Death, Taxes, and Sweet Potato Fries

by Diane Kelly

  Holy guacamole.

  Ellington Nurseries was owned by Brett Ellington, a successful landscape architect to whom I’d once given my heart, along with occasional other body parts. He was the guy I’d mentioned earlier, the twenty-first-century Prince Charming. I’d once thought Brett could be the one, but then Nick came along …

  Though our breakup had been mutual and amicable, I wasn’t particularly interested in seeing Brett again. The one time we’d run into each other since had been awkward. Nick had been working an undercover narcotics case with Christina Marquez, my good friend from the Drug Enforcement Administration. Feeling lonely, I’d decided to treat myself to a nice dinner at one of my favorite restaurants. Unfortunately, Brett had been there with his new girlfriend, Fiona. He’d come over to say hello when Fiona left their table, and explained that the two had gotten engaged and were expecting a baby. He certainly hadn’t wasted any time, had he? The fact that he’d moved on so quickly made me wonder whether what we’d shared had truly been as meaningful and special as I’d thought. While I wished both Brett and Fiona all the best, seeing someone you used to date is always awkward. You can’t help but picture them naked and remember all of the secrets they’d told you, and you knew they were having the same thoughts about you. It made you feel exposed.

  But just because one of the Julios worked for Brett didn’t mean I had to pursue that avenue, right? If the other Julios could give me the information needed to help Castaneda nail Hidalgo and locate the missing girls, there’d be no need for me to venture out to Ellington Nurseries. I mentally crossed my fingers that would be the case.

  I continued on with my searches. One of the women named Camila popped up on a household employer tax form filed by Trent and Kendall Oswalt. Judging from the hoity-toity address in the Bent Tree neighborhood as well as the seven-figure income reported on the couple’s tax return, I surmised “Camila” worked as either a live-in housekeeper or a nanny for the wealthy family.

  Unfortunately, the three tax reports were the only ones with addresses within reasonable driving distance of the office, other than several others issued by Ellington Nurseries. In addition to Julio Guzmán, Brett also employed workers going by the assumed identities of a Pablo Perez, a Miguel Gallegos, and a Diego Robles. Digging a little deeper, I could see that all four men who worked for Brett had started at the same time, their first withholding paid in November two years earlier. If I had to hazard a guess, the men had entered the United States together, or had known each other back wherever they’d come from. Maybe both. Perhaps they were even related, brothers or cousins, maybe.

  I’d certainly do whatever it took to help those poor girls, but I’d visit Brett’s business only as a last resort, if the other leads didn’t pan out. It was a logical plan. After all, Brett’s nursery was farther from the office than the other employers. But I had to admit that part of the reason for my hesitation was that seeing him might be a little awkward and uncomfortable. What’s more, Nick was sure to get upset. Nick had many good qualities. He was generous, down-to-earth, and hardworking. But he tended toward excessive possessiveness and jealousy where I was concerned. Absolutely unnecessary, because my heart fully belonged to him, but his knowing that Brett and I had shared an intimate relationship didn’t help matters. When Nick thought of Brett, he, too, probably pictured Brett and me rolling around naked. Besides, the four men who worked for Brett might stick together and refuse to speak to me. Strength in numbers. A lone undocumented migrant would probably feel more defenseless and be more likely to give in to my requests for information.

  Knowing Agent Castaneda was still in the air on his flight back to Big Bend, I shot him a quick e-mail to update him on what I’d found. Several people working under the subject names and social security numbers are in the Dallas area. Off to speak with them.

  I stood and was sliding the documentation into my briefcase when the Lobo trotted into my office.

  “Got another one for ya.” She held the file out to me. “One of the victims has raised a big stink, got his congressman involved. Make it a priority.”

  “You tell me to make all my cases a priority,” I replied, taking the file from her. “How am I supposed to do that? There are only so many hours in a day.”

