Wentworth nodded. “I didn’t see any hint of anything wrong until after Blanton forced the sale of Luke’s ranch. Once he bought that property, things changed.”
“Changed how?”
Wentworth leaned back, tapping his pen against a pile of papers. “That year, there are cancelled checks for construction materials from vendors other than his regulars.”
“That’s allowed.”
“Cancelled checks with no invoices to account for them. I looked the companies up. They appear to sell the same kinds of materials as the regular vendors.”
“Lower quality materials?”
“Hard to tell without the invoices.”
Zeph doodled a cartoon man looking through bars. “My suspicious mind suggests that he bought expensive materials on the books and cheap ones under the table, charged the clients high prices for junk, sold the expensive stuff and skimmed the difference.”
“I agree. And that first year, he couldn’t come up with the cash to make double purchases. But after that, he kept a second set of books.”
“Probably,” Zeph said absently. “Most of them do. But a good accountant can often find clues in the falsified books. Still, we’ll want to find the duplicate set.”
“How do you propose to do that? I can give you permission to search the company office, but only an idiot would hide anything here. And we’ll never get a search warrant for Rodriguez’s house. Not to mention that if he is involved, he’s had six months to hide them, or burn them, or send them to Mexico, or...”
Zeph put down his pen and looked at Wentworth.
“Right. Mr. Stealth and Sneak. Of course.” Wentworth’s reading glasses had slipped down his nose. He gazed at Zeph over the top of them. “Nothing you found would be admissible in court.”
Zeph put on his most bland expression. “Really? I’d better find another way, then.”
Wentworth snorted.
“So those cabins he built next to Allie’s property,” Zeph said. When he said her name, heat jolted through him and he had to drag his mind back to Blanton. “They could have been a trial run. I’m told they were pretty shoddy work.” The memory of Allie’s mouth when she said ‘stupid cabins’ made him lose focus for a second. “Seems odd he’d do that right in his back yard.”
“Very.” Wentworth nodded. “But he was odd that year. He acted...different.”
“Different how?”
“He’d just been elected mayor, but I thought he had something on his mind besides town business. No idea what it might have been.”
Zeph frowned. “Usually when someone shits in his own back yard, he’s planning to leave. But Blanton stayed on for ten years. How can we explain that?”
“The scam worked better than he expected? He changed his mind when he was elected mayor? We might look for some hint of offshore accounts.”
“And check the town financial records.”
“We did that. There were some strange transactions that last year.”
“Sounds like he was preparing to leave.”
Wentworth nodded.
Silence fell, broken only by the occasional scratch of pen on paper. Finally Zeph raised his head. “His big expansion started a few months after the cabins were finished. But how would he get his substandard work past inspections?”
“One thing about scams,” Wentworth answered, “is that they leave paper trails. Let’s see who did the inspections.”
“And who bought the cabins.”
“Right.”
Shadows lengthened on the street. Late afternoon sun sent a shaft of brilliance through the window and across the cluttered table before Zeph put down his pen. “So Mentrine bought one of those cabins. I don’t recognize any of the other names. I’m surprised he’d buy something like that. And stand for the poor quality.”
“The same three inspectors have done the final approvals on all of the jobs I listed. As well as those cabins on the old Stone ranch.”
Zeph sighed. “You know what this means.”
“More paperwork?” Wentworth hazarded. “Finding out if they did anything more than the final inspections. Checking every building permit in the state to see what other jobs they’ve worked on? Cross-correlating the in-progress inspectors to see what they inspected, if they were on other Blanton jobs…we need help right now.”
“Frank can handle that. What about Rodriguez?”
“I would have sworn he was an honest man,” Wentworth said. “If he’s involved...well, I pride myself on having learned to size people up. All those years on the bench, you know. It would be an awful blow to my pride to learn I was wrong.”
“Maybe I should just ask him.”
“Good idea. And then—”
“One step at a time.”
