Deceptive Practices

by Simon Wood

Finz sat down and opened up the file he’d brought with him. “I’ve been through your husband’s financials, and I didn’t see anything unusual there, but I saw a couple of things in yours that confused me. There’s a check for three thousand dollars cashed by a Miles Gault two weeks ago, a thousand-dollar check to your sister, and a two-thousand-dollar cash withdrawal made a few days later. Can you explain those?”

  She’d forgotten the check she’d written to the loan shark. It was unrelated, but it looked bad. What made matters worse was she couldn’t imagine Gault being too forthcoming about his reason for taking the money.

  “Sorry, this is a little embarrassing to admit,” she said. “They’re all related to my sister. I support her financially when things get tough. I gave her the two thousand in cash, and the checks covered some personal debts she owed.”

  Finz nodded his understanding. “We can choose our friends, but not our family, right?”

  “No, we can’t. Can I ask how things are going?”

  “We’re still piecing together your husband’s last movements. It looks as if he received a call that lured him out to the spot where he was killed. Oddly, the reason he went out there was you.”

  Finz’s gotcha remark caught her across the jaw. She opened and closed her mouth dumbly, searching for an answer. “What do you mean?”

  “A witness was with your husband at the time of the call. He told this person the call was from you.”

  There was only one person who would have been with him—his tramp, Cassie Hill. “Who?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. Did you call your husband the night he was killed?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. I believe you were used as the lure.”

  It was a shitty trick, but it sounded like an Infidelity Limited tactic. “That’s horrible.”

  “It is. Quite insidious. Unfortunately, the phone number tracks back to a burner, which doesn’t help us. However, it does change things. At first glance, your husband’s murder looked like a senseless killing. The fact he was lured to his death changes my theory. Your husband’s death was planned. What I don’t have is a reason—yet. So if there’s anything you can think of that would explain why someone would want Richard dead, it would be useful. I’m convinced there’s something in his background that got him killed. Any ideas?”

  Olivia shook her head. She was frightened that if she spoke, her voice would crack and give her away.

  “No matter. I’m actually buoyed by this. These details are helping me piece together the kind of killer I’m dealing with.”

  This development didn’t buoy her. His step forward was a step back for her.

  There was a knock, and Rivera appeared in the doorway. He smiled at Olivia before turning his attention to Finz. “Got a minute, Mike?”

  Finz excused himself, leaving Olivia alone. She didn’t like that they were discussing her polygraph without her, but she needed Finz out of the room so she could calm down. Seeing him find direction in his investigation was frightening. She thought she’d have more time to pull apart Infidelity Limited’s threads. She had to make things happen faster now.

  The door reopened, and Finz filled the doorway, with Rivera behind.

  “How did I do?”

  “Okay, I’ve reviewed the feed from the test,” Rivera said, “and the result is NDI—no deception indicated.”

  “Great. So what happens now?” Olivia asked.

  “I continue with the investigation,” Finz said. “Thank you, Mrs. Shaw. I’ll see you out.”

  Andrew was waiting for Olivia in reception. He jumped up from his seat as soon as she appeared. Finz looked a little confused to find Andrew waiting for her.

  “All done?” Andrew asked.

  “Yes, we are,” Finz said. He put his hand out to Andrew. “And you are?”

  Andrew shook Finz’s hand, then Rivera’s. “Andrew Macready. I’m a friend of Olivia’s.”

  “Andrew’s an old friend from high school,” Olivia said.

  “That’s great, Mrs. Shaw,” Finz said. “Thanks for coming in. This has been very helpful. I’ll be in touch.”

  Olivia felt the heat of Finz’s stare on her back as she and Andrew left the building. She hadn’t made any mistakes during the test, but she still felt Finz’s distrust. She’d hoped the polygraph would give her some breathing space to unmask Infidelity Limited, but it didn’t seem to have worked. She couldn’t tell if it was part of the standard operating procedure to always suspect the spouse until an arrest had been made or whether he was homing in on her. The affair question had scared her. He knew something he wasn’t telling. Either way, it didn’t look as if the polygraph had exonerated her.

