You Again

by Val Tobin

  “I’m thinking we need to find out what those meetings are for and who’s going to show up.”

  “We’re not going to Las Vegas,” she said, but her voice betrayed her doubt.

  “We’re going to Las Vegas, baby.”

  “We can’t. Whoever she was meeting could be her killer.”

  “That’s why we have to go. Besides, that doesn’t track. She already knew her killer, and he’s in Toronto—likely lives here, partnered with her in the thefts. In Vegas, she wanted to find a company to invest in to clean her dirty money.”

  Ellen pushed her chair away from her desk and stood up. “Or they’re in on it with her and taking a cut of the money she’d bring in. Detective Morris can go.”

  “What’s he going to find out? If you’re right, they’ll take one look at the detective, clam up, and leave town. We’ll never see them again. Besides, isn’t this a jurisdictional thing? He wouldn’t be able to do squat there. It’s not even his country, never mind his province—state—whatever.”

  “We can’t do this. It’s too risky. And he can ask the police there to cooperate with his investigation.”

  “I’m going, Ellen. Come with me. We could use a trip. We’ll make it a vacation. Two of those days she’s booked off are on a weekend. Besides, maybe Morris will catch the killer by then, and we’ll only be finding out she had some side business. We’ll probably be safer there than we are here with a killer on the loose.”

  “You think she might have wanted to start a side business in Las Vegas?”

  “Not start one but find one there. BRI has a table there. She might’ve talked her way into representing the company at the show, except I terminated her employment so that was no longer an option. That means she planned to go for her own reasons.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Someone is still ripping off this company. She’s set up automatic withdrawals, and they’re still collecting.”

  “I haven’t seen anything like that, but I’ll take a closer look tomorrow.”

  “Take a closer look right now. Let’s open up the database and find out if KatTech is in there. I can’t help associating the ‘Kat’ with Katrina,” he said.

  Ellen nodded. “That was my first thought too.” She sat in her chair again and pulled up close to the desk. She accessed the database again and continued the search for any instance of KatTech.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  They didn’t find KatTech in the database, so they both concluded it could be a name Francesca planned to use for her money laundering company.

  “For someone so young, she sure took a lot of steps to destroy her life. Did she really think she’d get away with this long-term?” Ellen asked as she shut down the computer.

  “White-collar criminals don’t think about getting caught. Yeah, she likely figured she’d get away with it for as long as she wanted to. There’s a good chance she’d have done this somewhere else after she left here.” He contemplated a moment, then asked, “If I wouldn’t have asked you to examine the previous years’ files, would you have?”

  “You mean as a matter of course?” Would she have dug into this if she hadn’t been given the order to do so? “Yes, because when I worked here, BRI wasn’t hemorrhaging money. I’d have needed to know what caused a downturn after so many profitable years.”

  “So, she’d have been found out either way.”

  “Yes, but if you hadn’t hired me to do this, another person might not have done so.”

  “Except that whether I hired you, specifically, or not, I wanted the accounts examined.”

  Ellen nodded. “Because you were a client here and knew the company’s history. Do you think whoever killed Fran realized all that and wanted to silence her before she was found out and arrested? If she were arrested, she’d have implicated her partners to cut a deal, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I think. It’s what we’ve suspected all along. These plans don’t indicate a woman about to take her own life.”

  “No. I guess we’d better book a trip to Las Vegas.” The prospect of four days in a warmer place suddenly sounded like the perfect escape from not only the cold and snow in Ontario but also the murder investigation. Unless the killer had been part of the plan to find an investment. But if that were the case, they might flush him out and identify him for the police.

  “We’d have to be careful.”

  Gabriel smiled. “I’m always careful.”

  ***

  With approval from Zach, Ellen copied some of Francesca’s more interesting files and would take them to the office the next day to see if any of the account numbers she’d found matched accounts listed as suppliers or contractors in the ledger at BRI. When Zach asked her if she’d found anything revealing, she didn’t hesitate to tell him the bad news.

  “Your income for the last three years you filed was much less than Fran’s. Her salary appears to be boosted by a side business she claims as consulting income, but even that doesn’t explain all the money you’ve spent when I look at the purchases you’ve made. She drew funds from somewhere else but didn’t claim it if it was acquired during those tax periods. It’ll take me a while to investigate this and figure out how it ties to BRI and their inflated expenses. It’s a breadcrumb trail I’ve got to follow, but she’s done a good job of covering her tracks.” She took his hands in hers. “I’m sorry, Zach, both for your loss and for the problems Fran left you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He invited them to stay for a drink, but all Ellen wanted to do was escape from the whole awkward situation. Gabriel, however, accepted the offer, and Zach poured Ellen a glass of red wine and got a beer for himself and Gabriel. When they were all seated, Ellen perched on the edge of the sofa with a solid grip on her wineglass.

  Zach said, “Thanks for staying. It’s tough to be here alone. All I do is think about her, and then instead of grieving, I get angry at what she caused.”

  “That’s understandable,” Gabriel replied.

