“Okay, we’re in,” she said, bringing up the accounting application. “We’ll start four weeks ago.” She scrolled through Wonder-Gen’s list of deposits with a frown on her face. “At first glance, these all look like legit payments from repeat customers. There are no random, unaccounted-for deposits without a corresponding purchase order number.”
I thought for a moment. At Java Jive, it would be easy to feed cash into the coffers by adding fake items to a customer’s order, collecting their money for the correct amount, and then slipping extra cash in with theirs to round out the higher total. Or you could make altogether fake transactions and put cash in the till for the entire amount for that ticket. It would take forever to launder money one latte at a time, but here their purchase orders were for thousands of dollars, so they could easily slip money in hand over fist.
I snapped my fingers. “We need to cross-reference the deposits with the purchase orders. Aside from paying cash to employees or creditors, it would be the easiest place to fudge the numbers.”
“Ooh, smart girl.” She clicked on another application on the computer, which brought up Wonder-Gen’s purchase order program. “They’re here in the system, but I noticed some filing cabinets in the metal shop had drawer cards marked purchase orders. Will you fetch the physical POs for us so we can double-check them against these?”
My eyebrows shot up. “You just happened to noticed what the drawer cards on the filing cabinets said?” That metal shop was such a complete disaster zone, I couldn’t see anything for the mess.
She replied, “Attention to detail is a private investigator’s best tool.”
“You’re like the Yoda of PIs.”
Chapter 11
I slipped out the door of Gentry’s office and made for the metal shop. When I rounded a corner, I ran smack into Laura’s cleaning cart.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, steadying several spray bottles that threatened to topple off the top of the cart.
“You’re supposed to be cleaning toilets,” she snapped.
I lied, “I, um, ran out of toilet bowl cleaner.”
“Then you’re using too much. Now get back to work! I shouldn’t have to babysit you. Where’s your friend? Polishing knobs in the boss’s office?”
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Laura was gruff, but she was intent on keeping the team in line. And she was wicked hilarious with her put-downs. If I didn’t already have one crabby older woman on my staff, I’d hire Laura in a heartbeat.
I shrugged. “Gentry left, so she’s not polishing his knob. I think she said she was going to clean the reception area.” I tried to go around her, but she blocked my way.
“The only thing in this direction is the metal shop. The restrooms are back the way you came.”
“Oh, right. It’s so easy to get turned around in here.”
She gave me a condescending smirk. “Not really.”
Playing along, I headed back the way I came and turned down another hall to get to the restroom where I’d left my cleaning supplies. Laura was likely to be on my ass for a while, so I thought I’d at least make the bathrooms smell like I’d cleaned them.
Heading into the men’s, I grabbed the toilet bowl cleaner and sloshed a little into every toilet and urinal, which covered the stale piss stench with a pungent, minty odor. The stained, splattered floors were another story, and I was going to clean those over my dead body. I sprayed a large amount of disinfectant in each sink and called it good. I did the same thing in the women’s, which wasn’t nearly as awful, and made my way back to the metal shop to find the files we needed.
My phone startled me as I stopped at the bank of filing cabinets near the door.
“Hey,” I said, opening a drawer marked PURCHASE ORDERS.
“What’s taking so long?” Maya demanded.
“Laura caught me, and I had to make a detour.” I shined my flashlight in the drawer and groaned. “Men must do the filing back here.”
Whenever Pete got into our files at the coffeehouse, they ended up much like this. The papers were a mess—sticking out haphazardly, crumpled, stained, or a combination of those things. At least they seemed to be sorted by date. There were only two months’ worth of POs in the cabinet, so I took the hanging files labeled with the last four weeks’ dates.
“Just get back quickly,” she said.
“On my way.”
Luckily, I didn’t run into anyone on my way back to Gentry’s office. I knocked quietly, and Maya let me in, closing the door again against prying eyes.
“Okay, let’s do this. Start rattling off those POs, and I’ll find the corresponding deposit.”
I said, “I’ve got a PO for Wagner Industries for four grand on May twenty-seventh. See a deposit to correspond with that?”
She peered at the screen. “Yep. Looks legit. Next.”
“Gallatin Vending, ten grand, May thirtieth.”
“No deposit listed for them.” She typed “Gallatin Vending” into the search bar. “Nothing for Gallatin Vending at all, actually. I find it highly unlikely they got away without paying their bill.”
“Especially since this PO is marked paid, and the money accepted by someone with the initials JW.”
“Jim Wonderlich.”
“That would be my guess. Look at the PO in the system.”
She clicked a few buttons and shook her head. “Hmm. No PO here. Let’s do another.”
“Okay. XB Incorporated, twenty grand, June second.”
Maya frowned. “Again, no PO in the system.”
“And again this PO has been marked paid by JW.”
She turned to look at me, and I could see the concentration in her face as she worked it out in her head. “Could it be that they’re using those physical PO files to keep track of their cash transactions? They could use the computer program to create and print the POs out, then turn around and delete them so there’s no record of them.”