  “How’d it go?” Andrew asked when they got to the street.

  “I passed. Let’s get out of here.”

  Finz and Rivera watched Olivia leave with Andrew.

  “Why did you want me to tell her she had passed the poly?” Rivera asked. “It was inconclusive at best.”

  “I don’t want Mrs. Shaw on the defensive. If she thinks she’s in the clear, then she’s likely to be less cautious about her activities. One of the checks Olivia had written was to Miles Gault. His primary business is loan-sharking, but he’s not averse to other forms of revenue.”

  Madeleine Lyon emerged from a doorway and stopped next to Finz. She followed his gaze. “Who’s that with Mrs. Shaw?”

  “A friend,” Finz said.

  “Wow, that was fast. I didn’t think she was the type.”

  Neither did Finz. The big question was, had Olivia found a new man to replace her dead husband, or had this guy been waiting in the wings all along? Maybe Richard Shaw wasn’t the only one being unfaithful.

  “This one is going weird on us,” Rivera said.

  “We want weird. I’ve got more weird for you,” Lyon said. “The background check just threw up the fun fact that Olivia Shaw was previously married, and her first husband, Mark Renko, also died.”

  “Suspicious death?” Finz asked.

  “No, DUI. Wrapped his car around a tree, but it makes you wonder now. We could have a black widow on our hands.”

  Finz didn’t believe this potential black widow did her own killing. The coroner had determined that the force of the blows rained down on Richard Shaw were beyond that of a small woman’s capability. However, Andrew Macready appeared to be a powerful man.

  Finz returned to his desk, and Lyon parked herself on the corner of it while he ran Andrew Macready through the system. The guy didn’t have a criminal history or any outstanding warrants. Even his DMV record came back clean. Finz logged into CLEAR, a public information database that gave him everything from property records to wage garnishments. It would take him hours to digest it all. At first glance, the report didn’t bring up anything hinky, but it did provide one interesting tidbit. He tapped the screen for Lyon to see.

  “So Olivia’s man friend is ex-army,” she said. “He would know how to handle himself in a fight.”

  “The insurance investigator contacted you, didn’t he?”

  “Yep.”

  “Tell him to stall on the insurance payout. Houston, we have a problem.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Clare lit up a cigarette the moment she was outside the Target store. It had been a crappy shift. Normally, the day shift wasn’t too bad. The evening and weekend shifts were the worst, guaranteed to have the highest density of assholes per hour, but someone somewhere decided it was pain-in-the-ass-customer day. She sucked in all the toxins the cigarette could provide and blew out a cloud of cleansing smoke, sending with it all the day’s stress.

  Maybe the customers weren’t all to blame. She’d carried a lot of baggage into work today. Gault had called her three times, demanding his money. That was a good indicator of the lack of faith he had in her ability to pay him back. Olivia was the bigger issue. Threatening to turn her in had been a mistake. She knew it as soon as she’d said it, but she’d been angry about losing at the table
s, for getting in hock to Gault just as she’d gotten free of his clutches, and at Olivia for cornering her with Andrew. Andrew? What the hell was she involving him for?

  Clare knew why. Her sister had lost faith in her. Clare couldn’t fault her. Even now, she wasn’t sure if she would go to the cops. Who knew where this shit with Infidelity Limited would end up? There were no guarantees.

  She’d decided to make it up to Olivia by tracking down Maxine Groves for her. It hadn’t been easy. The number she had for her was dead. It took a bunch of calls among the gambling fraternity to track her down, although no one had seen her at the tables in years. All she’d gotten was a cell phone number. She’d called it during her break and left a message asking to meet up with Maxine.

  Trudging across the parking lot to her car, she scanned her phone for a reply. Another voice mail from Gault. There was no voice mail from Maxine, but there was a single-word text: No.