Wentworth’s reading glasses had slipped down his nose. He gazed at Zeph over the top of them. “Which translates to ‘I don’t have a clue.’ Right?”
Zeph grinned. “Right.”
Wentworth tapped the papers he held into a neat stack, set it on the table, and folded his hands. “Well, now that we’ve made some progress here,” he said, pinning Zeph with a direct look, “perhaps we could talk about whether you have a clue about my daughter or not.”
He had a clue. He just didn’t know what to do with it. “Allie’s very special.”
“I know that,” Wentworth snapped. “The question is, what are you going to do about it? You’ve come to town under, I gather, completely false pretenses. When you leave, everyone in town is going to assume that you—ah, dumped, I believe is the modern term—my daughter. Aside from whatever feelings she has for you, how do you think the public humiliation is going to make her feel?”
“I—” Zeph shut his mouth. He had no idea how to answer that. “Back up. I didn’t come to town under completely false pretenses. At least not as far as Allie’s concerned. I jumped at the chance to come here because it meant seeing her again, and she knew I came here on a job. Before that—you know she dumped me? Just blew me off with a note.”
“No, I didn’t know that. And I wasn’t aware that she knew in the beginning that a job brought you here. But you’ve allowed everyone to think you have intentions toward her.”
He did. He just wasn’t sure—yes, he was. He wanted Allie in his life, twenty four seven and—he gulped—forever. He just couldn’t make the words come out. “I—I—” He swallowed. “I live in Los Angeles.”
“And Allie doesn’t.”
Zeph nodded.
“You think you’ll be able to convince her to move?”
“Maybe.” Maybe not.
“Allie has some very strong reasons for her feelings about cities.”
“Such as?”
“The easy answer is that she’s lost a beloved pet in every city we’ve lived in.”
“I didn’t realize she’d ever actually spent time in a city.”
Wentworth snorted. “Allie is not the simple country girl you may think she is.”
“I noticed.”
“Ah, yes. The dinner in Sacramento. We’ve lived in Athens, London, Washington, and—” He grimaced. “And New York.”
Zeph’s attention sharpened. “Pets die. That can’t have come as a surprise. What happened in New York?
“Briefly, she tried to thwart a dognapper and was kidnapped.”
Fury—and fear—turned his world upside down. “I’ll kill him.”
“Allie and Duke took care of that,” Lincoln said with a wintery smile.
“She—?”
“She and the dog. Before the scumbag shot them.”
“He shot Allie?”
Lincoln nodded. “Duke died protecting her. Quite a dog. And quite a woman, my Allie.”
Zeph slumped back in his chair, more depressed than he’d ever been in his life. He’d never get her to come to L. A.
Wentworth regarded him, looking every bit the wise and benign judge Zeph imagined he’d been. “I’ve been hoping that the right someone might help her get over that trauma.
Tell me, have you ever been married before? Or engaged? Or close to it?”
Zeph shook his head, but a faint hope stirred deep inside him.
“I think I understand.” His eyes twinkled. “Given your miserable expression, except when you’re looking at my daughter, I’d guess you’re about down for the count. And facing the end of a happy bachelorhood causes some panic, I imagine.” He quirked an eyebrow at Zeph.
Panic. Yeah, good description, that. He nodded.
“Perhaps I owe you an apology, young man, but I still want to know your intentions toward my daughter. You intimated the other day that you might be serious, and I’m guessing you are. But are you going to turn tail and run? Or are you really serious about her?”
Zeph drew in a deep breath. “I think Allie is the one for me. And yes, that scares me. A lot. And we have a few problems to work out. Those problems—” He held up a hand to stop Wentworth’s comment. “Are our business. I respect your feelings for Allie, but she’s an adult and entitled to some privacy. I’m sure you’re the first person she’ll tell when we…decide.”
“Bravely said.” Wentworth gave Zeph a long, level look that had him feeling like a teen picking up his prom date. Or was that guilty conscience over the things he’d done to and with the man’s daughter only a few hours ago? “All right, Zeph. Point taken. Now, let’s get on home. Martha’s not feeling well, and I said I’d fix dinner. Ever peeled a potato?”
