“Mother, I don’t really think—” The voice startled Mary. A younger, mousier version of Gracie had stepped out to the patio.
“Hannah!” Gracie got up and gave her sister a hug.
Mary sized them up. The older, confident sister who’d escaped their mother and forged a new life. And the faded version with mousy brown hair, no makeup, and a pale lavender sack-like cotton dress, which did nothing to enhance her figure. For the first time, she noticed two toddlers clinging to Hannah’s skirt.
Janice spoke up. “I haven’t offered you girls anything—can I get you a drink? It’s nearly noon, if that counts for something. Hannah’s got some homemade juices and herbal teas in the kitchen, if that’s more your style.”
“I’d love a glass of water,” Mary said, curious to see which of the women would go inside to get it. With Hannah tied down on both sides, Janice bustled into the kitchen.
Gracie glanced toward the door and turned to her sister. “So, how is it really going?”
Hannah took a seat and herded her little ones onto her lap. “Sorry, the kids are a bit insecure. Not used to being here yet, and J-a-y isn’t helping the situation. Totally incommunicado. Mother, well, she’s … she’s Mother.”
“And moneywise?”
“Well, we’re not starving and as far as I know the electric bill’s being paid. We’ll see what happens when the divorce is final, but there won’t be much left for me to get a place for the three of us. We lived right up to the limit on credit cards every month.” Hannah glanced toward Mary and smiled. “I’m so sorry. You don’t want to get dragged into all that.”
“Not a problem. A year ago, I was in worse shape than this. By far.” Mary looked around at the lush garden and swimming pool, a far cry from the homeless shelter she’d been living in when she met Gracie and her friends.
“Really? You seem so … together. I hope …” Hannah sighed.
Janice came back outside, carrying a tray with two glasses of iced water, lemon slices floating in them. “I asked Maria to make some lunch for us. She does a wonderful chicken salad.”
Mary saw the incredulous look pass over Gracie’s face. Her mother couldn’t be in horrible financial straits if she still had her housekeeper. Family dynamics were interesting, she decided as she observed Gracie’s family over lunch. Topics skipped around from old friends—Janice seemed to think Gracie would remember all of her mother’s old country club crowd—to the upcoming holidays. Wasn’t it hard to believe Thanksgiving would be here in less than three weeks, and wasn’t the weather still beautiful for this late in the year?
No one mentioned the elephant in the room, the possible financial downfall of all three women. Mary wondered if that was because of her presence, but the more she observed the interaction—especially between Gracie and her mother—the more she decided they were a group that didn’t talk about the bad stuff until it was down upon them.
Janice was right. Maria’s chicken salad was wonderful, with dried cranberries and walnuts and a touch of something in the dressing—curry maybe? But the minute the plates were cleared, it became evident that Gracie couldn’t wait to get away.
Out in the car again, Mary retraced the route toward their hotel.
“You see what I mean? About my mother,” Gracie said. “One minute she’s whining about how the sky is falling … and then she entertains as if there’s not a care in the world. I don’t have any idea of her true financial picture.”
“But she came to you and Scott for money. It’s got to be worse than she lets on.”
“Yeah.” Gracie’s voice cracked. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter 18
Rob sailed into the office, buoyed by what he thought of as a night of wonder. His date had gone far better than he’d dreamed, and the woman—Cyndi, which he remembered only because she’d pointed out the unusual spelling—regularly flew in and out of LAX. She’d promised to call him the next time she overnighted here.
“Morning, Rob,” greeted his receptionist. Cute girl—all the women in Rob’s life were great looking. They had to be. But this one had the brain God gave a sparrow, which he’d realized the first time she messed up the simplest of filing tasks and it took him days to find some important paperwork. Maybe it was time to clean house around here. He rolled past, flashing a quick smile, and unlocked the door to his executive office.
Thoughts about Abby intruded. He’d been pissed and ready to get rid of her, too, last night when she’d showed up at his door, hinting at staying. That situation was a bit more touchy. As his right hand for the last two years, Abby knew a lot. Most importantly, she knew how Rob thought and what he expected in the business. It would take a long time to train someone else to handle all the little steps it took to put together these investor meetings.
But he was tired of the way she inserted herself into his private time. Sleeping with her had been a mistake. At first, the sex was fantastic, but recently her moves had become repetitive and those once-enticing little moans just grated on his nerves now. How was he going to handle this?
Thinking of the devil … She walked into his office without even tapping at the door.
“Good morning, handsome.” The sing-songy greeting every day was another thing that was bugging him nowadays.
“Hey Abbs.” He shoved the photo of the villa into a drawer and closed it casually.
“You look well rested. Looks like it was a good idea to stay home last night.”
If only you knew.
“You have time to go over the Arizona venue ideas?” She had a folder in hand and started to take a seat across the desk from him before he answered.
What if I didn’t? But before he could invent some excuse that would keep him in control of the meeting, she’d opened the folder and spread out several printed pages. Oh, what the hell.
