A young-sounding female picked up. “Intrepid Dog Pictures, Aspen speaking.”
“Is Mr. Robert Williams in, please? It’s Lily Nightingale, the romance author. Ah’m researchin’ a new book and would love some information from him.”
Sandy could barely contain her laughter. Pen had to turn away and not look at her friend’s face.
“Oh. Well, Mr. Williams is out of the office the rest of the week. May I take a message?”
“Oh dear. Perhaps someone else can help—who is next in charge there?”
“Abby—um, no. Sorry. Otherwise, there’s just me right now, and I really only answer the phones.”
“Is there somewhere Mr. Williams might be reached?”
“He’s in Phoenix right now, checking out some meeting venues, and I’m afraid I can’t give out his cell number. But if you’ll leave a message—”
“That’s all right, honey. Ah’ll just call back next week.” Pen clicked off the call before the girl could ask anything more.
“I heard that. Phoenix. He’s right here.” Sandy was practically squirming in her seat.
“Yes, well, right here among nearly four million people,” Pen observed.
“How about this,” Sandy said. “How about we infiltrate his business? He has no executive assistant right now, and I’ll bet he’s missing Abby, big time.”
“Most likely.” Pen was looking sideways at her.
“Think about it. There are only a handful of places here in the valley that are near the caliber of the place you described. Well, none quite that fancy, but a few he might choose from. My guess is that he’s going to target a Scottsdale crowd, maybe some of those wealthy retirees who’ve settled in Pinetop or Paradise Valley. He’ll choose a place nearby.”
“What are you saying?” Pen asked.
“Let me do it! Please. I don’t get that many chances to leap into the thick of things, and I could do this without having to schedule vacation days from the bank. I’ll … well, I’m not sure, but I’ll think of something.”
“You’re certain about this?”
“Yes. Think about it. I have years of management and executive experience. Dealing with snooty people at the bank can’t be that different from dealing with them in a resort or hotel or whatever sort of venue he has in mind. My entire job is details—and with Abby gone now, that’s what Rob needs.”
Pen thought about it as she picked up the check their server had left beside her plate. “Why not? You truly would be a perfect fit, it seems.”
Sandy beamed. She grabbed her own check and the two went up front to pay.
Two hours later, back at her desk at the bank, she phoned Pen. “I’ve found him.”
“That was quick. Where is he?”
“The Royale. It was so simple. I just called around, using the story that I was with Intrepid Dog Pictures and my boss, Robert Williams, had left his cell phone behind at the office. I knew he had to make a last-minute hotel change but he hadn’t let me know where he’d checked in. I finally got the one where he is. They rang his room, but he didn’t answer. I’m heading over there now. If he’s not in his room when I get there, he’ll have to walk through the lobby at some point and I’ll catch him. Easy peasy.”
Easy? Pen withheld comment. She only hoped the whole ruse would work.
Chapter 23
“Argh … I can’t wait to get back home,” Gracie muttered under her breath to Mary. “It’s as if my mother’s shadow is hanging over all of Southern California.”
They were sitting in a waiting area in the main L.A.P.D. headquarters. The morning had begun with a trek to the nearest community station where they were told they needed to go higher up. The crime they described was grand larceny because of the amount of money lost and would be handled by the Major Crimes Division. Ninety minutes in traffic hadn’t improved Gracie’s mood a bit.
Mary patted her hand. “Don’t stress. We have our luggage with us in the car, Southwest has flights all day long. All we need to do is turn over the evidence we have and explain the crime. The police will take it from there.”
“Ya think?” Gracie’s expression went from miserable to skeptical.
Mary couldn’t help it; she started chuckling, and Gracie couldn’t resist. They were both laughing when a man approached.
“Mrs. Nelson? Ms. Holbrook? I’m detective Roy Mason—Major Crimes Division.” He looked like a cop who hadn’t chased down a bad guy in at least twenty years, one who had a dozen-donut-a-day habit. His smile was tired and his loafers run down at the heels. But his chinos were neatly pressed, the button-down shirt stain free, and his tie was only slightly crooked. He offered coffee—which both women declined—on the way to a cubicle at the end of a long, noisy hallway.
Gracie and Mary edged their way into the two chairs in front of his desk.
