The Pleasure Set

by Lisa Girolami

  “Yes, at least that’s what it looks like.”

  “And you don’t know who’s dealing the heroin?”

  Laney realized that Sandrine was allowing Laney to reveal details she might not have told the other detectives. She must have come by because sometimes people have second thoughts about holding back information.

  “I truly don’t know. All Kay told me was that the money came from that source. She was so drunk that was all I could get out of her.”

  “And you said there have been no wire transfers to overseas companies that you know of.”

  “Not from my bank.”

  “What’s so odd is that this appears to be a classic type of money laundering, not contemporary.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “In a classic laundering scheme, a business is created to ostensibly earn money, like any business that brings in a good deal of cash will do. They operate the business as usual during the day. Then they feed in the day’s illicit receipts, deposit them in the bank, and spend them like everyone else does. When tax time rolls around, they pay their taxes like everyone else, as well. It all looks like a profitable business.”

  “Isn’t that the way it works?”

  “Traditionally, yes. Laundering became very popular during Prohibition. And small businesses, like coin-operated Laundromats or car-wash companies, are good vehicles. Illegal gains are made to disappear and the businesses are used to move money through because it’s hard to track just how much money actually goes into the places. And then they make the money reappear in some slow but steady manner that doesn’t bring it to anyone’s attention.”

  “And how is that different from contemporary laundering?”

  “Contemporary laundering uses wire transfers and other electronic means to move money around through so many different international channels that it’s much more difficult to track the origin.”

  “So these women are just more immature in their scheme?”

  “I’d say they’re more old-fashioned.”

  “I wouldn’t consider them old-fashioned. That’s too innocent a description.” Laney grimaced.

  “Old-fashioned in that it is so simple and obvious that they thought it could fly under the radar.”

  “These women have it all. I doubt they really need the money. And I’m beginning to doubt that they fear their husbands are trying to screw them financially.” Laney felt distraught and confused. “Why would they do this?”

  Sandrine shrugged. “For kicks. To prove they can do it and get away with it. We see a lot of bored rich people do crazy things. Criminals know that we follow the money. We follow financial records. People with low-paying jobs who suddenly pull up in their driveway in a Porsche raise suspicion, and those cases are a lot easier to solve. But these women live expensive lifestyles so no one thinks twice about the money they flash.

  “Your friends.” Sandrine paused. “These women established the gallery for what we call invoice scamming. They record what looks like legitimate sales, but in order to make the money reappear, they need a bank to move it to so they can write checks for other things, making everything look lawful. But they usually need someone at the bank to look the other way. Typically, that bank employee has a lucrative reason to be involved and protect the scam because they know the cash flow will stop if they don’t.”

  “I never took money from this.”

  “She never offered you a cut?”

  “I didn’t even know about it.”

  “That’s unusual, since the risk of exposure, due to not having anyone on the inside, is high.”

  Laney knew what the benefit had been. She had gained acceptance into the elite crowd. She had hobnobbed with rich, entitled women and gone to places people only dreamed of. She had been pals with actresses and made to feel like a celebrity, but not because they saw her as a friend. That stung. They had duped her into becoming a group member all because Theresa needed an ignorant foil.

  That made her angry and, as she looked at Sandrine, humiliated. “I never took a penny,” Laney reiterated. “And they never told me about the scheme.”

  “So she didn’t want you to know. If you didn’t know you wouldn’t say no to the laundering. If ignorant about the activities, you couldn’t say the wrong thing to your regulators or auditors.”

  “But allowing my bank to be used by someone else to launder the proceeds of a crime, even if I was unaware, can still indict me.”

  “Your only defense is to prove you didn’t know what was happening.”

  “That’ll be next to impossible.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it will.”

  “Have they found out anything about the deaths of Bridget and Candace?”

  “They haven’t debriefed me yet.”

  “There is one thing that bothers me about that.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Bridget was in the group of women, and she was the vice president of a bank.”

  Sandrine hardly paused before she said, “She’s dead, out of the group, and now you’re in the group and you’re also with a bank.”

  Laney nodded, grateful that Sandrine was so astute.

  “You were chosen to be in the group based on your position at the First Bank of Rodeo.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You were being groomed.”

  “Knowing that asking me to join the group was premeditated makes my skin crawl.”

  “I’ll make sure Detective MacRae knows to investigate the possible connection between Bridget and you.” Sandrine stood slowly. “Thank you for your time.”

  Laney flinched. Their interaction was even more businesslike than the times at her bank when they dealt with other crimes. At least before, they also chatted about their lives and had fostered a friendship. But Laney understood the severity of the bombshell she’d just dropped on Sandrine. It was the most prudent way Sandrine could conduct herself. Laney was now part of this corruption, not just the president of a victimized bank.

  She walked Sandrine to the door, and when she opened it, Sandrine hesitated. Laney couldn’t find words and presumed Sandrine couldn’t either.

  The long minute or more that they looked into each other’s eyes was unbearable.