  “Shit.”

  She dialed the number. The call went to voice mail. She redialed. Again, the call went to voice mail.

  “Maxine, we need to talk. If you don’t call me, I’m just going to turn up on your doorstep. And I will. I know where you live,” she said and hung up.

  She didn’t know where Maxine lived, but she hoped the threat would carry weight. And it did. By the time she’d reached her car, Maxine was calling.

  She slid behind the wheel and answered the call.

  “Why are you calling me?” Maxine growled down the phone line.

  Clare took a quick drag on her cigarette and cracked the window to let the smoke out. “There’s no need to be scared. Nothing’s wrong. It’s important though.”

  “Important to you, but not to me. We’re done with each other.”

  Clare saw this call was going nowhere fast. There was no incentive for Maxine to cooperate. It was time for some emotional blackmail. “Look, Maxine, I have the right to say that—not you. I came to you, looking for help, and you screwed me. You put me in a bigger predicament than I was in in the first place. So if you need me to dress it up in some fancy language, I will—you fucking owe me.”

  Silence came from Maxine’s end of the phone line, but no dial tone.

  “My sister just wants to talk to you.”

  “Your sister?”

  This was where Clare lost the moral high ground. “My sister is involved with—”

  “Don’t say their name.”

  “She’s involved, and she’s looking for a way out.”

  Maxine barked a derisive laugh. “Good luck with that.”

  “Yeah, right. Well, she needs someone to tell her the facts of life.”

  “How the hell did you let your sister get mixed up with them after what you went through?”

  Clare heard Maxine bite off her next sentence. A long pause followed. She was putting two and two together. Clare took a quick drag on her cigarette for courage before the recriminations hit.

  “You sold your sister out to them, didn’t you?”

  “The same way you did to me.”

  “Ha. At least I didn’t do it to my own family. Jesus Christ, Clare.”

  She didn’t need to feel any more like a shit than she already did. “Will you talk to her?”

  Maxine sighed. “Yes. Saturday work for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “My place. You know where?”

  “No.”

  “You bitch. I knew you were bluffing.”

  Clare thought she heard admiration in Maxine’s voice and smiled.

  “I’ll text you when and where on Saturday. Don’t make me regret this, Clare.”

  “I won’t,” Clare said, but Maxine had already hung up.

  She finished up her cigarette and tossed the butt out the window. Driving home, she felt good about herself for once. She was doing something for Olivia. Hopefully, it would repair some of the damage she’d done with her weak-ass attempt to extort money out of her sister.

  When she reached the freeway, she called Olivia.

  “Yes.” Her sister’s greeting couldn’t be any more clipped.

  “I spoke to Maxine Groves. She’ll meet us on Saturday.”

  “Good. Thanks.”

  “Look, I’m sorry about the other night. I was a little desperate.”

  Olivia said nothing.

  “It’s just that money’s a problem. I need it, and I don’t have it. It gets to you, y’know?”

  “Are you asking me for more money?”

  She was. She always was. “I just need a couple grand.”

  “You pissed it away at the casino again, didn’t you? Clare, you’re a piece of work. I’ll see you Saturday,” Olivia said and hung up.

  Clare guessed she deserved that. She’d give it a couple of days and try again. Olivia would come around. She always did.

  She arrived home to find the door to her mobile home swinging open. She stopped the Honda under the carport and jumped out.

  “No, no, no,” she murmured as she ran up to the door.

  The place had been ransacked. Cupboards opened. Sofa and chairs overturned. The bed flipped over. The closet door in the bedroom was off its track. Nothing seemed to have been taken, other than her TV in the living room. She surveyed the latest shit sandwich to be served up to her.

  “What a mess, Clare.”

  The voice came from the doorway. She spun around to find Roy standing in the middle of it. One way in. No way out. The sight of him after all these years sent a ripple of fear through her. She took a reflexive step backward, struck the overturned lounger, and fell over.

