Ring of Lies

by Howard, Victoria

‘But surely you can recall what he looked like?’

  ‘He was short. I remember, because I didn’t have to look up to him. And smartly dressed.’

  ‘You mean he wore a suit?’

  ‘Yes, I could see the collar of the jacket under his overcoat. His clothes were well cut, as if they’d been made-to-measure rather than purchased from a chain store.’

  ‘Okay, but what about his build? Was he average for his height, thin or heavily built?’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘Try!’

  Grace’s hands twisted in her lap and she began to shake as the image focused in her memory. ‘S-stocky, like a boxer.’

  ‘Now, this is important, Grace. Can you recall what colour his eyes and hair were?’

  ‘He wore a hat, so I couldn’t see his hair.’

  ‘Anything else? Any distinguishing features? A scar on his face perhaps?’

  ‘It was raining and we sheltered under the lych-gate. I couldn’t see his face that well in the gloom. His eyes…I’m not certain, but I think they were brown.’

  ‘What about his voice, Grace? Was he English or did he speak with an accent?’

  ‘I…I’m not sure.’

  ‘Come on, you must remember. The man threatened you.’

  ‘Stop bullying me. I’ve told you all I know!’ She cradled her head in her trembling hands.

  Jack reached out and patted her shoulder. ‘Take it easy, Grace. Mike’s only trying to help.’

  ‘A limp, he walked with a limp. He was strong, very strong.’ Absentmindedly she rubbed her forearm. ‘And he had this odd habit of licking his lips at the end of every sentence.’

  ‘It’s not much to go on,’ said Mike. ‘I’ll get one of the guys to run it through the computer. Do you have a photograph of your husband?’

  Grace took her wallet out of her purse, and removed a snapshot. ‘It was taken a couple of years ago.’

  Mike picked up the bank statements and flicked through them. ‘Grace, I’m going to hold on to these, along with the photograph.’ When she started to object, he held up his hand. ‘Jack will give you a receipt and we’ll get you some photocopies. I’m going to assign one of our forensic accountants to take a closer a look at the listed transactions, see if we can track the deposits and find out where the money originated.’

  ‘What about Cody, are you going to pull him in for questioning?’ Jack asked.

  Mike flicked an imaginary speck of lint off his shoulder. ‘I don’t see much point at present. We’ll keep him and the bank under surveillance. See if anyone tries to access the account. Jack, hate to do this, but your vacation just ended. I want you to pay a visit to the house on Gasparilla Island.’

  ‘You’re not going without me,’ Grace said, surprised at her own bravery.

  ‘No, not without you. Jack, you take Mrs. Elliott with you. See if you can find out what her husband did to while away the lonely hours when he was there. Now Grace, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with Jack in private.’

  Starchily, Grace stood and strode out of the room. When the door closed behind her, Mike turned to Jack.

  ‘She seems innocent. What do you think?’

  ‘She is. Daniel Elliott dominated his wife. He paid all the bills, and gave her a monthly housekeeping allowance to cover food and clothes. He didn’t tell her anything about what money he had or how he spent it. If she asked too many questions he verbally abused her and undermined her confidence.’

  ‘And she stayed with him?’

  ‘Grace had a strict upbringing and she married young. Her father was a minister, so divorce was never an option for her. I wouldn’t say she’s entirely naïve, but whatever Elliott told her, she believed.’

  ‘She sounds totally gullible to me.’

  ‘I like to think there’s some fight in her.’

  ‘Now, Jack,’ Mike counselled. ‘You aren’t developing some feelings for the pretty widow, are you?’

  Jack kept his face impassive and hoped he sounded convincing. He knew what happened to agents who had a relationship with their informants—they were either fired or despatched to some backwater to end their career in obscurity.

  ‘Me? Oh, hell, no. You know me.’

  ‘I do. That’s why I’m asking you.’

  ‘The answer is no, Mike. Really.’

  ‘Okay,’ Zupanik sighed. ‘So this lady’s husband was a control freak who kept secrets. Accountants can access a lot of financial information. But he wasn’t siphoning money from his clients’ accounts or the British Tax authorities would have picked up on that, most likely.’

  ‘Most likely.’

  ‘Which means, Jack, the money had to be coming from other sources. You know what I’m getting at.’

  ‘That’s my thinking, too. Elliott had a second passport in the name of Lionel Lattide.’ Jack handed it to his boss, along with the piece of paper Grace had found in Elliott’s briefcase. ‘He used it whenever he flew between here and London.’

  ‘Lionel Lattide? Hmm. I’ll organize a background check on both names, and a search to see if he had any other bank accounts. I’ll also get the guys to show his photo round the hotels, see if anyone recognizes him. I don’t like it, Jack. My gut tells me this case has all the makings of a chimpanzee’s tea party.’

  Jack raised an eyebrow. ‘Another one of your quotable quotes, eh? What’s this one mean, Mike?’

