What She Gave Away (Santa Barbara Suspense Book 1)

by Catharine Riggs

  “There’s a reason for that.”

  Dipak grimaces and picks up his cell. “I gotta go. Shelby’s parents are coming tonight. I promised I’d help her pack.”

  I stand and face him, feeling lost and alone. If only there was something I could do to get his job back. Give him a second chance. I consider speaking to George, but what exactly would I say?

  “I’ll miss you.” I order my eyes to stay dry.

  “I’ll miss you too.” Dipak reaches over and hugs me, and I don’t even flinch. He’s so little that it feels awkward. But then again, it feels nice. “I’ll be sending you an invite to the wedding.” His eyes search mine. “You’ll come, right?”

  “Sure,” I lie.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Good. Until then.”

  He walks off, and I settle on the bench and stuff the rest of my sandwich in my mouth. Everyone always leaves me. I’ll never be anything but alone.

  A spider crawls across my neck. I jump and spin around and almost slap Mimi’s face. “What’re you doing here? We’re not supposed to be seen together, remember?”

  “I saw him.” Her eyes glow.

  “Saw who?”

  “The bad guy. You know. The one from the train.”

  “Van Meter?”

  “Yeah. I like to spy on him when he comes downtown. He does all sorts of weird things. Today he followed you from the bank.”

  “Shit.” My mouth goes dry. “You sure it was him?”

  “Yep.” She points at a tall man hurrying down the street. It doesn’t take a genius to recognize Van Meter’s stride.

  “Double shit.”

  “He was hiding in the bushes behind you. I hope you didn’t tell any secrets. He probably heard everything you said.”

  I think back on my words. If he did overhear us, he’ll know that I know.

  Mimi crouches and eyes Dipak’s untouched sandwich. “Can I have that?”

  “Sure.”

  “Yay.”

  I picture Van Meter smashing his foot into Rich’s face. Fear creeps up my spine. “We have to be careful,” I say. “The bad guy might try to hurt us.”

  Mimi mumbles through a mouthful of bread. “Of course,” she says. “Or maybe I’ll hurt him first.” She pulls out her knife and flicks it open. The blade glitters in the dappled sunlight.

  I wonder again at the many faces of Mimi. Is she an innocent? Or a killer? Or some weird combination of both? I get an eerie feeling that I’ll know the answer very soon.

  Kathi

  September 2, 2016

  Leo’s office smells like old leather. I never noticed that before.

  “I’m glad you could finally make it in to see me,” Leo says, a frown pinching his haggard face.

  “Sorry it’s taken so long to get back to you.” I’ve been avoiding Leo’s calls ever since Arthur told me about the dementia. Of course, now I have no idea who or what to believe.

  “I left quite a few messages.”

  “I know. I’ve been busy.” Tick. Tick. Tick. I frown at the ugly clock.

  “With what?”

  “With . . .” What have I been doing? Oh yes. “I’ve been working on my novel.”

  “Are you getting close?”

  “To finishing?” I shake my head. “Not quite.”

  “Well, it’s nice you’ve found a hobby.”

  “It’s not a hobby. I’m hoping it becomes my life’s work.”

  “Of course.” Leo pages through my file. “Are you getting out and doing things?”

  “Yes. Quite a bit.” I try to sound perky, but I hear the failure in my tone. Oh, why won’t Arthur reach out? I’d forgive him for lying about the state of his marriage. My heart aches with a schoolgirl crush.

  “Well, I must say you’re looking healthier. Not as . . .”

  “Thin?”

  “Pale.”

  “Thank you.” Healthy is a code word for fat, but it’s not like it matters anymore.

  Leo lowers his brow and leans forward. “Well, I have news—some of it good and some of it . . . well, some of it might be rather difficult to hear. Where shall I begin?”

  “I guess you should begin with the good news. Maybe it’ll cheer me up.”

  “All right. The good news is that the feds have determined you didn’t access the safe deposit box on the morning of Rich’s death.”

  “Finally. Why’d they change their minds?”

  He retrieves a grainy photo from my file and hands it to me. “This was taken of a woman entering the vault on the morning of Rich’s death. She forged your signature on the entry log. The forgery was quite good.”

  I peer at the photo and recognize my wide-brimmed hat and Gucci sunglasses. And even the cut of my dress. But the way the woman stands with her hips thrust forward? That’s clearly not me.

  “Who is this?” I ask.

  “Look closely.” He points to the woman’s heels.

  “Why, they’re barely shoes . . . more like spikes.”

  “Exactly. Know anyone at the bank who dresses that way?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

  Leo takes a deep breath. “The woman in the photo is Vanessa Allen.”

  “Vanessa? From the compliance department? I don’t understand.”

  “The FBI was able to identify her through a fingerprint they found inside your safe deposit box. They now believe that Rich gave her the key.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “We’ll get to that in a moment. First, I want to ask you a few questions. I’m trying to make a case for the feds dropping the charges altogether.”

  “Go ahead.” The ormolu clock chimes four, only an hour away from a glass of wine.

