“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Dana laughed. “Does Matt have a brother?”
“Actually, yes.”
Dana laughed harder.
On the other side of the kitchen, Matt’s chair scraped as he stood. “My ears are burning.”
Dana grinned at him. “I made lemon bars. Do you want coffee, tea, espresso, cappuccino . . .”
“Just coffee, thanks.” Matt pointed at Bree, then at her chair. “You sit. I’ll clear.”
He began collecting dishes from the table. Luke jumped up to help. Kayla fetched the platter of lemon bars on the kitchen island, walking with slow and careful steps toward the table. Ladybug stood, her eye on the dessert. Bree blocked the dog with her foot before she could intercept the child. Dessert was consumed in about sixty seconds. Then Luke went to his room to study, and Kayla settled at the table with spelling homework. Matt and Bree carried their mugs into her home office.
Bree sat behind her desk and opened the file containing Paul Beckett’s financial statements.
Matt took a chair. “I’ll take the personal accounts.”
She passed them over. “I get the corporate statements?” She eyed the stack of pages. “This is going to take forever.”
“I could text my sister and ask her to help,” Matt offered.
“Cady?”
He nodded. “She used to be an accountant, and she does the bookkeeping for my brother’s business.”
Bree brightened. “That would be great.”
Matt sent a text. “She’s probably feeding and exercising the dogs right now, but she’ll get back to me.”
“In the meantime . . .” Bree opened the first report.
Two hours later, Dana knocked on the door. “Kayla is ready for bed.”
“I’ll be back in a few.” Bree ran upstairs, read to Kayla for fifteen minutes, then tucked the little girl into bed. When she returned to the home office, Dana handed her a mug of fresh coffee. She and Matt were already sipping theirs.
“I offered to help.” Dana perched on the corner of the desk and waved a financial statement. “Matt brought me up to speed.”
Matt stretched. “So far, I’ve found two things. Paul decreased his salary over the past two years. His personal expenditures stayed about the same. There were a few months he used personal assets to cover business expenses.”
“What about his fancy cars?” Bree sipped coffee and returned to her seat behind the desk.
“Leases,” Matt said. “The truck payment goes through the business. The others are personal leases. He doesn’t own any of the vehicles. He rents the business office space.”
“He drew down on a working capital line of credit a few times too,” Dana added. “He’s only paying the interest. There’s a letter from the bank saying he needed to pay the credit line off for thirty consecutive days once a year. He hasn’t done that.”
“Why has the company been less profitable?” Matt asked.
“I’m not sure.” Bree stepped back from the bank statements to look at Beckett Construction’s financial statements. A number caught her eye. She skimmed backward through the pages. She’d been looking at individual monthly bank statements instead of the big financial picture. “The expense for plumbing doubled in the last two years, but gross income remained about the same.”
“Why would plumbing costs increase that significantly without a corresponding increase in revenue?” Matt set down the page he was reading and leaned over the desk. “Did he have one particular job with a plumbing disaster?”
“No. It’s spread out over time and jobs.” Bree pointed to the line item, and he pulled the corresponding bank statements for the first quarter. “Let’s take a look at the plumbers Paul used.”
Matt made a list and began researching. “This plumber doesn’t seem to exist. Or this one.”
Dana leaned over the papers on the desk. “How much of the plumbing expense went to those two companies in the first quarter?”
Matt grabbed his phone and opened his calculator app. “Almost half.”
“What about the fourth quarter of last year?” Dana asked.
“Same,” said Matt.
Bree drummed her fingertips on the desk. “So, Paul was paying two plumbers who don’t seem to exist.”
“Is it possible the companies operated under different names?” Dana asked.
Matt shrugged. “Holly did the books, and it was Paul’s company. Who else could we ask?”
“Deb Munchin?” Bree suggested. “She helped Holly with the accounts sometimes.”
Matt frowned. “Didn’t she say she went to Paul with questions and he wouldn’t answer?”
“She did.” Bree grabbed her phone and dialed Deb’s number. She explained her question.
“Funny you ask about that,” Deb said. “There were multiple plumbers assigned to several jobs. For most residential work, we usually use one plumbing subcontractor per job, unless something unusual happens. I thought someone messed up the invoices.”
“What did Paul say?” Bree asked.
Deb snorted. “He said to pay the fucking bills. If he wanted me to think, he’d let me know.”
Nice.
Bree highlighted the line item on the statement. “What do you think happened?”
“I think he was funneling money out of the business,” Deb said. “To cheat on his taxes and/or take the money out of play in his divorce. Knowing Paul, he would love the two-for-one aspect.”
“But the Becketts just split up a couple of months ago,” Bree said. “And Angela left Paul, not the other way around.”
“Paul planned everything.” Deb paused. “He knew exactly how to make her leave him. It wouldn’t surprise me if he started hiding money from Angela years ago.”
“Why would he do that?” Bree asked.
“So there would have been less in total assets to split. He reduced his salary over the past two years. If she sued him for alimony, his monthly income would also be lower, so he’d have to pay her less. The business was still profitable, but just enough to maintain his standard of living. Paul wouldn’t want to sacrifice his lifestyle.”