  She narrowed her eyes, her false eyelashes coming together to form a thick line of fringe. “Are you talking back to your boss?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m asking a real question.” I gestured to the stack of files on my desk. “Every one of those files is urgent, too. I feel like I’m in over my head.” How the heck was I supposed to find time and energy to plan a wedding with all of this work to do?

  Lu scowled for a moment before her face softened. “Sorry, Tara. I’d love to offer you a solution, but all I can offer right now is encouragement.” She raised her arms as if shaking pom-poms, the flabby flesh underneath her arms jiggling with the movement. “Go, Tara! Go!”

  “No cartwheel?” I teased.

  “Cartwheel?” She lowered her arms. “You trying to kill me?”

  I sat down to take a quick look at the file. “I take it there’s still been no word on hiring more agents?” Lu had a perpetual request in with those up the chain to expand the department. Unfortunately, the powers that be had repeatedly said there wasn’t room in the budget for more agents. They treated us like taffy, stretching us so far we threatened to snap.

  “No,” she said. “No new agents. But on a bright note, they just approved Eddie and Nick serving as co-directors of Criminal Investigations.”

  I bolted upright in my seat. “That’s fantastic!”

  Lu planned to retire soon, and had first offered her position to Eddie Bardin, my training partner and the most senior agent in the office. When Eddie hadn’t jumped on the opportunity, she’d offered the job to the second highest-ranking agent, which was Nick. Like Eddie, Nick hadn’t been entirely convinced he wanted the job. While it came with higher pay and a much nicer office, it also came with a lot of headaches and red tape and tied the person in the position to their desk. Besides, despite the heavy workloads and personal risks that came with working as a special agent, the job got us out of the office and the work was interesting and challenging. For all the jokes people make about accountants and their dull work, financial sleuthing was actually a lot of fun, exciting, and even dangerous on occasion. Neither Eddie nor Nick was ready to turn his back entirely on fieldwork.

  I stood from my desk. “Have you told Nick yet?”

  The Lobo shook her head. “I peeked in his office on my way in here, but he was on his phone. You’re the first to know.”

  “This is big news. We should round everyone up to tell them all at once.”

  I jumped on my phone and buzzed each agent in the office. Fortunately, all of them were in. “Come to my office,” I told them. “Lu’s got some important news to share.”

  A glance across the hall told me Nick was now off his phone. “Nick!” I waved him over. “Lu’s got something to tell us.”

  He stood and moseyed over, leading a virtual parade of special agents as the others stepped in after him. Josh Schmidt, the geeky office tech guru, with his boyish blond curls, baby blue eyes, and standard blue button-down. Hana Kim, a Korean-American agent with straight black hair, a direct demeanor, and an athletic build that made her one of the best players on the IRS softball team. William Dorsey, a relatively new addition to the criminal investigation team, having worked his way up through the collections department. Senior Special Agent Eddie Bardin, who, like Will, was dark skinned and determined but, like me, was at the smart-ass end of the personality spectrum. With so many people in my office, we were surely violating the fire code. Everyone looked expectantly at Lu.

  “Agents,” Lu said, taking Eddie and Nick by the wrists and raising their arms as if they were prizefighters who’d just won a bout. “Let’s hear a big round of applause for the new co-directors of Dallas Criminal Investigations!”

  The room erupted in excitement and applau
se, as well as a loud whistle, the latter coming from me. Twee-eet! High fives were exchanged all around. Slap-slap-slap.

  Lu released their arms and looked from Eddie to Nick. “I suppose the two of you will have to draw straws to see who gets my office.”

  Nick put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “You can have it, bro. I happen to like the view from the office I’ve got now.” He shot me a wink. Sitting directly across the hall from him, I was his view.

  Eddie turned to the Lobo. “When does this go into effect?”

  “August first,” Lu replied. “That gives me a month to get you boys up to speed.”

  This announcement marked the beginning of a new era and, while I was glad to see Eddie’s and Nick’s careers advance to the next level, I also knew things would be very different without Lu. I’d miss her barking orders, her colorful sixties-era outfits, her surprising moments of vulnerability when her facade of toughness fell and she showed just how much she cared about those who worked under her.

