by Rayna Morgan
“Me and someone from the police department.”
“Police?” Adele spun around, wiping her hands on a towel. “What are you talking about?”
“An inspector with the homicide department.”
“Homicide! Are you saying John’s mixed up in murder?” Her legs buckled.
Lea grabbed the woman’s arm and helped her sit down. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. I’m not suggesting that at all, only that he may have important information about the case.”
Adele rubbed her fingers across her brow. “This is hard to process. I don’t know what to do.”
Lea covered Adele’s hand with her own. “Get hold of your husband. Tell him to come home.”
“I told you, I don’t know where he is,” she snapped. “He won’t take my calls until he’s ready. You’ll have to call him yourself.”
“He won’t answer if a stranger calls. Let him know what I’ve told you. Tell him we can help.”
“You can help? Is he in some kind of danger?”
Lea didn’t respond, uncertain how much to disclose.
“Has John been threatened? Is that why the policeman wants to talk with him?”
“John may be involved in a crime.”
An unreadable emotion rippled across Adele’s face. “You couldn’t possibly be talking about my husband.”
“I’m afraid I am. There was an incident at the hotel Friday night—”
The woman cringed. “I read the news.”
A sharp edge replaced the earlier cordial tone. “You’re not suggesting he was involved in that horrid affair?”
“I’m sure it’s easily straightened out, but John needs to talk with Detective Elliot. We need to know where he was Friday night.”
Several moments passed. Adele walked to the counter, folded the grocery bags, and stored them neatly in the cupboard. She draped the towel through a ring on a cabinet beside the sink.
The sounds of children and a barking dog reached Lea’s ears. The sink was leaking, a slow drip.
When Adele turned back, her demeanor had changed. She appeared as calm as a waveless ocean.
“John and I were here at home Friday night. All night.”
“That’s not true. You told me this morning—”
“I don’t recall a conversation between you and me this morning. You need to leave.”
“Adele—”
The composed demeanor erupted with the force of a hurricane.
“Get out of my house!” she shrieked. “I want you out of my house now!”
Lea shuddered at the sudden transformation. She made her way to the front door where she turned and dropped a card on the table.
“You may need help as well, Adele.”
Lea walked to her car. Her hands trembled as she pressed the unlock button.
What had set Adele off; shock, fear, or anger?
According to her, John will return tonight. I plan to be here when he does.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When Lea arrived home, her sister was parked in the driveway. Lea drove into the garage and Maddy followed her inside.
“From your text, you had better luck than I did,” Lea said. She poured two glasses of iced tea and told Maddy about her encounters with John Simpson’s wife.
“Sounds as though you teed her off good, Sis.”
“No kidding!”
“So, what do you think?” Maddy asked.
“What do you suppose?” Lea turned her hands upward and shrugged her shoulders. “I think it’s important we talk to John.”
“Don’t take my head off. What are you upset about?”
“Being screamed out of someone’s house isn’t my idea of how to spend the holiday.”
Maddy twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “You blame me for getting us into this mess, don’t you?”
Lea breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. “You have to admit, we wouldn’t be in the middle of this if it weren’t for Eric.”
“You sound like Paul.”
“I’m supposed to be with him now, at the beach, with Jon and the dogs.”
“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
“When have I heard that before? Tell me how it went at Eric’s office.” She listened attentively to Maddy’s account. “I guess your morning wasn’t much better than mine. Wes is some kind of jerk.”
“That’s the second time he’s come on to me,” Maddy griped. “No, that’s the third time.”
“You told me about his confronting you in the garage at the hotel. What’s the other occasion?”
“At a bash Eric’s company threw. Eric was swapping stories with his partners. I was getting air by the pool. Wes came out and made lewd comments about us going skinny dipping.”
“Were you and Eric married at the time?”
“Heck, yes. That’s what made it so disgusting. I mean, Eric is a mentor to Wes. Showed him the ropes from the day he got hired. Wes hangs on Eric like a puppy dog. Maybe more like a bull dog.
“I think Eric is the only friend Wes has at the firm. The other guys think he’s too pushy. They complain that he tries to horn in on their deals. I remember when one of them accused Wes of stealing a client. He took a swipe at Wes. Eric had to pull the guy off.”
“You told me Wes isn’t even a partner. Why does Eric put up with him? Eric typically hangs with the upper echelon.”
“Wes told him a story about having no family support. Eric’s a sap for underdogs who make their own way.”
“I didn’t know Eric had any soft spots,” Lea said, sarcastically. “So, what does he plan to do with the file you retrieved? Is he taking it to Tom?”
“After he reviews it to make sure the information could cause the short sale play he talked to you about.”
Lea blanched. “When did he tell you that?”
“Right after I emailed the file and told him to call you.”
“You told Eric to call me?” Lea asked.
“Don’t let him know I told you. He wants you to think it was his idea.” She noticed the puzzled look on her sister’s face. “He called, didn’t he?”