“We could go with the Royale.” She pointed at a swath of lush green lawn leading up to a pale stucco building with impressive archways and red-tile accents. “Or there’s the Biltmore or the Grande Palms. They’re all five-star properties, even though none has the historic factor we found at The Breakers.”
“Great research,” he said, admitting even to himself just how good she was at this. “Let me look them over and I’ll let you know which one to book.”
She pushed the folder toward him and glanced at the half-open doorway. By the look in her eye, he knew exactly what she was thinking. Little make-out sessions in the office had become one of the perks of her working here. She glanced toward the knee space under the desk.
“Babe, wow. I’d love to, but I’ve got a call from Paramount coming in any minute now.”
“Ooh, it could be fun to watch you keep a straight face and talk to the guy while I’m giving you—”
“No! I mean, no, really … I can’t.” After six o’clock this morning, I actually can’t. “It’s an important call, plus you’re busy today, too.”
She pouted but there was a smile beneath it. She still had plans, he could tell.
“Close the door on your way out.”
She flashed him a resentful stare but he was still the boss, and she knew the importance of contact with the major studios.
Okay, how was he going to cover this? He wanted some time to himself. He needed a nap, but that wasn’t going to happen as long as Abby was here and felt it her right to walk into his office anytime she chose.
He picked up his cell phone and dialed the office’s landline. Lowering and roughening his voice, he said he was Cecil B. DeMille calling for Robert Williams. Bird-brain at the front desk actually buzzed his intercom line and announced Mr. DeMille’s call. God—seriously? He hoped Abby wasn’t standing right there, but he’d heard her clattering about with the file drawers in her own office.
He picked up line one and uttered a hearty greeting. As long as the light was lit on the panel at the reception desk, he was relatively safe from interruptions. Setting both phones aside, he glanced over the venue selections Abby had ch
osen. What did it matter? He could have let her pick one. Mainly, he wanted to get this next meeting done quickly. He was only a couple million shy of purchasing the villa and having enough banked away to set himself up in luxury and privacy.
Something nagged at him, something about one of the donors from Newport and how her money transfer had not gone through. He needed to check on that. Now what was her name?
He reached into the lower drawer in his desk, the place where he kept business cards with dollar amounts written on them. He was proud of his little bookkeeping system. What a perfect way to track donors and their contributions (he refused to think of them in terms of investors who would need to be repaid). No one, at a glance, would have a clue what the numbers meant. Every few weeks, he would revisit the box with their cards, call back those who had not given any money, put a little more pressure on them. One of these days, he needed to take the box of cards to the bank and stash them in his safe deposit box, away from prying government eyes.
Money, of course, was electronically transferred immediately to an account in Europe under a different corporate name. The signed contracts, which the donors didn’t get copies of, went into the shredder at home. Voila! No paper trail whatsoever.
He lifted the lid on the wooden box and stopped dead. It was empty.
“Abby!” he shouted, forgetting he was supposedly on the phone.
He quickly hung up the receiver when she opened the door.
“Have you been into my desk? This box?”
She seemed genuinely puzzled. “No. What’s in the box?”
“Nothing. Well, just some cards I was keeping track of.”
She shrugged. “No idea. I haven’t seen them.”
The fact that his inner office door was always locked whenever he was out meant none of the other part-timers had access. Not that they would dare poke around in his desk. He must have taken the cards to the bank after all. Things had been crazy right before Newport.
Abby was still standing there and he glanced up. “You need something?”
She came to some decision. He could see it on her face. “We need to talk.”
Oh shit. That phrase could mean a lot of things, none of them good. Please don’t let her announce she’s pregnant.
She stepped inside and closed the door. “Rob, we’ve been working together quite awhile, and we’ve been a couple more than a year. I, um, well, I’d like a commitment. I was hoping Newport might have included a special occasion …”
He pretended not to understand what she was getting at, buying himself a moment to think.
“You’re not preg—”
“Oh, heavens no! I’m more careful than that.” She actually laughed a little.
Think, Rob, think!
“Well, we’re fairly well committed here already, but I think I can see my way to upping your salary and your bonus rate.”
The smile stayed on her face for only a nano-second, then her eyes froze. “Robert Williams, I’m asking if you’ll marry me.”
Huh … why hadn’t he seen this coming? Okay, what to say now?
“I think the look of shock on your face and the lengthy pause is my answer. Am I right?”
“Abbs, it’s just—”
“No one answers a marriage proposal with ‘it’s just’ unless they’re squirming out of it.” Tears welled in her eyes. Great. “I love you, Rob, and I’ve worked my tail off for you …”
“I know, I know,” he said, stepping around the side of his desk. A hug, a kiss—those usually fixed anything—but she backed away.
“I want to marry you, and you’re offering me more money—do you know how that feels?”
He went blank. More money always felt pretty good to him.
“I’m done.” Her voice was flat, but her eyes sparked with fire. “I am so done. Organize your own parties and find someone else to talk about what a wonderful guy you are. I can’t do it.”
He had a feeling his mouth was hanging open as she walked out, slamming the door.
Chapter 19
Their room had been cleaned when Mary and Gracie arrived back at the hotel.
