Missing Heiress (A Jackie Harlan Mystery Book 2)

by Marti Talbott

  Nicole’s door was closed when Jim and Maggie got back from lunch. Jim quickly stuck his head in Susan’s cubical. “Who’s with Nicole?”

  “Roxie,” Susan answered.

  “Is she in trouble?” he asked.

  “Not that I know of.”

  Jim skipped the next cubical and then stuck his head in Maggie’s. “Robot Roxie,” he whispered. By the time Maggie turned around, he was gone.

  Roxie the Robot was a stickler for the rules, even though she wasn’t the boss of anyone. If an employee broke a rule, they could expect a look of disapproval from Roxie. Everyone agreed – if the company had a snitch, it was Roxie. For Roxie to be spending time in Nicole’s office could only mean one of two things; either she was snitching again, or Nicole was offering her the manager position. If it was the latter, they were all doomed.

  “Just our luck,” Maggie muttered. She logged into her computer and pulled up the next cancellation order, but she had a hard time concentrating. It was too bad Bronco8881 had to rush off so soon. She would have liked listening to his deep voice and looking at his fascinating eyes. From this day forward, talking to him online was going to take on a whole new dimension. On the other hand, the temptation to accept his invitation to dinner had also greatly increased. In her opinion, he was indeed divine.

  *

  It was mid-afternoon when Carl said, “Bingo! Nanny Bertrand pays for her own cable television and lives in the Fireside Retirement Home here in Denver.”

  “Excellent. What’s the address?” Jackie asked.

  “I’ll print it out.” He clicked on print, waited a second or two, reached over and pulled a sheet of paper off the printer.

  When Jackie’s personal cellphone rang and she put it on speaker, Michael and Carl stopped what they were doing to listen.

  “Jackie, it’s great to hear from you,” Grant Cunningham said. “What can I help with?”

  “We need a little information,” Jackie answered. “By the way, you’re on speaker.”

  “Anything, just name it.”

  “Do you have a frequent visitor in your casino by the name of Mathew Connelly?”

  “Connelly? Sure, I know him.”

  “I would rather you didn’t tell him we’re checking up on him,” Jackie said.

  “I understand. What would you like to know?”

  “Anything you can tell us.”

  “Well, he is a high roller and he can have a free room when he comes, but he would rather pay for one.”

  Both Michael and Carl rolled their eyes. “By credit card?” Michael asked.

  “Yes, a Visa, I think it is. It’s always good.”

  “Does he win or lose most often?” Jackie asked.

  “Six of one, half dozen of the other. He favors the blackjack tables…and the dealer, if she is pretty. Last year, Joyce Boyd fell hard for him.”

  “I see,” said Jackie. “Is he seeing her now?”

  “I’m not sure. If you’ll hang on a minute, I’ll ask around.”

  “Discreetly?” Jackie asked.

  “Of course. Be right back.”

  They could hear the sound of slot machines in the background as a door apparently opened and then closed. After a long silence, Grant came back on the line. “No, she dumped him about six months later.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “I don’t, want me to ask her?”

  “No thanks, we can take it from here. How’s Jeffery?”

  “He’s doing great, thanks to you. My door is always open and this place is yours, when the three of you are ready for a good time.”

  “We might just take you up on that,” Jackie said. “Thanks, Grant.”

  “Anytime…anytime at all, you know that, Jackie. I owe you my soul.”

  Michael waited until Jackie hung up before he said, “Another happy customer.”

  “Atlantic City sounds pretty good to me,” said Carl.

  “Is your curiosity satisfied, gentlemen? We now know Connelly is unfaithful and that he truly is a gambler. What more do we need to know about him?”

  “I wonder why Joyce dumped him,” Michael muttered.

  Jackie frowned. “Have you hacked into the boarding school yet?”

  “I’m hacking, I’m hacking. All I need is a password and the computer is still searching for one.”