  He rushed over to her and swiftly pulled her to her feet. “Careful there.” He went about flipping the sofa and lounger over and righting the furniture. “Yeah, some big guy in a pickup came by and busted the door open with a crowbar about an hour ago.”

  That had to have been Gault. It looked like he didn’t want to wait for his money.

  “He walked off with the flat screen, but I think he was looking for more, judging by all the bitching he was doing.”

  Normally, she kept a secret bankroll of a few hundred bucks in the mobile home, but this time she really was tapped out.

  “Why didn’t you do anything to stop him?”

  Roy put a side table back on its feet, then turned to face her. “Not really my place. I’ll tell you one thing. Your neighbors didn’t do much either, other than watch, that is. You really need to move someplace with a greater sense of civic duty.”

  “Yeah, well . . .”

  “I’m guessing it was over money, right? It was always money problems with you, Clare, if memory serves.”

  He dropped onto the sofa. It flexed under his weight.

  She had a clear run at the doorway now. He’d never reach her in time, but how far would she get? As far as the trailer-park entrance? Possibly. But if she wanted to outrun Roy and Infidelity Limited, she needed a longer head start.

  “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other,” Roy said. “You look good. You haven’t changed much.”

  Flattery would get him nowhere. She knew how she looked. Every year put two on her face and body. She still had some looks, but they would have been so much more if she had been able to catch a break.

  “Got a drink, Clare?”

  “Coffee?”

  He smiled and screwed up his face. “Something stronger.”

  She pulled the vodka from the fridge and two glasses from the drainer. She handed Roy his.

  “Have a seat. We need to talk.”

  She settled into the lounger across from Roy. Her gaze went to the open door and possible escape.

  “Shall I close the door, Clare? We don’t really need people listening in.” He crossed the room and managed to close the buckled door. She said good-bye to her freedom.

  “What do we have to talk about?”

  “Olivia, naturally,” he said, returning to his seat.

  “Hey, you told me I had to find someone to clear my debt to you guys. I did that.”
>
  He raised his hands. “Whoa. I know. I know. Slow your roll. I’m just checking in with you about her.”

  “The first rule of Infidelity Limited is you don’t talk about Infidelity Limited.”

  Roy cocked his head and smiled. “Clare, don’t tell me you haven’t talked. The code of silence only goes so far when family is involved.”

  Is this a test? she wondered. She couldn’t tell with Roy. Everything was geared to make sure when the shit hit the fan, it landed nowhere near him. She glanced over at him. His smile did nothing to mask the coldness in his eyes. She could lie to him, but he’d see through it. He knew his clientele too well. “We’ve talked.”

  “Like I say, only natural. How’s she doing?”

  Clare snorted. “How do you think? You did kill her husband, after all.”

  “I bet you’re not so popular with her either.”

  “You got that right,” she said and fired back the vodka. Since Richard’s murder, she’d been thinking about Nick. Roy had told her Nick was dead. She hadn’t believed it. Didn’t want to believe it, truth be told. He hadn’t been killed. He’d just taken off. It wasn’t like he’d ever turned up dead. It was easier to live with the deception. But Richard was dead. That meant Nick was dead too.

  “So what have you and Olivia talked about?”

  “Whether you’re for real. Whether you really mean what you say. Whether she can trust you.”

  “And what have you told her?”

  “That none of it matters. That she should just do as you tell her and she’ll be fine.”

  “That’s good advice. Thank you for that.”

  It was the least she could do, seeing as she’d screwed her sister over.

  “How much of her situation do you know?”

  “Not much, but from experience, I can guess. Her husband is dead, courtesy of Infidelity Limited, so now things are moving to the next stage, where you’re putting it to her.”

  “So you know I’ve told her she has to kill for me—and please don’t lie to me. I can tell.”

  She was hiding more damning information. It was best she gave him this one. “I know.”

  “Is she going to go through with it?”

  “Does she have a choice?”