“What? Oh, yeah, he called.”
“He said he’d let me know when to turn the file over to Tom.”
Lea walked to the kitchen to give herself time to think. She picked up a pitcher and refilled their glasses.
“Have you figured it out yet?” Maddy asked.
“Figured what out?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m not a mind-reader, Maddy. What are you asking?”
“I’m asking who did it.”
“Who did what?”
“Killed Kim, what else?”
“Don’t you think I’d tell Tom if I knew?”
“Remember what Dad always says,” Maddy reminded her.
“I know, I know. Follow the money. We are following the money. The question is, should we be following it up or down? Is the motive a short sale play, or making sure the stock doesn’t lose value?”
“What do you mean lose value?”
“Never mind.” She leaned toward her sister. “Maddy, it’s your turn to promise you won’t get mad.”
“Let me hear what you’re going to say before I promise not to get mad.”
“Are you sure Eric is being honest with you?”
Maddy’s back stiffened. “Why are you asking?”
“Have you considered that Eric could be in collusion with the whistle-blower? If that’s true, he’s guilty of fraud.”
“Why would you think such a thing?” Maddy demanded.
Asking her sister not to get mad clearly hadn’t worked. Lea couldn’t keep her conversation with Eric confidential. “When Eric called me, he tried to put the blame on Wes.”
“What?! How does Wes fit in?”
“Eric said Wes has a client with a large amount of D & M stock. Wes wouldn’t want negative information released, at least not until he’s had time to diversify his client’s holdings so the client wo
n’t get burned if the stock plunges.”
“But Eric has always looked out for Wes. You’re telling me he’s turning on his protégé?”
“In their line of work, I’d say money trumps friendship.”
“Geez, I don’t get it. I mean, I’m envious when another salesperson gets hired to furnish someone’s home or office, but I’d hardly stab them in the back over the commission.”
Lea smiled at her sister’s analogy. “You’re working on a smaller scale. Much smaller.”
“I get your point. So what’s our next move?”
“We need to find out how much Wes, or anyone else in the firm, had to gain or lose with D & M stock,” Lea reasoned.
“How do we get our hands on that kind of information?”
“When Tom interviewed Eric the night of the murder—”
“You mean when Tom grilled Eric!”
“Whatever. Eric said the purpose of the partners’ meeting was to review highlights of the previous quarter, remember?”
“More or less.”
“That’s the information we’re looking for,” Lea said. “Where would Eric keep his copy of data reviewed at the meeting?”
“On his laptop, of course. He keeps everything on that stupid thing. I used to think he’d bring it to bed with us.”
“Since you did such a great job copying his assistant’s files, how would you like to access his computer and send me those quarterly reports?”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t you call Eric and ask him for copies?”
“He probably has confidentiality issues about letting people access the firm’s buy and sell transactions.”
“Maybe that should tell you something, Lea, like you shouldn’t be doing it.”
“Eric told me to find out about Wes.”
“Then figure out a way to access his computer yourself.”
“No can do. I’m going to find my family and spend a couple of hours on the beach. Then, I’m going back to the Simpson house to talk to John.”
“At night, by yourself?”
“I’m taking the dogs with me.”
“All right, tell me what to look for on Eric’s computer. Consider this my making up for getting us in this mess.”
Lea gave her sister a thumbs up. “Good girl!”
“So you’re going to confront a fugitive while I steal files from my ex-husband’s computer. How could anyone think this won’t be a fun night?!”
* * *
The Simpson house appeared less welcoming at night. Lea was glad for the dogs’ company. She parked across the street several doors down, but close enough to have a clear view.
After reading her emails, thumbing through the news, and checking the weather on her handheld device, she tapped a reminder into her notepad. Ask Dad his secret to surviving surveillance.
She lifted a thermos from the floor, but hesitated. She didn’t want to leave to find a public restroom, and she’d hardly be able to ask Adele.
A sudden, throaty growl from Gracie sent shivers up her back. “What’s wrong, girl, are you ready to go home? Me, too. Let me dump this coffee and we’ll get out of here.”
Opening the car door, she leaned over to empty the remaining liquid and found herself eye-level with a pair of man’s legs.
“You looking for me?” a voice asked.
The Border collie started barking. Lea’s line of sight traveled upward to a spitting image of the man in the Simpson family photo.
She dropped the empty thermos on the seat, gave Gracie a ‘stay’ command, and got out of the car.
The man was of average height, wearing wire-frame glasses, and a hairstyle meant to cover a high forehead. Dark facial stubble set off an unnatural paleness which suggested anemia or a draining weekend.
“Mr. Simpson, I’m Lea—”
“I know who you are and why you’re here.” He squeezed his fists in and out. “You’ve upset my wife with your implications.”
Lea sensed that any attempt at cordiality would be unproductive. “Adele doesn’t understand that I’m here to help. The police may start looking for you at any moment.”