  *

  “I’ve been over the spreadsheets twice and the answer is the same,” Maggie whispered. Instead of going to the break room, they walked down the sidewalk in front of the GSTS building until they were almost to the corner of the block.

  Jim shook his head. “A hundred thousand dollars short?”

  “That’s what I keep coming up with.”

  “There are a lot of dishonest people in the world and I’m convinced they all work here. Are you going to tell Nicole what you found?”

  “I have to; it’s so obvious, anybody could find it and she knows I’m not that stupid.”

  Jim stopped and nervously ran his fingers through his red hair. “This is not good, not good at all.” When he glanced back, Nicole was standing outside smoking and watching them.

  “At least they can’t accuse us of stealing it. We don’t have access to any of the company’s funds,” said Maggie.

  He intentionally turned his back to Nicole. “Don’t count on that. They’ll have to blame someone. I wonder why I never noticed.”

  “Maybe they have two sets of books.”

  “Maybe the books she gave you are for the sex phone business.”

  Maggie thought about that for a moment. “I don’t think so. It could be, I guess, but they don’t require deposits for that business, do they?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.” Jim paused to think for a minute too. “I see everything coming in and going out, and I’ve never spotted a problem.”

  “What about the deposits?”

  “Well, I record them, and then send the money to a separate bank account. That’s the last I see of them.”

  “So you wouldn’t know if someone got into that account?”

  “True, I wouldn’t. That must be it.”

  Maggie was worried. “Can they really blame the shortage on you?”

  “Probably.” He closed his eyes and once more ran his fingers through his hair. “I may have to take up drinking.”

  “Don’t be silly, you can’t afford it.”

  “That’s true.” He started them walking back toward the building they worked in. “If Nicole asks what we were talking about, tell her we’re having an affair and needed some time alone.”

  Maggie giggled. “Should I say I’m pregnant, and I want to know what you’re going to do about it?”

  “Why not, that would explain our dismal mood lately. I hate this job.”

  “So do I,” Maggie moaned.

  Neither looked at Nicole as they walked past, climbed the steps, and went inside.

  *

  Maggie spent half the night tossing and turning in her ridiculous excuse for a bed. She finally sat up and turned on the light. It was almost one a.m. and morning was bound to come way too early, but her mind kept racing and wouldn’t let her sleep. It was just as well she got up; she forgot to hide her laptop. On a whim, she opened the chat room.

  Sissy3211: Bronco, are you still up?

  Bronco8881: I’m here. Why are you still awake?

  Sissy3211: I can’t sleep.

  Bronco8881: Is something wrong?

  Sissy3211: Maybe. Remember those spreadsheets I told you my boss wanted me to go over?

  Bronco8881: I remember.

  Sissy3211: A hundred thousand dollars are missing.

  Austin set the legal papers he was working on aside, and stared at the words on the screen.

  Bronco8881: Are you sure?

  Sissy3211: I checked everything twice.

  Bronco8881: That’s a lot of money. Did you tell your boss?

  Sissy3211: I was afraid not to, but now I wish I hadn’t. I should have let her think I was too stupid
to find it.

  Bronco8881: She probably thought if you couldn’t find it, the auditors wouldn’t be able to find it either. It’s the price you pay for being smart.

  Sissy3211: I don’t feel very smart right now.

  Bronco8881: You need to find a new job.

  Sissy3211: I know, it’s just not a good time for me to do that.

  Bronco8881: I can’t think of a better time. Let me help you. I know people and I can recommend you.

  Sissy3211: I might take you up on that one of these days.

  Bronco8881: Please do. Have you tried eating something? Maybe you can’t sleep because you’re hungry.

  Sissy3211: I’ll get some crackers, be right back.

  Austin rubbed his temples with both hands and waited. If he wasn’t worried before, he was now. If only she would let him help her, but she was afraid of him. He guessed he didn’t blame her for that, but how do you convince someone you’re not dangerous?

  Sissy3211: I’m back. Why are you still up?

  Bronco8881: A little more work to do.

  Sissy3211: Tell me a bedtime story.