Nodding slowly, I said, “Sounds like a good way to evade the IRS at tax time. They only have physical POs dating back two months, so maybe they’re making them disappear on a regular basis. No POs or deposits means no way to track sales and income. Then if they turn around and pay cash to their employees and to their suppliers, they’re running their business largely on cash and avoiding the taxes on it.”
“Maybe they learned their lesson after being investigated for structuring and decided to be their own bank. I think we may be on to something here.”
“But we still don’t know what that has to do with the late-night stuff going on at the loading dock.”
“That’s what surveillance is for. And as the newbie around here, you get to handle the boring, late-night jobs I don’t want.”
I wrinkled my nose at her. “Lucky me.”
For the next hour, we went through Wonder-Gen’s purchase orders and deposits, finding over five hundred thousand dollars in bogus POs, all personally marked as paid by Jim Wonderlich himself. Wow. We took photos of the POs and printed out copies of the shorted deposit lists to show Gentry.
Maya shut down Gentry’s computer. “I think that’s enough evidence to prove that there’s some kind of money mishandling going on around here. When Gentry decides to turn in his business partner, you’ll have a nice little peace offering to hand over to Hamilton. He’s back in white-collar, you know.”
I glared at her. Stafford had told me about Ryder’s “demotion” of sorts, from homicide back to white-collar crime, which was where he’d been working when I met him. Ryder had made some poor judgment calls in the homicide case he worked, and as a result got suspended for a while as well. He’d only resumed his job with the department about a month ago.
“Me? I don’t think I should be the one to have to deal with—”
The doorknob rattled, silencing me. Maya grabbed my arm and tugged me over to the window. In a flash, she had it open and was already outside, reaching back through to grab the front of my shirt. I scrambled af
ter her, and she closed the window behind me. My heart was still pounding as she hissed, “Front door!” and took off around the side of the building. I raced after her, slipping in the front door moments after she did. We could hear Laura cursing and still jiggling the doorknob down the hall, so we hightailed it to the restroom where we’d left our cleaning supplies. Maya whispered, “Let’s split up,” grabbed hers, and disappeared, while I started spraying down the over-sink mirrors with smelly glass cleaner. I had just picked up a rag to begin wiping them down when Laura marched into the room.
Staring down her nose disdainfully, she said, “You’ve been working on the restrooms all night and this is all you’ve done? I’m going to have to talk to Mr. Gentry about your work ethic.”
I thought about what Gentry had said about getting on Laura’s good side early, which I hadn’t done. However, she seemed like a smart lady, so if something hinky was going on around here, she could very possibly have some insight. Either Maya or I needed to question her, so one of us had to bite the bullet and make friends. I decided to go for the sympathy angle.
Quickly trying to whip up a few tears, I said quietly, “Please give me a chance. After my accident, I’ve been having trouble holding down a job.” I rolled up my sleeves and showed her my scars (one from a knife and one from road rash). “I was hit by a car a few months ago. I broke several bones and got a pretty significant concussion.” True, I was hit by a car, but I flat-out lied about the wounds, except for the ugly mark near my elbow left by the road rash. I continued, “I had this really great job managing a café, but…I can’t…My head just isn’t right anymore for that kind of work.”
Laura’s face had fallen while I’d told her my fake sob story. I almost had her.
I added, “I know how hard it is to manage people who won’t work as hard as you do, so I totally feel your pain. It’s frustrating, and if you come at them too strong, you alienate your staff and have no one to talk to at work. I admit I don’t miss how lonely it gets wearing the manager’s hat.” This part of the conversation wasn’t a lie. Sure, I had a good relationship with my staff now, but it took a long time to get there. And if I didn’t have Pete, working at Java Jive wouldn’t be the pleasure it was, not by a long shot.
Her eyes trained on the floor, she replied, “Yes, that’s definitely true.”
“I promise to work as hard as I possibly can. Can we keep my issues between us? Manager to…former manager?”
Laura looked up at me and actually smiled. “Yes, Brandi. And I wouldn’t mind having someone to talk to every once in a while.”
I reached out and touched her arm. “Thank you, Laura. Maybe on our break we could trade war stories.”
She nodded. “Well, I’d better get back to cracking the whip.”
Laura left, and I waited for a few moments before I got my phone out to text Maya.
I wrote, Guess who made friends with our cranky boss lady?
After a moment, she replied, Takes one to know one. Good job. Get what you can out of the old hag, and I’ll interview Su-Lin.
—
“It’s true. On my first day as manager, a man went into anaphylactic shock and nearly died because my cook put onions on the guy’s sandwich,” I said, lounging in the employee breakroom with Laura. We’d been talking for a while, and she’d shared some pretty crazy stories. None that were helpful to the investigation, though.
“That’s terrible,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee.
“How about you? Have you ever almost lost someone on your watch?”
Laura shook her head. “No, nothing like that. But I have had to break up one fight and call 911 once. Two separate instances.”
“Here?” I asked, hoping to bring the conversation around to this place.
She frowned. “The fight, no. The 911 call, yes.”
I leaned toward her and lowered my voice conspiratorially. “What happened?”
Shrugging, she replied, “I don’t know why anyone was even here that night besides my crew—it was two in the morning. A few weeks ago, I was cleaning in the metal shop and heard someone open the loading dock door. When I looked into the receiving area through the little window in the door, I saw a few men arguing, and it got pretty heated. When it turned into a fistfight, I called the police.”