  “Tell me about the day you signed the home equity documents.”

  “But that was over a year ago.”

  “It may be important to your case.”

  “All right.” I lean back in my chair and close my eyes and try to picture that long-ago day. “I remember I was upset because Rich told me about the signing at the very last second. I had to cancel my appointment at Claudio’s, and they charged me two hundred dollars to not cut my hair.”

  “So he was rushed? Irritable?”

  I blink a few times. “He was always rushed and irritable at work. But as usual, I did what he said. When I arrived at his office, I found him in a terrible state because the bank notary was out sick. He ordered George to fire the poor girl.”

  “But eventually they found someone . . .”

  “Yes. Vanessa notarized the documents.”

  Leo writes something in my file and looks up. “Did it seem strange that the head of compliance would do that type of work?”

  “Not really. Vanessa was a founding employee of the bank. She’d do anything for Rich. He called her his work wife.”

  “And that didn’t bother you?”

  “Are you asking me if I was jealous?”

  “Or worried?”

  “Well, I wasn’t. I trusted Rich. And anyway, she wasn’t his type.”

  Leo leans back in his chair. He can’t hide the pity in his eyes. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Vanessa was deeply involved in Rich’s scams. She has confirmed that the money found in the safe deposit box belonged to Mabel McCarthy.”

  The old fuzzy feeling starts up again. “How would she know that?”

  “The morning of Rich’s death, he asked her to retrieve fifty thousand dollars from the box.”

  “But why?” Nothing makes sense.

  “She doesn’t know, or at least she won’t say. She swore she gave it to him. That money has not been found.”

  “But why would Rich use Vanessa? Couldn’t he have gotten the money on his own?”

  “He knew he was under investigation, that his time as a CEO was coming to an end. He’d grown extremely paranoid—and rightfully so. His every move was being monitored. For whatever reason, he needed money that morning, so he took some clothes fro
m your closet and had Vanessa disguise herself as you.”

  “It still doesn’t explain—”

  “I think it does, Kathi. I think that the truth is right before your eyes, but you don’t want to see.”

  “See what?”

  Leo clears his throat. “Rich and Vanessa were having an affair.”

  An explosion rips through my heart. “I should go.”

  “Take a seat, Kathi.”

  “But—”

  “I want you to sit.”

  I ease back down on the chair.

  “And please stop humming.”

  “Am I humming?”

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s important you do.”

  My hands are gripped so tight my nails cut through my skin.

  “Rich and Vanessa were having an affair. It had been going on for quite some time.”

  I sink low in my chair, my mind awhirl. Flashes of scenes come before me. Late nights at the office. Extended conferences. Perfume on shirts. Discreet phone calls. No interest in sex. My thoughts tumble this way and that until I’m sickened by anger and grief.

  “Are you sure?” I ask in a trembling voice.

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  An image of Vanessa floats before me, all smiling, thin, and blonde. She was so very nice, always complimenting me on my outfits.

  “And it wasn’t just a casual thing,” Leo continues. “They were planning to get married, but Rich was worried about the impact a divorce would have on his wealth.”

  “Divorce?” I struggle to get out the word.

  “Yes. His plan was to divorce you and leave you with next to nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Unfortunately, it’s true.”

  My thoughts whirl until they blur.

  “As you know, California is a community property state. That means fifty percent of the family assets belong to you.”

  “So how could he steal them?”

  “He was devious about that. Over the past few years he’s taken out loans against the vacation home, cars, and boat and funneled the money into an account he maintains in the Cook Islands. It’s why you are so far in debt.”

  “So he was planning to leave me with nothing?”

  “Next to nothing, to be exact.”

  My anger hisses like a steam engine. My heart beats through my chest. “I hate him.”

  “Unfortunately, there’s more. The missing million dollars from your home equity loan? We discovered where that went too. It was funneled through shell companies into an LLC, where it was invested into a local construction project. Casa Bella.”

  The pounding in my ears grows louder with every breath. “Are you sure?”

  He nods. “I hired a forensic accountant who was able to follow the trail. The bad news is that the million dollars is lost. The good news is that he’s located the Cook Island accounts. It’ll take some time, but eventually that money will be returned to you. Once you sell your assets and retire the debt, you’ll be financially sound.”

  “I don’t believe this . . .”

  “You don’t believe what?”

  I grab a wad of tissues from my purse and begin to shred them into bits. “Arthur would’ve told me about the investment.”

  “Arthur?”

  “Arthur Van Meter.”

  A harsh look crosses Leo’s face. “Don’t tell me you’ve had contact with that man.”

  I lift my chin. “Is that a problem?”

  “Yes. He has a terrible reputation. He’s been sued for fraud.”

  “He’s not like that.”

  “He’s not?”

  “No. And I don’t believe he knew that Rich invested our money in his project.”

  Leo picks up a stack of papers and slaps them on the desk. “Don’t be stupid, Kathi. I have the evidence right here. You’re welcome to review it.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “You can’t avoid the truth.”

  “Can’t I?”

  A frown overtakes Leo’s face. “What’s wrong with you, Kathi?”