  Bronco8881: Once upon a time.

  Sissy3211: I’ve heard that one. Tell me about your childhood

  Bronco8881: You want to hear about my two ugly stepsisters?

  Sissy3211: You’re kidding, right?

  Bronco8881: Wrong. My father passed away and my mom remarried.

  Sissy3211: Did you like her new husband?

  Bronco8881: I did. Still do, but his daughters…ouch.

  Sissy3211: Ugly?

  Bronco8881: Don’t tell them I said that, okay?

  Sissy3211: Okay. Are they older or younger?

  Bronco8881: They couldn’t have made my life so miserable if they were older. They were younger by two and three years.

  Sissy3211: What did they do?

  Bronco8881: They hung around my friends, followed us everywhere, and were a total embarrassment. I still haven’t forgiven them.

  Sissy3211: How old were you at the time?

  Bronco8881: Ten, I think, maybe eleven. What about you? Tell me about your childhood.

  Austin waited, but she didn’t answer right away.

  Sissy3211: I’m kind of tired now. Thanks for being there. Good night.

  --- Sissy3211 has signed off---

  He looked at the clock and decided he had better get some sleep too…if he could sleep after talking to her. She couldn’t have found a worse job if she tried. Sadly, there was nothing he could do until she was willing to trust him.

  CHAPTER 6

  The six-story Fireside Retirement Home had the definite odor of cleaning solutions, mixed with musty belongings that some of the old people weren’t willing to part with. Other than that, the state funded facility was clean, and looked like a pleasant place for the elderly to spend their last days. The foyer led to a reception area where an older woman sat behind a desk knitting a baby blanket.

  “I would like to see Adelaide Bertrand. Is she home?” Jackie asked.

  “Oh goody,” said the receptionist. “She gets very few visitors. Let me call up to her room and see.”

  “I would rather surprise her.”

  “It’s against the rules, I’m afraid. We have to have the resident’s permission before we let anyone up.”

  “I see.” Jackie gave her name and then prayed she wouldn’t be denied when the receptionist called for permission. She became further apprehensive when the receptionist repeated her name three times over the phone.

  At last, the woman hung up and smiled. “She’s coming down. Have a seat.”

  “Thank you.” Jackie sat in a chair and waited until she heard the elevator whine its way down to the bottom floor. She stood up as soon as the door opened.

  With a hint of a French accent, Adelaide asked, “Are you Jackie?” She looked to be in her late sixties or early seventies, with gray hair that was close to turning pure white. She was thin, but not overly so, and her shoulders were slightly bent forward.

  “I am. Thank you for seeing me. I wonder if there is someplace where we can talk in private.”

  “Are you from Social Services? Because I sent my change of address.”

  “No, it’s about another matter.”

  “What other matter?”

  Jackie took a deep breath, noticed the receptionist was clinging to her every word, and lowered her voice. “We really should talk in private.”

  Adelaide studied the candid look on Jackie’s face for a long moment, and then motioned for her to follow. She led the way to a large community room where several other residents were watching a game show on a large TV. “Don’t worry, most of them are hard of hearing,” she said, as she chose a table away from the others.

  “Miss Bertrand, I am a private detective and I’ve been hired to find Georgia.”

  Adelaide’s eyes widened. “Does Mathew Connelly know where I am?”

  “No, and we aren’t going to tell him.”

  “Do you swear?”

  “I swear.”

  Adelaide again searched the sincerity in Jackie’s eyes and relaxed a little…but just a little.

  “Miss Bertrand, Georgia stands to inherit millions if we can find her. Will you tell me what happened?”

  She lowered her gaze. “What happened? Well, now let me see. I guess you could say I was a bit naughty as a girl. You know the way some girls are when they get with the wrong kind of people.”

  “I understand, go on.”

  “Well, because of it, I couldn’t get a visa to come to America. I so wanted to come, but there was no way until I ran into Mathew Connelly. I met him in a bar and we got to talking. He said he could get me a visa and naturalization papers. He said I’d never have to worry about a thing, not even the immigration laws. He was right about that part; my papers have never been questioned.”

