brett Forks, as well as seeking out any information she could find that she hadn’t already scoured about Bea. Unfortunately, she didn’t find any public record of any of her current culprits having work done by the renowned plastic surgeon.
However, one thing appeared that Millie hadn’t expected, and it implicated Bea Forks all the more. Apparently, before their divorce, Bea Whitman had taken out a life insurance policy on Gordon, and she’d never cancelled it. That meant that, unless there was some stipulation that the policy wasn’t payable in the case of a murder, she was going to get a hefty payout in the next couple of weeks. If she was reading the information on the type of policy right, it could very well add up to a sum that crossed the million dollar line.
Certainly, the woman’s new husband was worth far more than that, but it was still significant, especially if it was to be in her name alone. Why would she be hiding a million dollars? Millie couldn’t say, but she could imagine a number of reasons, not the least of which was that she wanted to move on and divorce this husband, too. The money would give her something to stand on, even if she couldn’t make a case for half of everything Dr. Forks had.
She called Marx’s cell phone, but she got his voicemail. She left him a message that she had something important to tell him, but she told him he didn’t have to call today if he was relaxing for a change. She went on to look for any connection Bea had with another member of the crew that she believed heart and soul now had plotted the whole scheme, but she came up empty-handed. It looked like her life had truly been separate from Gordon’s for a great many years.
She was growing frustrated when her phone rang, and she couldn’t believe her relief at the fact Marx was returning her call so quickly. “Hello, Detective,” she greeted cheerfully.
“What did you get yourself into after I left?” he asked, sounding almost teasing. Perhaps a day of rest changed his entire attitude on life. “I thought I told you to stay out of trouble.”
“I’m definitely not in trouble, Detective, but I know someone who likely is.” She rattled off her suspicions about the ex-wife, and the detective listened quietly until she was done. “I’m still favoring the group from the pawn shop as accomplices working with Carlisle, but I think maybe she had a hand in the money skimmed from the business.”
“It’s probable. Just so you know, finding the problem with the financial documentation at the jewelry store has led to getting a warrant to seize all financial records for all of Whitman’s businesses. Usually, when one business is corrupted, all the others under the same ownership will be. That still doesn’t mean it was Whitman’s doing, but I can imagine there are at least a few people in his employment that would have access to all the finances.”
Millie thought briefly about Anna, but she’d been honest up till now, and she hadn’t mentioned touching the finances on the other businesses. “You’re probably right, but I’m not sure who it would be.”
“Well, that’s a task for my team, so don’t go digging into it, okay?”
This was getting to be a little more compound than Millie had imagined it would, and she had no desire to stick her nose into a dangerous situation. She’d worn out her courage for the moment, so she told Marx, “I’m perfectly okay with that. I’ll satisfy my sleuthing needs with research, and if I find anything else that can make a charge stick, I’ll pass it over.”
Marx actually laughed, and Millie couldn’t believe how deep and soothing the rumble was. The detective wasn’t mirthful by any means, so she was proud to have elicited it from him. “Alright, Millie, I’ll hold you to that. And do me a favor. Call me John, okay? No more ‘detective’ labels. I think you’ve earned the right to use my first name.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She disconnected and decided she really needed to spend some time with her family. She’d spent a lot of time away from them in the last week, and they deserved her attention. She reached into t
he desk drawer and pulled out the laser pointer, turning it on, and the apartment became a madhouse as five cats frantically chased the moving red light, trying to capture it for their own. They bumped into each other, jumped and landed on each other, and yowled and scratched at any surface the light touched.
Millie sat in the desk chair, laughing hysterically. There was nothing a little laser chase couldn’t cure. It was the most amusing thing she did with her babies, and it only took a little flick of the wrist on her part. She could sit still and have the cats running themselves ragged. After half an hour, they would be exhausted, and they wouldn’t crave the attention the same way they did now. She felt guilty for avoiding this for so long, and she made sure she kept going strong and played a little longer than usual to make up for her negligence.
When they were finally done, she put the laser pointer away, and she moved to the couch, where the five children convened to get some rest. They were winded and breathing heavily, and they all tried to curl close to her, even Coraline, who typically liked to assert her independence. As they began to settle and Newman snored on her shoulder, Millie allowed herself a rare treat. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, letting the sounds and warmth of the sleeping cats lull her to sleep. She never napped unless she was sick, but the last several days had been hectic, and she’d kept herself going nonstop.
CATch a Killer (A Millie Holland Cat Cozy Mystery Series Book 2) Page 5