“Whoa. That’s insane.” I bet that was Wonderlich’s assault charge. “Was it anyone you knew?”
“Mr. Wond—” Her eyes widened as she stopped herself. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said anything.” She placed her hand on mine and gripped it tightly. “I made that call anonymously. No one can know it was me, or…I could be in big trouble. I can’t afford to lose this job, Brandi.”
I tried to seem convincingly upset about her predicament. “Sure, I won’t say a word.” Except to Maya, but I wouldn’t tell anyone else unless it for some reason became pertinent to the case. If I were in her shoes and had witnessed Wonderlich lay down a beating and then narced on him to the cops, I wouldn’t want him to know, either. In a worried tone, I added, “So is it normal for there to be someone other than the cleaning crew here at night? Is it safe for four women to be here alone?”
Laura gave me an encouraging smile. “Don’t be afraid. That was the only night I’ve ever seen anyone else here. But since we only work three nights a week, who knows? If people come in on nights we’re off, I don’t know about it.” She looked at her watch in horror. “Oh, my stars! We’ve been in here nearly thirty minutes. I’ve never taken that long a break in my life!”
“Felt good, didn’t it?” I asked, grinning.
She chuckled. “Yes, it did.”
—
Unfortunately, my new friend Laura stuck to me like glue the rest of the night, which meant I had to do cleaning work instead of more investigating. I tried to get away several times, but nothing worked. And although she yammered on and on like a person who hadn’t spoken to another human being in years, she gave up nothing pertinent to the case.
When the end of the shift came, I was dead tired. I dragged myself out the door behind Maya and collapsed into her vehicle.
She said, “I spoke with Su-Lin and poked around Wonderlich’s office and the loading dock, but I came up with nothing on all counts. Su-Lin pretended not to know English, Wonderlich’s office was a filthy mess, I couldn’t get into his computer, and there was nothing around the outside loading dock but rats and rubbish. The receiving area inside was swept clean, as you saw, and in my bit of poking around in some of their storage areas, I found no suspicious items or containers lying around. If they’re dealing in contraband, they’ve gotten rid of their latest haul.”
I yawned noisily, fighting to stay awake.
“Am I boring you?” she asked.
“No, I’m beat. I decided to make nice with Laura, and then she wouldn’t let me out of her sight. I had to do actual work, and she talked my ear off.”
“Well, did your new work wife give you any leads on our case?”
I made a face at Maya. “I found out she was the one who called the cops to bust Wonderlich for assault. She saw what happened, but evidently he didn’t see her.”
She nodded slowly. “Then she might have also seen some of Wonderlich’s shady business associates and be able to ID them.”
“Which doesn’t do us a damn bit of good if we have no suspects,” I griped.
“My, someone’s grouchy when she doesn’t get her beauty sleep.”
“So I’ve been told.”
—
Figuring I’d crash after my all-nighter, I’d already made my morning staff aware I wouldn’t be at the coffeehouse until at least noon. I certainly made up for missing two nights of sleep, because I didn’t wake up and go into work until after five. Pete even beat me there and was already behind the counter covering for Shane.
When I joined him behind the counter, he sang, “ ‘Hey, Juliet, I think you’re fine. You really blow my mind.’ ”
I smiled, putting on an apron. “Back at ya. How was you
r day?”
“Same old. Auto-Tuned the crap out of an up-and-coming starlet who should be able to match pitch by this point in her career.”
“Is she the total package otherwise? Pretty? Big hair? Big boobs?”
“Yep.”
I laughed. “That’s why Auto-Tune was invented, dummy.”
He regarded me for a moment. “You know, you have all those qualities, plus you don’t need Auto-Tune. Why am I not spending my days recording your songs?”
“Um, because no one ever gave me a recording contract?”
“No, because you gave up on your singing career before you even got started.”
I groaned. “I walked right into that one. New subject, please.”
Pete motioned for me to follow him to the office. Once we were inside, he said, “I did a little PI work of my own today.”
“Really?”
“I used my industry contacts to get in touch with Brock Flint’s former publicist. She’s meeting us here later to give us some insider info on the disastrous album release party Leonidas threw for him.” He was trying so hard to be nonchalant, but he couldn’t contain how proud he was of himself.
That aside, I was seriously impressed with his work. “Nice! How did you manage that?”
“I told her I’d stay late one night next week to give one of her picky clients some extra time in the studio after hours. And understand this is me taking one for the team—the guy’s voice makes my ears bleed on a good day.” Pete was such a musical snob sometimes, but his taste was impeccable. He could tell you if a song was going to be a hit after listening to it one time, and he was hardly ever wrong.
Stifling a chuckle, I said, “Ooh. Thanks for that, then.”
—
We went about our work until around eight, when Pete’s publicist friend came in. She looked pretty much how I’d expected—young, hip, and eager, with her face buried in her phone.
The three of us sat down at a table together. Pete said, “Jules, this is Meegan Dennis. Meegan, this is Juliet Langley.”
Brew or Die Page 9