  I stare at him, thinking I’ve never really liked him. “I just can’t believe what you’re saying about Arthur. I won’t believe it. He’s been there for me. He offered me help and friendship when no one else would.” I nearly choke on my words.

  “If he offered you help, it’s because he wanted something from you. That’s it. At the very least he’s a crook. He may be something worse. I’m concerned he made contact with you.”

  I think back to the morning at the market. “I believe I made contact with him.”

  “I’m guessing he manipulated the situation. That’s what men like him do.”

  I want to cover my ears. “He was kind and gentle. He was helping me.”

  Leo clears his throat. “He’s a narcissist, Kathi. And a sociopath. That’s how he gets away with so much. No one can believe the handsome guy with a movie star smile can do anything wrong. But whether or not you want to believe it, Rich created a number of shell corporations and invested a million dollars of your money without your knowledge in the Casa Bella project. The ultimate intent was to hide the funds from you, which is basically a form of theft. And my guess is Van Meter was in on the plan. Rich probably paid him handsomely to keep his mouth shut. We’ll take legal action against him. So I suggest you stay away from that man. Can you do that for me? Please?”

  “Is there a chance you’re wrong about any of this?” I ask, feeling defeated.

  “I’m afraid not. Along with the forensic accounting, I have Vanessa’s deposition right here. She wired the home equity money to Van Meter and then attempted to cover her tracks.”

  “Oh.” I’m trembling so hard I feel sick. “So you’re telling me I’ve been scammed by both of them . . . both Rich and Arthur?”

  Leo gets up, comes to my side of the desk, and sits in the adjacent chair. He reaches out and takes my hand. “I’m sorry about all of this, Kathi. I know it’s hard to believe, but things are looking up. The charges against you are due to be dropped, and we’ll retrieve your money soon. Before you know it, you’ll get your old life back.”

  My shoulders slump. “I have no life.”

  “That’s not true, Kathi. Things look dark at the moment, but they’ll get better over time.”

  I tug my hand from Leo’s and swipe at my tears. “I find that hard to believe.” I sink deeper in my chair. There is no upside to any of this. My path forward is bathed in shadows. I fumble for my purse.

  “Just a moment, Kathi. There’s one more issue we need to discuss.”

  “I can’t take any more.”

  “It’s about Jack.”

  “What about him?”

  “Let me get you some water.”

  “I don’t want any.”

  “Well, I need some. I’ll be right back.”

  Crystal

  August 14, 2016

  At the end of my work day, I step out of the bank to find Marco lurking at the front door. I’m tired. I’m hungry. I have a headache. Marco is the last person I want to see.

  “You haven’t returned my calls,” he says.

  “I’ve been busy.” I push past him.

  “Wait up.” Marco matches his step to mine. “You’ve become quite the walker.”

  “Good for me.”

  “Have time for a drink?”

  “No.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Home.”

  “Mind if I tag along?”

  I stop in my tracks and fold my arms. I’ve always pictured Marco as a giant of a man, but in truth he’s shorter than me. “What do you want?”

  “To talk.”

  “I have things to do.”

  “I think you should hear me out.”

  I can’t avoid him forever. It’s not like I’m unprepared. “All right,” I say. “But just one beer. Where to?”

  “How about Playa Verde?”

  “Works for me.”

  We t
ake seats at an outdoor booth on the restaurant’s shaded terrace. It would typically be crowded at this time of day, but a clammy fog has rolled in.

  “This all right with you?” he asks.

  “Fine.”

  He babbles on about some Bakersfield gossip that is of no interest to me. When our beers arrive, he stops with the chitchat and goes in for a premeditated kill. “So I hear things have been rough at the bank.”

  I bite into a stale tortilla chip and almost spit it out. “In what way?” I try dipping a chip in the ruby-red salsa. It’s too bland to help.

  He folds his arms and leans back. “You’re short on time. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “So let’s be honest, you and me. Not only do I read the papers; I have access to information at work.”

  “Then I’m sure you know more than I do.”

  “I know that Richard Wright was up to no good. He forged financials, committed bank fraud, and possibly stole the savings of an elderly neighbor.”

  “As I said, you know more than I do.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “I’m just a low-level worker.”

  “Well, low-level or not, it seems strange that wherever you go, a questionable death turns up.”

  “Wherever I go? Are you kidding me? I’ve only had two jobs in my life. I can’t help it if a couple of bad things happened. Bad things happen every day.”

  “So it’s all a coincidence?”

  “All what?”

  “Where were you the night of March 14?”

  “Are you interrogating me?”

  “Just interested.”

  “I was at home.”

  “Can anyone verify that?”

  I shrug. “My landlord’s a snoop. She might’ve noticed. But she’s old, and it’s been so long I doubt she would remember.”

  “So you weren’t anywhere near the train tracks? You weren’t there that night?”

  “You’re suggesting I was one of the homeless women?”

  “Because if you were trying to help, that’s one thing.”

  “Do I look homeless?”

  “The video footage of the accident is crappy, but one of the two women was, well, rather large.”