“Do I have you to thank for that?”
“Quite the opposite. I’m trying to save you embarrassment by arranging for you to talk to a friend of mine in homicide and get this straightened out before things turn worse.”
His eyes darted from side to side as though he expected someone to appear.
“Don’t worry; I’m alone.” She took a step closer. “You’re worked up. Can’t we go inside and talk?”
“We have nothing to talk about.” He retreated. “I just need some rest. I find long weekends exhausting.”
“Your wife told me you’ve been under stress. Has something happened at work?”
“What?” he mumbled. He appeared preoccupied.
“Your job. Is everything all right? I heard about your recent promotion.”
“Oh, that.” He leaned against the car as his body sagged. “Yes, I’m a partner now.”
Lea gave him a moment to compose himself.
“How ironic!” He chuckled, but his laugh was hollow. “I was at the end of my rope with the company. After all my hard work, I’d peaked as head of accounting. I had hoped to be Chief Financial Officer, but now I’ve become a partner instead, something I didn’t expect.”
“Does the title mean a lot to you?”
“When I’m isolated at the company compound, it doesn’t matter. But every year I attend conventions with fellow members of the accounting profession. I’m the oldest one without the letters CFO on my business card. During the cocktail hour, I listen to younger people with far less experience boast about their promotions and compare compensation packages. Those are the nights I return to my motel and order room service.”
“Becoming a partner must be worth a lot.”
“In monetary terms, stock options and profit-sharing are generous bonuses. At least, I’ll have that to throw in people’s faces at the next convention.”
Lea debated how far she should go without Tom, and decided no time like the present. “What do you intend to do about blowing the whistle on your company?”
John rose to his full height, aroused from his contemplation. “What do you know about that?” he demanded.
“Eric Larson is my sister’s ex-husband.” She didn’t offer further explanation.
“So Eric blabbed,” John sputtered. An unhealthy color flooded his face.
Lea couldn’t take her eyes from the bulging veins in his neck. She met anger with anger. “Eric's been placed in an extremely compromising position which you may be responsible for,” she blurted.
“For your information,” John snarled, “I’ve had second thoughts about using the information I gave him.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“About going public with the report?”
“Let me guess. Your change of heart occurred the same time you received news of your promotion.”
“If my company gets wind of unfavorable information being made public, they’ll put their lawyers on it. Legal counsel will tie up any release of negative reports for years.”
“I see. In the meantime, you’ll be enjoying the benefits of profit-sharing and stock options.”
“Regardless of the attorneys, the information will eventually be made public without my jeopardizing my new position with the company.”
A thought occurred to Lea. “Unless Eric leaks news to the media to make a short sale play.”
Panic flooded his voice. “Eric hasn’t told anyone else, has he?”
“The only reason he told me was in relation to something stolen from his briefcase. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
His muscles relaxed, but his jaw remained rigid and his eyes narrowed to slits. “What are you inferring?”
“Let’s talk about the murder at the hotel Friday night.”
His voice rose to a fever pitch. “I had nothing to do with that.”
“Perhaps, but unless you’re willing to talk to my detective friend, you’ll have a roomful of cops to convince.”
She pulled the keys from her purse, but felt compelled to follow another line of inquiry. “Why take the information to Eric instead of going straight to the FDA?”
“I ran into Eric at a reunion. It seemed simpler and more expedient to let him handle it.”
Either the truth, she thought, or well-rehearsed lies to cover collusion.
“One last question.” She leaned on the door before getting into her car. “Don’t you feel a moral obligation to make that information available to the public? Or now that you'll get a slice of the pie, have you recovered from your crisis of conscience?”
The anger in his eyes seared through her. He slammed the hood of the car with his fist. “I’m not the only one in the company privy to that information. Let someone else do a moral good deed.”
He pivoted and turned toward the house.
Lea’s palms were clammy as she gripped the steering wheel. John was more like a geyser than a placid lake.
Maybe his fishing trips were a chance to blow off steam.
Maybe Adele’s visits to her sister were more than a break from routine.
And maybe a fancy title was important enough to kill for.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Eric was at the table where Maddy met him the night of the murder. Her warning that she might be late worked. He brought his laptop with him and was busy typing.
“Isn’t this rather macabre?” she asked. “You could have chosen an inside table.”
“This gives me closure. I feel like I’m putting the whole nightmare behind me. The police have even cleared me to leave town.”
“How soon are you going?” She didn’t mean to sound anxious, but she didn’t want to lose her opportunity.
“Traffic will be a mess tonight with the holiday crowd going home. I’ll leave early in the morning and go straight to the office.” He looked at her and winked. “Which means you and I have the whole night ahead of us.”
“Nice to see your ego has recovered from the humbling experience.”
He grinned as he reached to close his computer. She grabbed his hand before he slammed the cover.
“Can we have dinner?” she asked.