He ate potatoes. As a rowdy kid, he’d stuffed them in tailpipes a time or two. But peel them? “How hard can it be?”
Chapter 10
The next afternoon, when Lincoln left the office, Zeph elected to walk down to Betty’s to meet Allie. Lincoln’s parting smile had been downright paternal, sending fight-or-flight messages to Zeph’s feet. His feet weren’t listening. They, like the rest of him, basked in afterglow from the picnic.
He strolled down the street, happy satisfaction overflowing in a smile that spread across his face until he figured he looked like a real idiot. But who cared? He didn’t.
Not until he turned into the café and came face to face with his mother.
“There he is now,” Betty said, loudly and unnecessarily.
“Zeph,” his mother cried, and threw her arms around him. “Oh, baby, it’s so good to see you.”
“Mother? What the—what are you doing here?”
“I came to spend Thanksgiving with you, of course. When I got your letter that you were working and couldn’t come home for the holiday I thought I’d just come up here and surprise you, even if it meant having dinner in a restaurant. But—” Arms akimbo, she gave him the laser stare that had always reduced him to mumbling apology. “But Betty has kindly explained that you’re here for quite another reason.”
He’d been in tough spots before. Like the time those drug dealers tried to kill him. Like the time he’d been chained in a cellar in a deserted house and left to starve. Like the time—it didn’t matter. This had them beat all to hell and back. Talk about the lady or the tiger…out his job to the gossip mill or get his mother involved in the Allie thing. “That was nice of her,” he said. “But look, you must be tired. Let’s go over to the motel and—”
The door opened behind him and Lincoln said, “I forgot to ask you—”
Shit. Could it get worse? While he tried to figure that out, it did. His mother poked him in the ribs as a reminder to be polite. “Mother,” he said dutifully, “this is Lincoln Wentworth. Lincoln, my mother, Elena Granger.”
While his mother and Lincoln said polite social nothings to each other, Zeph tried to figure out how he’d gotten in this mess. And more important, how he could get out of it.
“Isn’t that wonderful, dear?” his mother asked.
“Sure. What?”
“Honestly, Zeph. How you ever manage to get through life the way you woolgather... Lincoln has very kindly invited me to stay at his house, since you’re already there. And to stay for Thanksgiving dinner. I thought I’d find a motel...a restaurant...I never expected…Lincoln, that is so kind of you.”
God, take me now. “Yes. Kind,” Zeph repeated. This was the worst. “Uh—you’re staying through Thanksgiving, Mom?”
“Of course. I’m taking my vacation time, honey, and I’ve always wanted to see this part of the country. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Thirteen days to Thanksgiving. Doom stared him in the face. Much as he loved his mother, he’d be the first to say that she had no more concept of discretion than—than Betty. The principles of confidentiality didn’t seem to compute in her universe. The idea of knowing something and keeping it private was as foreign as a man from Mars. He moaned. Everyone in town would know everything about him and his job and his feelings for Allie, right down to the scar on his butt from a roller skating accident when he was ten. “Wonderful,” he repeated, his voice leaden.
Lincoln gave him a sharp look, but he was too numb to react. “Well, Elena, let’s go get you settled. My car is outside, so if you’ll follow me...oh, and Zeph, please tell Allie that we have everything for dinner so she doesn’t need to stop at the grocery. She said she’d be done about four, so we’ll expect you shortly.” He shepherded Zeph’s mother out the door, leaving Zeph standing immobile, wondering how his mother and Lincoln had gotten on first name terms so quickly.
“Something wrong, honey?” Betty asked.
“No.” Nothing. Only that he’d never get this job done now, not with his mother here telling everyone everything. Only that he’d be lucky not to get fired. Only the end of his chance to make partner. He really loved his mother, but why now? Why here? Why didn’t Betty serve whiskey?