  Then something miraculous happened. Sandrine cupped Laney’s cheek with her hand, which was warm. Laney closed her eyes, absorbing a benevolent compassion from the touch. Was this the last tender contact she’d ever feel from Sandrine? When she opened her eyes Sandrine’s image was blurred by the most recent of many tears that Laney shed.

  Without another word, Sandrine kissed Laney lightly on the lips.

  But Laney could tell that Sandrine was struggling. It seemed that Sandrine’s desire to kiss her warred with the need to walk away. It pained Laney to know she had caused Sandrine such conflict. Laney wanted to tell her she was sorry. She wanted to tell her not to give up on them, but she made no move to do anything else.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Theresa, I got a call from the police. They want to question me about your accounts.” Laney gripped the phone as she talked.

  “You didn’t talk to them?”

  “No, one of my employees did.”

  “But you said you were going to the police.”

  “I can’t. I’m on the tape, remember? Listen, I don’t like what you’re doing, but I don’t want a scandal in my bank. I’m mad as hell at you, but it’s not worth losing my job over. Anyway, it was reported before I could make the paperwork go away. I’m just giving you a heads up since I’m sure they’ll call you now.”

  “What do you plan to tell the police?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know anything about it.”

  After a pause on the other end Theresa said, “I never wanted you to be mad at me, darling. I’ll make this up to you.”

  Laney hung up the phone and stared at the wall of her living room. She had just taken the next step toward taking back control. She clenched her jaw, feeling its rigidity along the sides of h
er face. Admittedly, it had been dangerous and insane to lie to Theresa, but that was the only way she could cover herself when Theresa was brought in for questioning. That way, Theresa would believe Laney hadn’t betrayed them and she would still be able to infiltrate the group and get more evidence without Theresa suspecting too much. Granted, after their last confrontation, Theresa would be suspicious of her now, but if she could make her believe she was in the same amount of trouble as Theresa, she might have a chance to clear her name.

  Besides, if Theresa had been lying all along to gain the upper hand, Laney could throw one back for her own benefit.

  *

  “Detective Girard.” The police department front desk had called Sandrine.

  “Yes?”

  “You have a visitor. Front lobby.”

  When Sandrine reached the lobby, she looked around for the person who had requested her. She scanned from the group of people milling around asking for an officer to a couple waiting to get a yard-sale permit and spotted Laney at the far corner, looking at a glass case filled with the department’s awards.

  Laney turned as she reached her. “I’m sorry to bother you at work. I need to talk to you.”

  “Is this business or private?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  “Let’s go outside, then.”

  Sandrine walked Laney down the front sidewalk and to the side of the building where a patch of grass grew under two large oak trees. Though passersby strolled down the street, not many people visited the shady area except at lunchtime. They could have some privacy here.

  “I didn’t sleep all night,” Laney said. “I can’t imagine it’s been much better for you. Maybe you’re already on overload with everything you’ve found out recently, but I hope you’ll hear me out.”

  Sandrine wanted to wrap her arms around Laney, but the urge also scared her. Everything in her told her to run from this woman she wasn’t sure she could trust now.

  “I know I might have messed up any possibility for us to start a relationship, but Sandrine, please believe that I’m seriously aware of my horrible choice to spend time with Theresa and her friends. You may decide not to date someone who makes such bad choices, but that’s all I’m guilty of. And as soon as I realized my mistake, I backed out of that situation.”

  Sandrine took the time to consider Laney’s words. She could see in her eyes that she meant what she was saying, but Sandrine couldn’t simply accept her explanation and forget what she had done.

  Granted, Sandrine had made terrible choices in her life, a few potentially as bad as Laney’s—without the legalities involved but, nevertheless, just as bad. And could she really condemn Laney based on this one incident, given the fact that she had known her a long time and always liked what she saw?

  True, she had only known Laney in a business sense, but she had always trusted her ability to read people. It had gotten her far in her career. However, she had made bad relationship choices and she certainly didn’t want to start the next one off on the wrong foot.

  “Laney, I hear your words. But some conditions make me want to step back.”

  “Conditions?”

  “My heart, for one. I’m pretty jumbled up. Do you understand?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Also, you and I associate with each other on professional terms about problems with the bank. Because we’re in a personal relationship, there’s now the problem of ethics. Given your involvement with the perpetrators, a shadow hangs over you now and, ethically, any police officer who is, or has been, involved with someone who is embroiled in a crime is flirting with departmental action.”

  “I hear what you’re saying.” Laney’s face was strained and Sandrine hurt for her.

  Sandrine anxiously began to rub her forehead. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I understand,” Laney said. “And I’ll fix this.”

  Sandrine wasn’t sure how she could at this point. At least not without going down a long, drawn-out legal road. “How?”

  “I intend to get the evidence you need.”

  Sandrine dropped her hand from her forehead. “You what?”

  “I’ll get evidence to not only trap these women but to prove my innocence.”

