Murder.com

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  “Melinda told me she didn't know who fathered her until a few months ago. Why didn't Bud ever tell her?"

  Marty shook her head. “I can't answer that. But he made me promise not to. He said if I did, he'd fire me. Send me packing without another dime for Melinda's upbringing. I knew it would be foolish of me to give up all the things he could provide her. So I kept my mouth shut until one night when Melinda came to the cottage. You were gone for the evening and I thought it would be safe enough. However, I'd been boozing it up and we had a fight. In my drunken stupor I blabbed and told her. After that, she took things into her own hands.” Marty covered her face with her hands. “I've discovered my little girl has a very mean, evil streak."

  Angie stared at her as a thought flashed through her mind. “Marty, didn't you have a boyfriend about that time? How can you be positive that Bud is Melinda's father?"

  Marty furrowed her brows. “I thought about that too. I'd broken up with him two months before this happened and hadn't taken on any new boyfriend. Mr. Nevers was the last man in my bed before I found myself pregnant."

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  When the two detectives arrived back at Tom's office they found John Graves chewing on the end of a pencil while still studying the books. The knot in his tie hung at mid-chest.

  “Well?” Cliff asked.

  John glanced up and raised a brow. “I've found nothing mentioning ABC Wafer Company. However, these books seem too perfect or else they've got a genius accountant."

  Cliff scratched his head. “What makes you say that?"

  “Not one mistake in addition. Of course, today's technology makes that easier. However, this company is supposedly in a growth spurt and should be making money. I mean, this script-writing thing where you can also make a printout in your own handwriting is a winner. Yet, it doesn't show in the profits. Either they've got a big storehouse somewhere full of lots of unsold stock,” he waved his hand over the desk, “or someone's fixing these books."

  Tom listened intently as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “So you think there's something unusual here?"

  “Yeah. This is not for the record. But, yeah. There's something strange going on here, but damned if I can spot it. Particularly this past year."

  “For instance?” Tom asked.

  “A big change in the ordering pattern. They ordered lots of stuff to put into their product, but I can't find the output. Yet, everything balanced. My brain tells me they're short about six hundred thousand dollars this year."

  Tom tapped his foot, his mind working. “That would fit with what Bill Crane said."

  John leaned back in his chair. “Who's Bill Crane?"

  “A young college intern that Bud hired. The kid spotted this ABC Wafer Company. He told me he'd informed Mr. Nevers that fifty thousand a month was going out to that company. Which, by the way, coincides with that figure you just quoted. So how do you figure they've hid it?"

  “Beats the hell out of me.” He pointed to one side of the book then the other. “Probably within several companies; a few thousand dollars here and a few thousand there. All the books display the same numbers. It would require a hell of a lot of time to locate the discrepancies. Probably in the beginning they used that ABC Wafer name as a dummy company, but have since figured out a more sophisticated system.” He pointed a finger at Tom. “But somewhere there are original records. And that's where you'll find that ABC Wafer Company. Some genius they have in that company has managed to change all the books and computers to read the same."

  Tom scratched his side burn, then extended his hand. “Thanks, John, you've done a great job and we appreciate the many hours you've spent here today. If we run across the originals, you'll be the first one we'll call."

  After John left, Tom looked at his partner and shook his head. Cliff let out a long sigh and took off his hat, running his fingers through his hair. “That damn back-up disk is the one we need."

  Tom paced the room, stopped in front of the window and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ken Weber is the only person who had access to Bud's computer. I think we better have a talk with him."

  Cliff slapped his thigh. “Fine. But what the hell are we going to say? That all the books matched? We'd look like fools. Pray tell where would Bud have kept a set of original records? He was obviously too smart to leave them on his computer, that is unless someone trashed them."

  Tom nodded. “You're right. Sometimes they can still find stuff on a computer that has been trashed or erased. We may have to find someone who can do that. Keep your brain engaged over the weekend and if you come up with something let me know. I'm calling it a day."