  “She loved you,” Ellen added, relieved now they’d stayed because she could finally say something good about Francesca. “She talked about you all the time when we worked together. I’m so sorry she wasn’t the person you thought she was, but for what it’s worth, she loved you a lot. I wish I could’ve stopped her from doing this, but I had no idea she intended to steal.” When something occurred to her, she added, “We didn’t find any indication she’s done this before. What changed for her, or for you guys, three years ago that might’ve triggered her decision?”

  Zach thought about it. “Well, she lost her job, but it didn’t faze her. At least, she showed no indication it bothered her at all. She’d been working at that company for over six years and wanted to sue for more severance, but it didn’t work out. The lawyer told her she hadn’t been working there long enough to make a lawsuit worthwhile, and they’d given her a generous severance. Maybe that angered her enough she decided she’d never give her loyalty to another company again. I know she was angry they cut her loose even though, from a business perspective, it was the right decision for the company.”

  “That’s all it was? Resentment at having been let go?”

  Zach shook his head. “I can’t say. Whatever she thought about the situation, she didn’t share it with me—not the truth, obviously. She complained, she tried to take action against them—and Fran always felt the need to act, to do something. She hated not being in control of her life.”

  “Everyone hates that feeling of being out of control in life, but it’s something you have to accept,” Ellen said. “Was she the vengeful type?”

  “No, and this wouldn’t be revenge because BRI didn’t lay her off. If everything you say is true, she stole from them before Gabriel bought the place and let her go.”

  “Was she angry and resentful about that?” Gabriel asked, looking uncomfortable. “I gave her a substantial package.”

  “You did, and I appreciated that. I thought she did too. She seemed
satisfied with it.”

  “She apply for any new jobs?”

  “No. She said she had an idea for going into business for herself.”

  Ellen thought about the trip to Las Vegas. Francesca had booked that before she was let go from BRI, so perhaps she’d wanted to quit her job anyway. Rumours of the buyout must’ve circulated, and she would’ve acted on those rumours if she was as proactive as Zach had claimed. Then, wouldn’t her co-conspirator—or co-conspirators—have also expected the layoff? They’d have prepared for it, probably adjusting any sketchy transactions Francesca hadn’t closed off.

  The problem was, Ellen didn’t know when Fran saw the end of her BRI career looming and started covering her tracks. This would make the search for evidence more difficult but not impossible. The trip to Las Vegas was critical.

  Anxious now to leave, Ellen steered the conversation to saying goodnight to Zach, and the couple headed to Gabriel’s apartment. At home, they firmed up their plans for Las Vegas over a cup of tea before bed. Gabriel said he’d put in a formal request to Carol to send Ellen to the trade show with him, and he’d pay all the expenses.

  “She’ll say yes to that, considering you’d also have to pay for any billable hours I spend there.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll make the arrangements, and you track your hours and submit them to your company. But I want to book the flight, the hotel, and get our passes for the trade show.” He slanted her a look. “I think it would be best if we shared a room while there.”

  “Do you now?” She straightened her back and swivelled to face him.

  He held a hand up in protest. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s possible the killer will be there. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  She took a small sip of her tea. “I can take care of myself.”

  “It won’t be a problem,” he replied. “We’ll stick together. Always. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  When his phone rang, he glanced at the call display.

  “My dad,” he told her.

  She almost told him to say “hi,” but she didn’t want to betray her resentment over living with Gabriel, no matter how temporarily, and still not having met any of his family. Instead, Ellen rose and went into the bedroom to get ready for bed so the man she loved could have his privacy.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The moment the bedroom door closed behind Ellen, Gabriel answered the call.

  “How can I help you, Dad?”

  “Funny you should ask,” his father replied, humour colouring his voice. “I’ve got an exciting proposition for you.”

  Gabriel’s lips twisted into a frown. The last time his father had sounded this jovial, he’d sent Gabriel to London. He waited, letting his father take his time getting to whatever it was he wanted now.

  “You liked London, didn’t you? Had a great time? Well, guess what?”

  Gabe opened his mouth to respond, but his father didn’t give him the chance.

  “You’re going back. I’ve taken over a small company there, and I want you to return and get it running at a profit.”

  Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, but once again, his father bulldozed over him.

  “I know what you’re going to say. You just bought this company and you’re trying to get it going. It’s your thing, and you’re great at it, which is why I want you back in London. Get someone to run BRI, and you can fly back every month or so to make sure he’s doing all right.” Finally, Charles Duncan paused, and his son jumped into the conversation.

  “Dad, I’m not leaving here. I’m getting my life back. I got my girlfriend back. I won’t leave again.”

  “Get your priorities straight. I need you in London.”

  “What about Rick?” Gabriel asked, referring to his younger brother.

  “Great idea. Rick would be perfect to run BRI for you. Get things in order there—you’d need, what? Three more months? Then, turn it over to Rick, and go to London. My deal won’t close until six months from now anyway. You don’t need to leave immediately.”

  How considerate. Gabriel’s jaw clenched. To end the conversation, he said, “I’ll think about it, Dad.”