Betty took his arm and led him to a booth. In a minute she hurried back with a cup of coffee. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”
He looked up and saw curiosity practically leaping off her in waves. “Thanks, Betty,” he said and raised the coffee cup. The first gulp almost knocked his head off. “Wha—” he gasped.
“You looked like you needed a little boost.” Betty smiled. “My cousin’s son makes it and I keep a little on hand for emergencies. Reckon this is one. Don’t understand why you’re not happy to see your mama, nice as she is, but you looked like you about got run over by Josten’s bull. Here comes Allie. She’ll take care of you.” And Betty flipped off toward the kitchen, leaving Zeph torn between panic and amusement.
Allie came through the door and looked around. Her face lit when she saw him and she hurried to slide into the booth to face him.
“What’s wrong?” were her first words.
“My mother’s here.”
“How wonderful.” Allie’s face glowed. “I’d love to meet her.”
“Yeah.”
She frowned. “Don’t you like her?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then I don’t understand—oh. I guess I do.” She took his arm and led him outside. “You’re afraid your mother will think you’re really interested in me.” Her voice had gone flat and expressionless.
“I am interested in you,” he protested. “After yesterday, you can’t think—”
“That was just sex. Isn’t that the guy thing?”
He grabbed her arms and swung her to face him. “That was not just sex. Honest to God, Allie, how could you think that?”
“We both know this can’t go anywhere else, so—”
“Uh oh. This looks like trouble in paradise.” The voice was rich, fruity, and…unwelcome.
“Hello, Bill,” Allie said with resignation. “No trouble. Just a little discussion. What are you up to?”
“Coffee break,” Bartelett said. “Getting out to see my constituents. Got to stay in touch with what the people want.”
Did everything that came out of his mouth have be so—so—political? “Have fun,” Zeph said, trying not to snarl.
“Were you able to get up to my place to see about that prowler?”
“Yes. No sign of one. We’ve got to go. Lincoln’s waiting for us.” He hauled Allie towa
rd the car.
But—” Bartelett said as the door slammed behind them.
“We have to stop—” Allie began.
“No, we don’t. We have to get to your Dad’s and muzzle my mother.”
“Why? Is she going to reveal some dark secret you don’t want Dad—or me—to know?” She turned on him, scowling. “It’s not like we’re engaged, Zeph. You’re perfectly free to walk away from me any time you want. I don’t think your secrets matter all that much.”
None of the gun shots or knives in his past had cut so hard or deep. His breath hitched. “That’s not the problem,” he said as soon as he could be sure his voice was steady. “She told Betty I was here working. If she tells anyone else…if Betty decides she was telling the truth…my undercover status is shaky enough as it is.”
“Of course. It’s all about the job. I should have realized.”
The pain in her voice cut even deeper. “It damned well is not, Allie. I—” he gulped. “I think I love you.” It didn’t hurt, so he said it again. “I love you, and I want us to have a chance to work things out without a lot of outside pressures.”
“Like your mother ordering the wedding cake and hiring a band?” Temper licked through her voice.
Girl stuff alert. “Well—well, yeah.”
“Don’t worry about it. I won’t take it seriously.”
Shit. “I—” What? He wanted her to take it seriously. He thought. Was almost sure.
“Never mind.” The words came out tight. Not quite angry. Definitely not happy. “Here we are.” She slammed the truck to a halt behind her Dad’s SUV.
“Where’s Mom’s car?” Zeph said.
Allie gave him A Look.
“Okay. You don’t know. Let’s go ask your dad.” He got out of the truck and followed Allie inside.
His mother wasn’t there. Of course. Lincoln looked up from his desk, looking stern and judicial peering over his half glasses when they knocked on the door.
“She went where?” Zeph exerted all his control to keep from yelling.
“She forgot something at Betty’s,” Lincoln repeated. “She went to get it. What’s the problem, Zeph? She’s a big girl, and Betty’s isn’t exactly a dangerous place.”
Zeph Undercover Page 16