  Cliff trudged out of the office as Tom sat down at his desk. He decided to call Angie even though he didn't have any new news, but felt the necessity to keep in touch. When she answered, he detected a tinge of strain in her voice. “Everything okay?"

  “Not really, but nothing I can't handle."

  “Maybe you need a night out. How about having dinner with me?"

  A slight hesitation, then her voice sounded more cheerful. “You know that's not a bad idea. I think I'd enjoy that. When will you pick me up?"

  “Will an hour give you time?"

  “Perfect. See you then."

  Tom's spirits soared. He hoped she felt the same way.

  When he got home, he immediately called for reservations at one of the nicer restaurants and lucked out due to a cancellation. He jumped in the shower, humming.

  In exactly one hour, he knocked on Angie's door. His heart raced when she met him with sparkling eyes and a big smile.

  “I'm really glad you called, Tom. I needed a break."

  At the restaurant, before their dinner arrived, he noticed she grew quiet, her eyes darting around the room. “Something's bothering you. What is it?"

  She exhaled loudly and slumped back in the chair. “I'm trying to decide whether to talk to you about the latest occurrences, but hate burdening you with my troubles. You have enough of your own."

  He smiled slightly. “We're in this thing together. Maybe it will help with the investigation."

  “That's possible,” she said, shrugging. She sat forward and related Marty's confession about being Melinda's mother and how it had come about. When she finished, she let out a long sigh. “It doesn't seem possible this could have happened right under my nose."

  Tom observed her relaxed disposition during the story and surmised she'd sorted out the upsetting news and accepted it. “You seem to be handling the problem. Is there anything I can do?"

  She shook her head. “No. Just being my sounding board has helped."

  Their meal arrived and after the waiter left, she looked at him and smiled. “Well, I've pretty well monopolized the whole conversation. So how's the investigation going? Any new leads?"

  “I wish I had something concrete to tell you. Right now we're working on problems with the Nevers Company accounting books. Something fishy is going on within the company but the auditor can't find it. He feels that it's possible he's dealing with altered records. Whoever used the ABC Wafer Company in the beginning has since dropped that name and gotten more sophisticated in eluding the law."

  “Is that the company Bill Crane discovered and told Bud about?"

  “Yes."

  “I wish I could tell you Bud kept records at home. But I've found nothing so far."

  “He might have put them on a CD or a disk."

  “I haven't gone through everything yet.” She shook her head. “I get too emotional. But I'll check through the CDs. He has a bunch I stored in a box for the time being. I'll go through them again and examine each one carefully."

  “Would you mind if I took a look?” Tom asked cautiously.

  “Not at all. In fact, why don't you come over tonight after dinner and we'll sort through them,” she said smiling. “I'd love your company."

  The thought made his blood surge. “Great."

  Later that
evening, back at Angie's house, she and Tom sat on the floor with the box of CDs between them, taking turns sticking them into the computer and verifying the titles. After checking twenty-five, Angie stretched her arms above her head and complained of her eyes getting tired. Tom took the hint. “Why don't I take the rest home with me?"

  “Better yet, why don't you just come back tomorrow afternoon? I can help you finish."

  Guessing she didn't want the box out of her sight, Tom nodded. “Sounds good. But I don't want to interrupt your day."

  “I've nothing planned. It would be perfect. I'll have Marty fix dinner for us here."

  “You're sure it won't put you out?"

  She grinned. “Positive."

  * * * *

  Angie lay in bed that night, thinking about Tom. Such a wonderful and kind friend, so thoughtful. Never wearing out his welcome and genuinely interested in her well-being. Bud had always regarded Tom highly and now she could see why. Not only was he a good, down-to-earth cop, but a wholesome person as well. With those pleasant reflections, she drifted off to sleep.

  The next day, Angie found herself looking forward to Tom's visit. In preparation, she searched through Bud's office for any extra disks or CDs that he might have stuffed into the desk drawers. She found several and added them to the ones they hadn't gone through. Something nagged at the back of mind, but not being able to put her finger on it, she brushed it aside.