Bree ended the call and related Deb’s responses to Matt and Dana.
“According to Angela, Paul told her the company was having financial trouble,” Matt said. “But that could have been a lie. We need to follow the money. Pass me that laptop.”
“One minute.” Bree emailed Todd to request yet another subpoena to track the financial transactions. “It’s almost always about money. People are so predictable.” She hit “Send,” then handed the laptop over the desk to Matt.
He typed on the keyboard. “What do you want to do about the building inspector?”
Bree leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. The ibuprofen had eased her headache, but the pain radiating up her arm was growing tiresome. She wanted to put on her pajamas, take a pill, and go to bed. “I can’t think of any reason the building inspector would kill Paul. Why eliminate the source of your extra cash flow?”
“But it’s more evidence that Paul was engaged in illegal business practices.” Matt scrolled on the laptop touchpad.
Bree tapped the statements in front of her. “We have plenty of proof of that right here.”
He smiled. “And here.” He clicked the mouse. “Is your printer on?”
Bree reached behind her and switched on the machine. It whirred and spit out two pages. She plucked them off the tray. “What is this?”
“Guess who owns those two plumbing companies?” Matt asked.
Bree skimmed the printout from the NYS Department of State Division of Corporations Business Entity Database. She skipped down to the section that named the chief executive officer. “Noah Beckett.” She turned the page. “And the second company is registered to Timothy Beckett.”
Dana lowered the page she was scanning. “So, to summarize, Paul was probably guilty of bribing a building inspector, tax evasion, and hiding assets from his
wife.”
“But did Angela know?” Bree asked.
Matt lifted a shoulder. “If she did, it would give her more motivation to kill him.”
“She was already angry with Paul,” Bree pointed out.
“How much money went to those two fake plumbers over the last two years?” Matt asked.
“Close to a hundred thousand dollars.” Bree went back to the statement. “I know that’s a lot of money, but given Paul’s lifestyle, there must be more fake accounts. His net worth has dropped by over a million dollars.”
Matt set her laptop on the desk and closed the lid. He lifted his phone. “My sister should have answered my text by now.” Worry creased his forehead. He tapped his screen and put the phone to his ear. “She still hasn’t responded.” He picked another number. “Maybe her phone is dead. I’ll call Justin and see if she’s at the kennel.”
Bree could hear the faint sound of the line ringing.
Matt said, “Hey, Justin. Have you seen Cady?”
Bree couldn’t hear Justin’s answer.
Matt’s face grew grim. “Thanks.” He ended the call and swept a hand over his head. “Cady didn’t show up to feed the dogs, and she’s not answering her phone.”
He was already headed for the door. “Cady is always at the kennel at feeding time, and if she is going to be late, she calls for me or Justin to feed the dogs.”
“Give me one minute to grab my weapons.” Bree stood.
Matt opened his mouth.
She gave him a pointed look. “Do not tell me I should rest.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t. In fact, I was going to apologize for asking, but I need your help.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Bree started gathering papers to return to the murder book.
Dana held out her hand in a stop gesture. “Leave the financials with me. I’ll keep digging for more fake vendors.”
“Thanks.” Bree turned to Matt. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Matt stopped at home. He slammed the sheriff’s vehicle into park and jumped out. Bree was right behind him. Brody greeted Matt at the door.
Justin was in the kitchen, snapping a leash onto Greta’s collar. “I fed your dogs and took them outside. I was just going to take Greta for a walk. I know she gets antsy.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Matt grabbed Brody’s harness. As soon as he lifted it from its peg, the big shepherd’s body snapped to attention. “I’m taking Brody with me.”
Matt had debated driving straight to Cady’s house, but he was almost passing his own place on the way. Brody was an important tool, and Matt needed every bit of help he could get.
He had a terrible sensation in the pit of his stomach. Something was very wrong. He’d called his sister’s cell and left a message. He’d also texted her, just in case she was in an area with poor cell reception. He’d also called her landline. Nothing. It was not like her to be out of reach. Ever.
Matt transferred the dog’s ramp from his Suburban to the sheriff’s SUV. With his harness in place, the dog was all business. He knew. Bree sat quietly in the passenger seat. She hadn’t argued when he’d asked to drive. She could drive with one arm, but he could drive faster with two.
Matt pulled up at his sister’s one-story house. He could hear the muffled barking of Cady’s dogs. Her minivan sat in the driveway. He unfolded Brody’s ramp, and the dog jogged down to stand obediently at his side. The three of them walked to the front door. Inside the house, Cady’s dogs went ballistic. He tried the front door. It was unlocked.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. Cady lived in a nice neighborhood, but all the years he’d been a deputy, he’d hounded her about personal security. She never left her doors unlocked.
Scenarios ran through his head, each one more dire than the last. Had she fallen and hurt herself? Had she been burglarized?
Standing aside, Matt pushed the front door open. Bree drew her weapon. Cady’s dogs were gated in the back of the house. The Great Dane mix cowered at the rear of the pack, while the Chihuahua snapped and growled at the gate. The pit bulls simultaneously barked and wagged their tails.