  “No, Laney, you can’t do that.”

  “I’m the only one who can.”

  “The risk is too high. These women could be killers, Laney.”

  “The risk of losing you is worse.”

  Sandrine opened her mouth to say more, but the impact of what Laney said hit her squarely in the chest. This woman standing before her was willing to do whatever she had to in order to clear her name and prove to Sandrine that she could be trusted. “No, Laney,” she said gently, “let us handle this.”

  “I can get into the middle of the group, Sandrine. I can get more information. It would be easy.”

  “And too dangerous. Theresa already knows that you’re not on her side. She knows that you don’t approve of what she’s doing. She won’t trust you. In fact, she’ll assume you’re up to something and watch you like a hawk. Or worse. I can’t let that happen.”

  Laney dropped her head.

  “I wish it weren’t that way, Laney, believe me.”

  “You do?”

  “I do. I’ve spent a long time wanting you.” There, she’d said it. “You wouldn’t have known that because I’d never be obvious about it while you were with Judith. And then I had the opportunity to get to know you better, and I really liked what I learned about you and what I experienced,” she took a breath, “and felt.”

  When Laney reached to take her hand, Sandrine allowed it but knew Laney would notice that it was shaking.

  “Is there still a chance for us?” Laney said, “because I so very much want this, you and me.”

  “We’ll have to see. I can’t deny my feelings for you. But I’m being honest with you that I’m torn over this.”

  “I understand your feelings, Sandrine, I really do. This has threatened a deep part of you. The part your mother abused. But please don’t give up on us.”

  Everything Sandrine wanted was standing right in front of her. Come on, just trust this, she tried to tell herself, but images of her mother and her partner Tom crashed through her brain. She shook her head and sucked in a shaky breath.

  She pulled Laney’s hand toward her. Her body followed and she kissed her quickly before she could reason the feeling away. She wrapped her arms around Laney, drawing her into a tight hug. Though the kiss had been contrary to her better judgment, it was entirely in harmony with the feelings she couldn’t quite squelch.

  “I’m not sure I can walk away from you, Laney. And that scares me very much. In the meantime, please listen to me and don’t go see them.” Sandrine’s last words became firm. Then she softened her tone. “After this is over, we’ll talk about us.”

  Laney nodded. “I’ll get going now. Thank you for listening to me.”

  Sandrine walked back to her office with more uncertainty and longing than she had felt twenty minutes earlier. Just before she sat down at her desk, she reached into her pocket and withdrew the drilled quarter Laney had given her. She slowly flipped it over and over, studying it. The quarter represented Laney’s love of the bank and her dream to make it the best bank ever. It also represented the dream a young Laney wished would come true.

  What the hell should I do?

  She rubbed the quarter with her thumb until it grew warm. She looked over to the pile of folders in her inbox. The First Bank of Rodeo’s money-laundering case sat right on top. There, that was black and white, a group of facts and evidence. She knew how to handle that. Like all her other work, she would tackle the case with confidence and a complete command of each step along the way.

  It was easy when her brain was wholly engaged. But with Laney, her heart was the driving force, and she was profoundly confused.

  Why was this situation so muddled in her head? Life was usually so black and white, with either good guys or bad g
uys. A led to B, which led to C, and then the answer was obvious. It was never this murky. My professional life is easy as long as I simply follow the facts, so why can’t I resolve my dilemma with Laney?

  Why is it so hard to just walk away from her? Why isn’t the answer obvious? Why…

  “Oh, my God.” Sandrine suddenly realized the obvious. “I’m falling in love with her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Angry and nervous, Sandrine waited for them to bring Theresa Aguilar in for questioning. She had gone through so many mental pictures of what the woman would look like. Normally, these interviews were predictable—lots of questions and a lot of cagey answers. Many people acted as if they were completely innocent, with eyebrows and voices raised high, hoping they could convince her that they weren’t guilty. Others were defensive, posturing with angry body language as if their demeanor would intimidate her enough to back off. A few crumbled at the first inquiry, crying and sobbing that they meant no harm or that horrible financial problems had driven them to the crime, expecting to be forgiven and walk off scot-free.

  Which tack would Ms. Aguilar take? Sandrine felt off balance.

  Just before noon, Theresa walked into the interrogation room. Sandrine was immediately stunned that she was not only attractive, but alluring, in her low-slung Prada dress and expensive jewelry. She had expected a high-class Beverly Hills wife, but this woman was all business, exceedingly gorgeous, and she reeked of charm and confidence.

  Theresa strode right up to Sandrine, holding out her hand. “I’m Theresa Aguilar and you are?”

  “Detective Girard. Please sit.”

  Sandrine opened the folder in front of her. “I don’t want to keep you long, Ms. Aguilar, but I need to ask you about your association with the First Bank of Rodeo.”

  “Certainly.” Theresa was relaxed, smiling directly at her.

  “Approximately four and a half weeks ago, you opened an account as well as a safety-deposit box at the bank. Is that correct?”