  Angie headed for the study to check the wet bar supplies, but stopped at the kitchen door and observed Marty preparing their dinner. The strained relationship between the two women had relaxed somewhat, but she knew their friendship could never be the same. However, Angie didn't want to lose Marty and hoped that they could eventually resolve most of the problems.

  Marty must have felt her presence, and turned. Smiling, she removed a pan from the cabinet. “I like Detective Hoffman; he's a nice man. I enjoy fixing a dinner for someone who's so appreciative."

  Angie strolled into the kitchen. “Yes, he's very nice and considerate. And not having a wife, he enjoys a good home-cooked meal."

  Marty leaned against the cabinet, twisting the pan in her hand. “I don't mean to bring up unhappy memories, but has he made any progress in finding Bud's murderer?"

  Angie shook her head and sighed. “No, they keep running into a brick wall. But I feel something will open up soon."

  Marty nodded and continued her preparations.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Angie asked.

  “No, thanks. I've got everything ready so all I have to do is stick it in the oven."

  When Tom arrived, Angie led him into the study. They finished going through the box of CDs but found nothing. Tom leaned back on the couch, his brow furrowed. “I thought we'd find something. My gut tells me Bud made a copy of the original records with the ABC Wafer Company on it. Crane said Bud showed a big interest in his findings. Where in the hell would he have put it?"

  Angie shook her head.

  “Do you have a safe-deposit box?"

  Suddenly, Angie's face lit up. “Dear Lord, why didn't I think of it before? No, we don't have a box at the bank, but we do have a wall safe here in the house. And just the other day when I pulled out some legal papers to take to the attorney, a CD fell out of the vault onto the floor. I didn't think much about it, just figured it to be one of Bud's favorite songs that he didn't want to accidentally record over. I wasn't in the mood to deal with it at the time, so I tossed it back inside."

  Tom jumped up. “Where's the safe?"

  Inside Angie's bedroom, Tom stood back as she worked the combination. She finally opened it, retrieved the CD, then rummaged through the rest of the contents, making sure she hadn't overlooked anything.

  They hurried back to the study, where Tom slid the CD into the computer. Angie felt his anxiety as a folder popped up on the monitor. He glanced at her. “Keep your fingers crossed."

  When he double-clicked, several folders filled the screen. Angie knew he was excited as he studied each one intensely. Suddenly, he touched her arm and pointed. “There it is. The ABC Wafer Company.” He slapped his thigh. “By damn, I knew Bud wouldn't let us down.” He clicked through several of the pages. “I'm going to copy these files onto this computer, then onto another disk. When I finish, I want you to store this original CD back in your safe."

  Angie shook her head in silence, her stomach knotted. She knew in her heart that they were a step closer to finding Bud's killer.

  * * *

  Chapter Fifteen

  On Sunday morning, Sandy called. “Angie, have you got anything planned for this beautiful day?"

  “No, just paying bills."

  Sandy laughed. “How boring. Why don't you come over for a barbecue this afternoon? Ken is fixing chicken on the spit. The twins will be gone for the day, which means we can get caught up on all the gossip. It's been ages since we've talked."

  “It sounds wonderful. What time?"

  “Say between one and two o'clock."

  “I'll see you then."

  The invitation lifted Angie's spirits. They hadn't seen each other for a couple of weeks, and she'd missed their visits. So much had happened and she knew a decision had to be made on how much she would tell her friend.

  She stared out the kitchen window as she sipped her coffee and thought about last night. After Tom had left, she'd gone into the computer to study the Nevers Company financial records. Not much made sense and it all looked like a foreign language. But she continued to search anyway, in hopes of finding some entry that might indicate a payment toward Melinda's welfare. But all she found that made any sense were salary statements. They didn't help. Bud had always taken care of their money matters. He'd once told her she didn't need to worry; there would always be money to run the household and to take care of any personal items that she desired.