  Melancholy tears pricked at my eyes. “We’re going to miss the heck out of you, Lu.”

  The others murmured in agreement.

  Lu’s blue-lidded eyes met mine and misted up, too. “Don’t get me started!” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “If I cry my eyelashes will fall off.” She fanned her eyes with another file to dry them.

  I stepped over and enveloped her in a big hug that broke all sorts of protocols on physical interactions and maintaining a professional distance in the office. She hugged me back, but when she released me she wiped her eyes and gave me a soft whack on the back with the file. “For now, I’m still the boss. I want all of you to chip in and help Tara. She’s got two urgent cases and needs some help. Got it?”

  The agents murmured their assent.

  “Great,” Lu said. “Get back to work, everyone!”

  chapter six

  Winners and Losers

  Josh, Will, and Hana made their exits, but as Eddie turned to the door, Nick stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. “Got a second, Eddie? There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

  Though Nick and I hadn’t directly discussed the matter, I had a feeling I knew what was coming. Before I’d come along to the IRS, Nick and Eddie had partnered on several cases. When Nick returned from Mexico, they’d handled a couple of big ones together. As the most senior agents in the office, they’d essentially grown up here together, career-wise. And it was clear that, despite their superficial differences in dress and musical tastes, they shared a mutual respect and the admirable traits of dedication and determination. Plus, Nick knew Eddie meant a lot to me. When nobody else would step up to train the scrawny rookie, Eddie had offered to take me on. Eddie and I had been through a lot together, too. Shootings. Explosions. Various other near-death experiences. Nothing like almost dying with someone to make you appreciate having him or her in your life.

  Eddie seemed to know what was coming and broke into a wide grin. “Sure, Nick. I’ll be your best man.”

  Nick chuckled. “I was going to ask to borrow a hundred bucks,” he teased, “but best man works, too.”

  Eddie gave Nick’s shoulder a jab, a sign of manly affection. “You know you wouldn’t have it any other way. Neither would I.”

  I chimed in now. “Me, neither. You do realize we’re going with powder blue tuxedos with ruffled shirts?”

  Eddie took my joke in stride. “Sounds good to me. I’ll look like one of the Temptations from back in the day.” He turned sideways and swayed front to back, snapping his fingers and launching into an off-key rendition of “My Girl.” He continued singing as he left my office, the strains drifting down the hall behind him.

  After my coworkers vacated my office, I sat back down to take a quick glance at the thick file Lu had just brought to me. A thick stack of documentation was contained therein. The top page was official correspondence from the office of Ernest Perkins, a United States senator from Texas who’d been known to use his position to further the special interests of his biggest donors. Among “Ernie’s Perks” was a multi-million-dollar flood control project awarded to a cement company owned by a major contributor.

  The senator’s letter demanded we take quick action to assist a constituent named Thomas Hoffmeyer who’d complained that the IRS had sent him an erroneous bill for over $250,000. I rolled my eyes. Senator Perkins had voted against more funding for the IRS. If he wanted us to do our jobs quicker, he needed to fund more staff rather than spending Uncle Sam’s money to line the pockets of his supporters.

  Underneath the senator’s letter were copies of 1099-MISC forms reporting large amounts of alleged prize winnings to more than a dozen people, five of whom lived in the Dallas area. The amounts ranged from a low of $100,000 to a high of $3 million. The payments were purportedly made by Winning Tickets Corporation, which was based in Kalamazoo, Michigan. However, when the auditor had contacted the payees, everyone said they were not aware of winning any prize. The auditor later spoke with the chief financial officer at Winning Tickets, who’d informed her that, while the company had contracts with various states to print scratch-off lottery tickets, the company itself paid no prizes. They had not issued the bogus 1099s, and had no idea who might have done so.