With one wary eye on the dogs, Bree hung back at the front door. Matt told Brody to stay. The Great Dane gave one loud, deep bark. Bree stepped closer to Brody.
Matt stepped over the gate into the kitchen. “The big dogs are harmless. Watch the little one, though. He has a temper, and those little teeth are damned sharp.”
“I’ll wait here,” Bree said.
Matt scanned the kitchen. No Cady in there or the adjoining family room. The dogs’ water bowls were low. Someone, probably the Chihuahua, had peed on the floor. The pitties ran to the pantry and barked at the closed door.
“I don’t think they’ve been fed.” Worried, Matt collected stainless-steel bowls and dished out their food. The dogs practically inhaled their kibble. Matt cleaned the floor and wrote his sister a quick note so she would know her dogs had eaten if she returned. Then the dogs lined up at the back door. “I’m going to take the dogs out back and check the yard.”
“OK. I’ll check the rest of the house.” Bree turned and walked toward the short hall that led to the bedrooms.
“Brody.” Matt swept one hand toward Bree, and the big shepherd followed her. A six-foot fence surrounded Cady’s yard. She was not outside. The dogs did their business and ran back into the house. Matt tried the garage, but his sister wasn’t among the dog crates, pallets of food, and other supplies for her rescue organization.
Matt went back into the house. Bree and Brody came down the hallway. “She’s not in any of the bedrooms.”
Panic knotted in Matt’s gut. “I don’t like this. Cady would never be this late with her dogs’ dinner.” He pulled out his phone and called his brother. “I can’t find Cady. What time did she leave there?”
“Right after her class ended at six,” Nolan said. “I’ll call her kickboxing students in case she decided to go out for drinks with them.”
“Good idea.” But Matt didn’t believe Cady would have dropped her car at her home and not fed her dogs. Maybe he’d been wrong? Had he fed the dogs a second time?
“Maybe she’s out rescuing a dog,” Bree suggested.
“Her van is here.”
“Does she ever go in one of her volunteers’ vehicles?” Bree asked.
“I don’t know.” Matt pulled out his phone and called Maxine and Ralph, the two volunteers who worked with Cady at the rescue. “Neither of them has seen her.”
“What about your parents?” Bree prompted.
“I should have called them first. I’m not thinking straight.” Matt dialed his mom’s number.
“Matt.” His mother’s voice rang with pleasure.
“Hey, Mom. Is Cady there?”
“No.” His mom’s tone shifted to worried. “Why?”
“I’m looking for her. That’s all.”
“Don’t lie to me. That is not all,” she said in her schoolteacher voice.
Dad was a pushover, but Matt had never been able to hide anything from his mom. “She’s not home, but her minivan is,” he said.
“Did you try Maxine and Ralph?”
“Yeah. They haven’t seen her.”
Mom’s tone shifted to her most efficient. “What can I do?”
“Call her friends,” Matt said. “Call me back if you hear anything.”
“You do the same,” Mom said.
“I will.” Matt ended the call. Then he dialed his sister’s number again. The tinny sound of “Who Let the Dogs Out” drifted through the open front door. Matt ran toward it. Outside, he followed the music to the front flowerbed. Pushing aside an overgrown shrub, he saw Cady’s phone under the bushes.
He reached for it.
“Matt!” Bree said. “Use a glove.”
The thought that his sister’s phone might need to be fingerprinted tightened the knot in his belly. But he put on gloves and picked up the phone by the ed
ges. The screen was cracked. It must have bounced on the concrete walkway. He touched the screen, and the phone brightened.
Behind him, Bree and Brody walked the front yard with a flashlight, searching the grass. Matt was surprised to see Bree holding the dog’s leash. The dog lifted his nose, then lunged forward. Bree quickened her steps to keep up with him, and he led her toward Cady’s minivan.
Matt punched in his sister’s passcode and called up recent texts. They all seemed related to dog-rescue business.
Brody whined, a high-pitched and plaintive sound.
“Matt, over here!” Bree called from the driveway. He hurried over. She pointed her light at the driveway. Dark red spots colored the concrete. Blood. One was as large as Matt’s splayed hand—too big to have been caused by a trivial injury. Brody whined again.
Matt opened Cady’s recent calls and everything inside him went cold. “Guess who Cady called last?”
“Who?” Bree asked.
Brody pulled at the leash, and she held him back.
“Shannon Phelps.”
“What?”
Matt scrolled. “Cady actually called Shannon three times today. The first two calls were short. Maybe she hung up or left a brief message. The third call was a little before four o’clock and lasted nearly two minutes. She must have talked with Shannon. If she’d left a message, the call would have been shorter.” He paced a few feet away and back. “Cady saw Shannon’s name on a file I brought home the other night. Cady’s rescue placed that little dog with Shannon. Cady recognized her name.”
“And?”
“And she probably called her to ask how the dog was doing.” Matt’s brain whirled. “Cady is very empathetic. She felt awful about all the loss Shannon has suffered. Knowing Cady, she wanted to see if she could help.”
Bree stared back at him. “Shannon has an alibi for Paul’s death, but not for Holly’s.”
Drown Her Sorrows (Bree Taggert) Page 23