  ‘It means anything can go wrong, so be careful.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mike, I will.’ Jack headed for the door.

  ‘Before you go—things any better at home?’

  Jack frowned. ‘No, and Rosa’s not going be happy when she learns I’m taking on another case. It means she’ll have to actually take care of Emilia.’

  Mike didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his face was creased with lines of worry. ‘If your personal life is going to interfere I can always assign someone else to look after the widow.’

  ‘It won’t. Grace barely trusts me. You assign another agent and she’ll fly back to London faster than you can order a pizza.’

  ‘Okay, Jack. But any problems, you let me know. I’ll ask Chrissie to drop by your apartment in a day or so to see how Rosa’s coping. Now get going before Grace starts getting agitated.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Throughout most of the two-hour drive to Gasparilla Island Grace stared out of the window. Apart from the other vehicles on the highway, there wasn’t a house or building in sight, just mile after mile of tarmac, tall sawgrass and marsh.

  ‘This place looks godforsaken.’

  ‘Not surprising. The road is known as Alligator alley,’ said Jack. ‘It runs right through the Everglades. If you look carefully, you might see one on the bank of a marsh, but the most I’ve ever seen in a bunch of egrets.’

  ‘I don’t like it.’

  ‘I don’t either. I wouldn’t recommend taking a walk in there, that’s for sure.’

  Unseasonably hot, Grace wiped her damp palms on a tissue. Even with the air conditioning on, the air inside the car was oppressive.

  ‘Have you been to the island before?’

  ‘No, but I’ve heard of it. Jed Bush, onetime Governor of our state, has a place there. It’s also famous for the Tarpon fishing tournament held each year. The town is named Boca Grande.’

  ‘What Grande?’

  ‘Boca. It means ‘mouth’. Grande means ‘big.’ It’s Spanish for ‘big mouth’ and comes from the waterway at the southern end of the island.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Grace, and continued staring out of the window. The deep orange sun slowly sank toward the horizon as Jack brought the Explorer to a halt at the tollbooth. He paid the four-dollar fee, and then drove across the swing bridge.

  ‘Sand Dollars—I wonder why Daniel chose that name.’

  ‘I think it’s rather apt.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘A Sand Dollar is type of burrowing sea urchin. The name comes from the shape and colour of the skeleton, w
hich resembles a silver dollar. They are very popular with shell collectors, but pretty hard to find, especially whole.’

  Grace frowned. ‘I still don’t understand why he chose that name.’

  ‘I think your husband was sending a message to anyone who tries to trace the money. The truth of where the money came from is buried deep, like a Sand Dollar.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Will you be able to find the house?’ Grace asked.

  ‘I memorized the zip code from the transfer deed and entered it into the Sat-Nav,’ Jack replied, as they crossed another bridge. ‘That will take us right up to the front door. The island’s only a few miles long.’

  Grace stared at the large colonial styled houses silhouetted against the setting sun. No two properties appeared the same, although most had wide verandas, and windows bordered with plantation shutters. Occasionally, she caught a glimpse of a lush hedge of pink bougainvillea, and a tropical garden filled with palms and hibiscus.

  ‘It’s not the sort of place where I’d expect someone involved in illegal activities to live. If I were a criminal, I’d choose the anonymity of a big city rather than somewhere as quiet and beautiful as this.’

  ‘It’s December. The time of year when the snowbirds come to Florida.’

  ‘Daniel wasn’t into bird watching; he didn’t even like sport unless it was—’

  Jack’s rich laughter filled the car. ‘Snowbirds are what we call affluent east coast retirees who come here to get away from the worst of the winter weather.’

  Grace chuckled. ‘Oh, I see. You mean old age pensioners or seniors as you call them. This is more like millionaire’s paradise than skid row.’

  ‘Even criminals can be snowbirds. Tell me more about Daniel. Did he have many friends?’

  ‘There’s Shaun, and the guys at the golf club. Most of the people he knew were business associates or clients. He spent his evenings in the study, although what he did in there, I have no idea.’

  ‘What about his old college buddies? Did he ever attend any class reunions?’

  ‘He lost touch with them years ago.’

  ‘Which means he met whoever is behind this scam through his accounting firm.’

  Grace turned to face him. ‘Are you suggesting Shaun or one of the junior associates is involved too?’

  ‘It’s possible. Whoever it is, has business interests on both sides of the Atlantic. Importing, exporting, that sort of thing.’

  ‘That could include anyone of the firm’s clients.’

  Jack grunted and turned off Gasparilla Road and onto Fourth Street. ‘We’re going to need a list of them.’

  ‘I’ll ask Liz, as I doubt Shaun would comply because he’d be breaching client confidentiality.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll give you a number she can fax it to. If we need more information we can always subpoena Shaun. Let’s hope Sand Dollars reveals what your late husband was up to. In the meantime, are you hungry? I spotted a restaurant back there. What do you say we go grab something to eat?’