  Hmm. What an odd situation. Had someone been asleep at the proverbial wheel and issued the payments in error? Maybe made some typos? Had a programming glitch in computer software caused these incorrect 1099s to be issued?

  Given more time, the auditor could have answered these questions. But when the letter from the senator’s office arrived, the head of the audit department had apparently determined the better option would be to take the heat off his department and punt the case over to Criminal Investigations. Yep, the buck stops here.

  My first action was to call Senator Perkins’s office. Of course, I didn’t expect to speak directly to Perky Ernie. A rank-and-file government agent like me would warrant only an aide. “Hello,” I said to the youngish male voice who answered the phone. “This is Special Agent Tara Holloway with the IRS. I just wanted to let the senator know I’ve been assigned the Thomas Hoffmeyer case and will be getting on it as soon as possible.”

  “Hoffmeyer?” the guy repeated. “Hold a moment please.”

  The hold music was a version of “God Bless America” sung by a woman with a shrill trill that made my eyeballs vibrate. Fortunately, another male voice came on the line before my retinas exploded.

  “Agent Holloway,” said the man. “Senator Perkins here.”

  Wow, I’d been transferred right to the top. If that didn’t put the special in special agent, I didn’t know what did. “Good morning, sir.”

  “My man tells me you’re working the Hoffmeyer complaint. I trust you’ll be getting right on that.”

  “I certainly will,” I replied. “As soon as I resolve a more pressing matter.”

  He scoffed. “What’s more pressing than a personal request from a sitting U.S. senator?”

  “Three girls have been kidnapped,” I explained. “Rescuing them depends on me tracking down recent immigrants who might have knowledge about their suspected kidnapper and their whereabouts.”

  “Are the girls immigrants, too?” he asked.

  My blood began to warm. How about a little sympathy here? Some empathy for their plight? “Yes. The girls are immigrants.”

  “Legal immigrants?”

  My hemoglobin was simmering now. “What does that matter?” I said. “Their lives are at stake either way.” Seriously? This guy could turn his back on three young women in danger?

  When he spoke again, his words bore a haughty tone that said he considered me too stupid to live. “It matters, Agent Holloway, because illegal aliens are not my constituents. My duty and yours is to the American people. I expect you to fulfill that duty.”

  I’d never been more glad I hadn’t voted for the jerk in the last election. “I’m curious, senator,” I snapped, my blood on full boil now. “How much did Thomas Hoffmeyer donate to your cam
paign?”

  “That’s beside the point!” he snapped back.

  “Is it?”

  While the senator ranted about my insubordinate tone and disrespectful behavior, I crossed my fingers that I hadn’t just gotten myself fired and ran a quick search on my computer. Campaign contributions were a matter of public record. Sure enough, Thomas Hoffmeyer had not only donated the maximum legal amount to Senator Perkins’s campaign, but he had also supported a number of political action committees and super PACs with known ties to the senator.

  “And furthermore—”

  “Sorry,” I lied. “Getting another call. I’ll be in touch later. Gotta go.” With that, I hung up on the man and dialed Eddie’s office.

  He answered with a casual “Yeah?”

  “Got some time to accompany me in the field?” I figured I’d better be ready with backup in case Julio Número Uno attempted to flee when I approached him for information. Two agents would have a better chance of catching him than one.

  “Sure,” he said. “Give me twenty minutes to wrap something up and I’ll come down.”

  I was gathering up the paperwork when Lu stuck her head in the door. “Senator Perkins just called. He said you hung up on him.”

  I bit my lip and grimaced. “Any chance you would believe it was an accident?”

  “No,” she said, “and it wasn’t an accident when I hung up on him, either. But what’s he going to do, fire me? I’ve already tendered my resignation.”

  Lu’s unwavering trust and support was among the many reasons her agents adored her.

  “I’m on my way out of government service,” she said, pointing a finger at me. “But this agency needs you. Let me take any heat, okay? If you need to communicate with the senator’s office, let me handle it.”

  I gave her a salute. “Aye-aye, captain.”