“So. What have we really accomplished?” Gracie asked, tossing her purse onto her bed. “Other than touching base, seeing Mom and Hannah didn’t really tell me anything about what’s going on.”
“Janice seemed a bit in a dither about what she’ll do if she doesn’t get her money back from Williams. That could be worrisome.”
“One thing I’ve learned about my mother, over the years. Don’t go into a panic just because she does. I wish I’d remembered that advice when she hit me up and we raided our savings to help her out. Her situation is still going to come to a head, only now I’m in the midst of it.”
Gracie’s phone pinged with a message from Amber. You two up for a meeting? I’ve got the gang here.
She replied an affirmative and opened her video chat app. Propping the phone upright on the room’s small table, she and Mary took seats facing it. In a few seconds, Amber, Pen, and Sandy appeared where they had gathered around Amber’s computer screen. Gracie could picture the tiny off-campus apartment jammed with electronic gadgets and friends.
Amber started the conversation. “So … dish! What’s going on out there? Is Hollywood super glamorous? Have you seen movie stars on every corner?”
Gracie and Mary both laughed. Mary spoke up. “Well, it’s greener than Phoenix—otherwise, the palm trees and oleander look about the same as ours. The movie stars don’t seem to hang out on the corners, and I guess we haven’t gone upscale enough to find out which restaurants they go to.”
“We’ve talked with Abby Singer. There seems to be a little trouble in paradise with them as a couple,” Gracie said.
“Oh, and this girl—” pointing at Gracie “—is getting pretty darn good with lock picks. She’s gotten us into both Rob Williams’s office and his house.”
“I bet that’s really something to see,” Sandy said.
“Well, not so much. We were both surprised. His house is just really average, and the office isn’t a prestigious address.” They went on to fill in the Ladies with more details.
“Do we have anything to back up what he says in his presentations?” Pen asked.
“I noticed lots of photos of him with celebrities,” Mary said. “It could mean they’ve done business together … it could just mean he’s attended some trendy parties and managed to get himself photographed a lot.”
“What about paperwork? Contracts with any of these stars?”
“Nothing. I swear, the man keeps nothing in writing,” Gracie said. “In that whole office there were no file cabinets, no drawers filled with folders.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. A contract with a big-name star is going to be negotiated through his or her agent, and it’s got to be a pretty detailed document, something signed in triplicate or some such, with each party getting copies. Those contracts have to exist somewhere.” Pen’s voice had become no-nonsense. “I’ve had a book optioned for film, and if the negotiations had ever become serious, there would have been a lot of paperwork. I’ll make a few calls and see what I can learn.”
“All I can figure is that everything is on his computer,” Gracie said.
“Which we were very tempted to take, but we’re trying to draw the line about breaking the law.”
“Well, kind of. We did get past several sets of locks,” Gracie reminded. “The one thing I did take was a stack of business cards I found in a box in one desk drawer.” She went on to describe them and how they had added up the small handwritten numbers on the back of each one.
“Twenty million dollars!” Sandy looked as if she might fall out of her chair.
All three in the Phoenix group were a little slack-jawed at the news.
“This could well be the best clue yet,” Pen said. “You said you called one of those people and his investment amount agreed with the number written on the card. So, if the police were to contact others and get similar
stories …”
“While we’re out here, should we contact the police?” Mary asked. “Do you all think we’re ready?”
Sandy looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. We’ve got some good evidence. Pen’s contract and those business cards—providing the rest of them check out as investors who were never repaid—Janice’s testimony … The video from the presentation is a little iffy, but it would support the rest of the stories. If we just had a way to track the money, find out where it’s gone.”
“It doesn’t sound as if he’s spending the money on luxurious living for himself,” Pen said. “That’s the first thing I would have expected you to find—that he lives in some mega mansion or his offices are over-the-top posh.”
“So, if he’s not spending the money on his own lifestyle, where’s it going?” Mary challenged. “Somehow, I don’t see him supporting the homeless or funding a charity. The man we saw giving that razzmatazz presentation does not seem like the type.”
Gracie gripped Mary’s arm. “That big villa—the picture we saw in his briefcase. Do you think …?”
Amber spoke up. “Let me get on the money angle and the big house. Did you guys grab the picture of the big house? I need something to go on.”
“Unfortunately, no. I’d just spotted it when he came home.”
“Okay, never mind. I’ll see if I can locate real estate records. You said you think it was in Italy or France?”
It wasn’t much to go on—they all realized it.
“Meanwhile, we could stay out here a couple more days if that would be helpful,” Gracie said. “We’ll put together the evidence we have, if you can email us a copy of your contract, Pen, and we’ll see if we can find the right person to talk to with law enforcement here.”
“What we need is an insider, someone who worked for him and knows where the dirt is, someone who is open to talking about the whole scheme,” Sandy said.
Gracie and Mary exchanged a look. Abby Singer.
“We know where she works and where she goes for drinks afterward. She might be a possibility.” Mary remembered Abby’s disenchantment with Rob the day before.
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