  “What did you have to do to get them?”

  In the middle of the table, a small plastic vase with a single red artificial rose sat on a paper placemat. Adelaide began to nervously toy with the corner of the placemat, folding it up, and then smoothing the fold out again. “Just take care of his baby for a while. It turned out to be six years.”

  “How old was Georgia when you got her?”

  “Just two days. He said she was born August 14th.”

  Jackie got a small notepad out of her purse and jotted that down. “Did he say anything about the baby’s mother?”

  “He said the mother died and the baby was too little to travel back to America. My own daughter died when she was three and I was pleased to have a baby in my arms again. Georgia was such a sweet little thing. She hardly ever cried the way some babies do.”

  “Did he give you money for her care?”

  Adelaide emphatically nodded. “It was cash at first, and then he sent checks.”

  “Do you remember the name of the bank?”

  “Some bank in England. I don’t remember the name of it. The thing is, he never called to see how she was or sent a letter – just the money. I didn’t mind, I would have kept her forever.”

  “Was there a return address on the envelope?”

  “Just a postmark.” Adelaide realized what she was doing and put her hands in her lap.

  “From where?” Jackie asked.

  “All over the world.”

  “I see.”

  “There were three from Colorado, so I suspected that’s where he lived.”

  “You told Mr. Gladstone that you took Georgia to a girl’s school.”

  “Yes, on her sixth birthday. Out of the blue, Mr. Connelly showed up at my door. He handed me the visa and two tickets to London. He said to take her to Mary Cathleen’s Boarding School in England and leave her there.”

  “Did he give you any identification to take with her?”

  “No, everything was all arranged when we arrived. They were expecting us.”

  When a tear rolled down Adelaide’s cheek, Jackie opened her purse again, pulled out a tissue, and han
ded it to her.

  “Nothing in my life has ever been harder than leaving that beautiful little girl in the hands of strangers. Georgia cried and I cried, but there was nothing I could do. She wasn’t mine to keep, you see.”

  Jackie waited until the nanny managed to pull herself together. “What happened next?”

  “I used the third ticket Mr. Connelly gave me to fly from London to New York City.”

  “Did you try to contact Georgia after that?”

  “I wrote her a letter. Mr. Connelly got hold of it somehow and found me. I thought he was going to kill me, but a neighbor came to see what all the shouting was about.”

  “Did you move to a different address?”

  “No, I stayed. I thought if he knew right where I was, he wouldn’t think I was up to something. Besides, I didn’t know of anyplace else to go in America. I never tried to contact Georgia again and he stayed away.”

  “How did you end up in Colorado?”

  Adelaide wiped the last tear off her cheek. “Well, they were going to demolish the building I lived in, so I had to go somewhere. I used to get the Denver paper and I read about Mathew and Laura Connelly a few times, so I knew Georgia’s mother didn’t die. Then I read about Mr. Gladstone and his money, and wasn’t it sad he had only one daughter, Laura Connelly, and no grandchildren.”

  “So you knew Mr. Gladstone didn’t know about Georgia.”

  “That’s right. There isn’t a day goes by, I don’t think about my sweet little Georgia. I thought it was about time her grandfather knew, so I spent all I had on a bus ticket.”

  Jackie’s eyes widened. “You rode a bus all the way from New York City to Denver?”

  “It took forever. I’ll never do that again.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “I was down to my last dime, got hungry, and went to a shelter. A nice man there said he could help me. Mind you, I’ve heard that song before. Only this one really did help me. He got my social security checks transferred here, and got me this place to live. It isn’t much, but it’s a roof over my head.”

  “Mr. Gladstone is very grateful you came to him,” said Jackie.

  “Was, you mean. He died. Mathew Connelly killed him.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know for certain, but I wouldn’t put it past a man like him. He is pure evil. You can see it in his eyes. No man has ever scared me the way Mathew Connelly did.”