  Leaning back in the chair, she stared at the monitor. It made her angry that she hadn't asked questions about their finances, if for no other reason than for her own private knowledge. She banged her fists on the table beside the computer. “How stupid of me,” she said aloud. “I should have been more involved in Bud's life and learned more about the business."

  She had no one to blame but herself for all those years of being so dependent on her husband. She dropped her hands to her side. “Too late now,” she sighed. Picking up her cold cup of coffee, she headed for the kitchen where she warmed it in the microwave before heading upstairs to get ready for the barbecue.

  Later that afternoon, Angie and Sandy sat under the shade of the large oak tree that shaded the Weber's back yard. Ken stood at the grill basting the two chickens he had on the spit, the fire sizzling with drippings. The aroma curled around the women.

  Angie sniffed. “Oh, that smells so delicious. It's been a long time since I've had grilled chicken."

  “It's good to have you here,” Sandy said. “How are things going?"

  “I've had a few setbacks. But so far I've managed."

  Sandy raised a questioning brow. “For instance?"

  “Tom feels someone has been tampering with the company's books. He hasn't said it outright, but I think he believes there's a connection between that and Bud's murder. I found an unmarked CD in our home safe. It turned out to be a copy of the original books, which listed the dummy company Bill Crane mentioned.” Angie's voice caught. “It's hard to believe someone at work murdered Bud."

  Ken had been staring at Angie as she spoke. “Why haven't I been told about this latest discovery?"

  She shrugged. “I'm sure someone will advise you. We just found it late yesterday afternoon. Tom's going to have an auditor check it out."

  Ken immediately excused himself, saying he'd just remembered a phone call he needed to make. After a few minutes, he returned with a somber face and resumed his grilling.

  Sandy picked up her drink and scooted to the edge of her lounge so she faced Angie. “You said setbacks. What other things have happened?"

  Angie t
ook a deep breath and rolled her eyes. “I'm being blackmailed."

  “What!"

  “Remember the woman I asked you about, Melinda? Well, she's claiming to be Bud's illegitimate daughter and wants the child payments he supposedly has been making to continue."

  Sandy shot a look at her husband.

  Angie noticed the exchange of glances and frowned. “So you did know about Melinda?"

  Lowering her eyes, Sandy nodded. “Ken told me the night you asked us about her."

  Angie stared at Ken. “And how long have you known?"

  Ken turned his attention back to the grill. “From the day it happened. Bud swore me to secrecy."

  “And you know that Marty is her mother?"

  Ken grimaced and nodded without speaking.

  Angie felt like her heart had been squeezed by this betrayal. She glanced from one to the other. “Why didn't you tell me after Bud's death? At least I could have prepared for the encounter."

  Without looking at her, Ken spoke in a low voice. “I never thought the girl would have the guts to approach you."

  She rolled her cocktail glass between her hands. “Dr. Parker is doing a DNA test. But it's probably a waste of time since you two knew about it and Marty has told me everything. Obviously, Melinda is Bud's daughter."

  Sandy furrowed her brows. “Angie, how can she blackmail you? The girl is past eighteen years of age. And everything's out in the open now."

  “She swears she's been robbed of her childhood, plus she wants to buy Marty her own house.” Angie stood and paced. “I really haven't decided what to do. She threatened to ruin my life. This girl is not a sweet person, but she is Bud's daughter. So, I'm really torn over this whole mess."

  “What does Marty think?” Sandy asked.

  “She's made herself ill worrying about it. She doesn't want to leave me or her cottage and believes Melinda is evil."

  Without a word, Ken put the cooked chicken on the picnic table and disappeared into the house. Sandy frowned, then followed him inside, leaving Angie alone in the middle of the yard. Sensing an uncomfortable moment between the two, Angie decided everyone's emotions were on overload. Her appetite had left, so she picked up her purse and went out the side gate to her car.