  After disconnecting the call, Gabriel did just that but without making a decision. When he finally joined Ellen in the bedroom, she was already asleep, much to his relief. He wasn’t prepared to mention the phone call to her.

  We’ll have that conversation when I’ve figured out my priorities. As soon as the thought left his head, he froze. What was worse: telling Ellen his father wanted him back in London or admitting to himself he’d just sounded exactly like his father?

  ***

  Snow fell on the mid-December morning Gabriel and Ellen went to the airport to catch their flight to Las Vegas but not enough to delay the flight. The last few days had been hectic and unfruitful. She still searched Francesca’s accounts without finding definitive proof of how and to where she’d funnelled the money though Ellen sensed she was getting closer. All she had to do was locate the numbered accounts that matched account numbers Francesca’s funds transferred from, but it wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Francesca had covered the evidence well, and in the last few weeks of her employment, the rate of transfers had dropped significantly.

  Yet Zach’s heavy bills continued to get paid, and even he didn’t know from where the money came. He’d listed his apartment for sale, eager to get rid of it for many reasons but mainly because it was a constant reminder of Francesca’s illegal activities.

  As Gabriel and Ellen waited for the plane to get clearance for takeoff, she studied her nearby fellow passengers. From the moment she and Gabriel had arrived at the gate, she’d tried to determine if anyone boarding their plane looked familiar or noticed the BRI couple.

  They had booked the same flight Francesca would’ve taken. If her partner had killed her, it was possible he—or she—sat on this very flight. The prospect that the killer could be on the plane with them filled Ellen’s stomach with butterflies, but so far, no one raised her suspicions.

  “He could’ve taken a different flight,” Ellen whispered to Gabriel. The two sat in first-class seats, and as each person boarded, she watched them closely as they passed by. No one looked either familiar or suspicious.

  “Who?” he whispered back.

  “Fran’s partner.”

  “If he’s smart, he won’t go at all,” he replied.

  “And lose the deal they were going to make?”

  “Deals come and go. There’ll be other trade shows. If he shows up in Vegas, we’ll recognize him, or Morris will check flight schedules and cross-reference them with his suspect list—which we’re probably still on.”

  “What?” His words sent a wave of shock through her.

  “He won’t trust we’re in the clear. Fran was killed in the middle of the day. I have an alibi for some of that time, but for much of that day, I was working from home—alone.”

  This was the first Ellen had heard that, and a surge of fear followed the shock.

  Gabriel isn’t a killer, she reminded herself and shook off the thought he might have lured her to Las Vegas to kill her. Otherwise, she’d run screaming from the plane. He didn’t have an alibi for Katrina’s death either. As a matter of fact, he’d been in the apartment with her. The plane suddenly felt icy, and Ellen shivered.

  “Did you tell Detective Morris we were leaving the country?” Ellen asked. She should’ve done that herself.

  “Yes. It’s fine.”

  “Did you tell him why?”

  “I told him we were attending a trade show.”

  “But not that we were following up in case Fran was meeting her partner here or investing to launder her money?”

  “Of course not. Not without proof of that. The last thing we need is a cop following us out here.” He squinted at her, examining her expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She averted her eyes and q
uieted as the plane taxied along the runway, picked up speed, and then lifted off the ground. She always hated takeoffs and landings. Statistically, these were the most dangerous times during the flight, but she never relaxed enough during any part of a flight to enjoy it. All she wanted now was the bar cart to come around.

  Gabriel didn’t let it drop. “Something’s bothering you. I can tell.”

  “I’m nervous. You should know that about me. I hate flying.”

  “Okay,” he said, “I’ll buy that.” But his dubious expression told her he didn’t.

  By now, though, she’d come to her senses—at least, she assured herself she’d come to her senses. How could Gabriel be the killer? He’d never met Francesca, and if he’d been her partner in crime, he’d never have fired her. She’d still be doing the books at BRI.

  Unless he fired her and killed her because her theft was becoming noticeable by putting the company under financial strain. Again, she dismissed the notion. None of that made sense. Gabriel wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t doggedly have Ellen investigate the accounts if he were behind the whole thing.

  She took his hand, guilt making her want to atone for her disloyal thoughts. He threw her a startled glance and then relaxed into a smile that warmed her heart.

  He has nothing to do with this. How could I even consider it? Having him back in her life had been wonderful despite the problems they’d faced. It wasn’t his fault Francesca had stolen from the company and that someone had murdered her.

  And Katrina. Someone had also murdered her, and Ellen had yet to understand how the young woman related to this mess. Ellen had dug into BRI’s payments to the software developer, and none of them had been suspiciously large. She’d also looked up Katrina’s home address and discovered she rented a small one-bedroom apartment just north of Toronto. If she was spending ill-gotten gains, it didn’t show anywhere Ellen could see.

  She relaxed, as much as she could relax on a flight, when the bar cart appeared and the flight attendant gave her the red wine she ordered. Gabriel accepted a whisky. The flight would last roughly five hours, arriving in Las Vegas shortly after noon Nevada time.