  ‘Good idea. There won’t be any food in the house.’

  ‘It’d be interesting if there was,’ Jack murmured.

  She gave him a sidelong glance. ‘What did you say?’

  Jack kept his eyes on the road. ‘Nothing.’

  The town of Boca Grande could be summed up in two words—small and quaint. Grace counted two real estate offices, a post office and a couple of clothing stores, as well as a restaurant housed in what appeared to be an old railroad station. Down one of the side streets she spotted a sign for the island bakery. Directly outside stood a pink gas pump. Nearly everyone they passed on the road drove a golf cart rather than an expensive, gas-guzzling car.

  ‘I feel as if I’ve stepped back in time,’ Grace said, as she climbed out of the car. ‘It’s like that TV show they’re always repeating on British television—The Prisoner. I half expect a big white balloon to come rolling down the street.’

  Jack grinned, took her arm, and steered her toward the restaurant. ‘I saw the re-runs of that show on the Sci-Fi channel. The guy was a spy and continually tried to escape. Charlotte, my sister, had a crush on the star, whatever his name was. He was in Secret Agent and a couple of movies, too. Her bedroom walls were plastered with his pictures. I used to tease her until she got so mad, she’d throw shoes at me. Did I ever tell you high heels make painful weapons?’

  ‘No, you didn’t. Is that a joke?’

  ‘A very bad one, I guess.’

  Grace sighed. ‘Do you want to eat inside or out?’

  ‘Inside. Now that the sun has set, the temperature has dropped by a few degrees. It can get mighty chilly all of a sudden on islands like this.’

  They passed a party of noisy teenagers sat under one of the many umbrellas shading the tables in front and found a table in the corner of the dining room. The menu wasn’t extensive but if the number of diners crowded into the small room was anything to go by, the food was excellent.

  ‘I didn’t know you had a sister,’ Grace said after the waitress had taken their order.

  ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Charlotte’s older by eight years.’

  ‘And I’m five years older than Catherine. She was still at school when our parents died. I gave up university and took a job to support her.’

  ‘Is that where you met Daniel, at university?’

  Grace shook her head. Bronze-gold curls glistened in the glow from the overhead light. ‘No, I’d left by then and was working as a secretary for a firm of accountants when Daniel joined the company as an associate. We dated for three months before he proposed. We we’re married two months later. A year after that, Daniel and Shaun set up their own practice.’

  ‘Did you go work for them? You’d have been a natural, managing the office.’

  Grace shook her head. ‘I offered, but Daniel insisted I give up work as soon as we were married.’

  ‘That’s a shame. I can see you keeping things going.’

  Grace winced. ‘He said I wasn’t cut out for it. I don’t have the level of business acumen Daniel needs…Daniel needed.’

  Jack just let it slide. ‘Are Daniel’s parents alive? Did he have any siblings?’

  ‘His parents died before we met and he was an only child.’

  ‘What about Catherine? She’d have been what, fifteen when you and Daniel married?’

  ‘Sixteen. She’d just finished taking her GCSE’s and wanted to study for her ‘A’ levels so that she could go on to university. I didn’t have it in my heart to deny her the chance of further education. Daniel agreed to help with the fees if she studied hard and got the necessary grades.’

  ‘I hope she appreciates all you’ve done for her.’

  Grace’s smile faded. She looked away. Catherine was demanding. Rarely said ‘thank you’ no matter how small the favour, and more often than not, placed her needs above those of others.

  ‘I can’t exactly say. Catherine is—’

  ‘Selfish?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Well, it’s obvious. She’d be with you now, if she wasn’t.’

  ‘Catherine has a high profile career. She’s rarely in the office and spends most of her time on the road.’

  ‘Did she and Daniel get along?’ Jack asked, as their server approached the table with their order.

  Grace regarded him with a speculative gaze. ‘Why the sudden interest in my sister?’

  ‘I’m just trying to get a picture of Daniel’s life and that of the people around him, that’s all.’

  ‘Daniel and Catherine got along fine. He said she was the sister he’d always wanted, but never had. Once she started university she rarely came home during term time. When she graduated, she and a friend rented a flat in Clapham. Eight months ago she bought a place of her own.’

  ‘Unless things are different, property in the city is pretty expensive. How did she afford to buy an apartment?’

  ‘I—I don’t know. I’m assuming she has a mortgage like e
veryone else. Anyway, we’ve never discussed her income. It’s considered the height of rudeness and ignorance to ask someone what they earn in Britain.’

  ‘Okay, no need to go on the defensive. Eat your pasta before it gets cold.’

  Grace pushed a forkful of linguine round her plate. She no longer felt hungry. Jack’s questions about Catherine made her realize that her sister still hadn’t returned her calls. She glanced at her watch, it was too late to call now, but she’d try again in the morning, assuming there was a phone in the house.