“Now. What can I help you with?” he propped his elbows on the desk in an imitation of someone who was truly interested.
Gracie, as designated spokesperson, began with the story of her mother’s meeting and subsequently investing with Robert Williams of Intrepid Dog Pictures.
“Investment fraud really isn’t normally our thing—just too hard to prove intent to defraud. Nearly all investments are risky, to some degree. Have you talked to an attorney, one who specializes in contracts and the language?”
“We have reason to believe—in fact, we know—that Mr. Williams’s fraudulent activities go much farther than just my mother’s case, farther than the state of California. Last week he was in Newport, Rhode Island, pulling the same scam, and right now he’s planning another of his ‘investment opportunities’ in the Phoenix area.”
Roy Mason sat up a little straighter. “What evidence do you have?”
Mary pulled out the rubber-banded stack of business cards, the copy of Pen’s contract, and the copy Amber had made of the video from the night at The Breakers. Item by item, they explained to Mason the significance of each.
“We got Rob Williams’s administrative assistant to admit that he’s never actually made a movie with the money he collected from all these people.”
Gracie pulled out her phone and played the conversation she’d recorded with Abby the previous afternoon. Unfortunately, the quality was terrible—too much background noise in the bar, and Abby’s slurred speech didn’t help either.
“Sorry, I should have listened to it before we came,” she told the detective. She started to put the phone away.
“Not yet,” he said. “Sometimes our lab can isolate parts of recordings, cut out the extra background noise and such. Let me have one of our guys make a copy, okay?”
Before she could respond, he’d picked up his phone and called someone elsewhere in the building. “Barry will be here in a second.”
The sound technician took Gracie’s phone away. While they waited for him to return it, Mason shuffled the documents around on his desk and reviewed everything the women told him—all they knew about Pen’s and Janice’s experiences, plus the calls they’d made to a few of the investors on the business cards.
“You understand that each of these victims would have to give his or her own statement? Out of state or not, they’d have to show up here to testify in court.” He was scribbling notes on a yellow pad.
Gracie nodded. She felt sure Pen would be willing, had no idea what Janice would say or how she would present herself in court. It was one thing to nag the ear off your daughter, another to show up in a public place and admit to having been fleeced.
Barry came back after about ten minutes, his expression blank. “Not sure how much I can do with this one. It’s pretty distorted.” He saw the disappointment on Gracie’s face. “But we’ll do the best we can.”
“Okay then,” Mason said, after the young technician had left. “We’ll look into it.”
He stood, and it was clear the meeting was over. Gracie felt numb as she and Mary walked out to the parking lot.
“Look into it? I don’t even know what that mean
s,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat of their rental. “Do you think we’ll ever hear anything at all?”
Mary paused before starting the car. “I don’t know, sweetie. All I can say is, I don’t envy you having to tell your mother.”
“Maybe I can stall her. Or maybe I’ll just give her that cop’s phone number. She can follow up.”
Mary wished her luck with the plan and headed toward the airport.
Chapter 24
“What the f—” Rob felt his blood pressure rise as he took aim to throw his phone into the swimming pool. At the last second, he caught himself and turned the screen to face him so he could reread the text message. “This cannot be. There’s no way I’m over my credit limit.”
There were actually two messages, the automated text alert from the bank and, as he discovered when he noticed the voicemail, one from the hotel saying his dinner charges last night had been declined.
“Well, too bad about that,” he said with a grin. “I already ate the food, and I’ll bet you buzzards don’t want me to return it.”
Still, it was a problem. He’d only brought two cards with him; the rest were locked in his safe at home. His personal card was always near the limit. He only paid the minimum each month because somewhere in the back of his mind was a day in the future when he would bail, leave the States and to hell with MasterCard. His corporate card had a high limit and he knew he’d not come close to using all of it, even with the Newport and Scottsdale trips.
He tapped the phone screen and it dialed the number from the text message, the one that said ‘If you believe this message is in error …’ There had to be a mistake—he would get it straightened out.
The female who answered was easy enough to charm for the first five minutes, and once he’d given all the security clues she wanted, she agreed to check the charges on the account.
“Yes, I do see some hotel charges in Rhode Island, airport purchases for food … and I do see that the hotel in Scottsdale has placed a preliminary hold for what must be a few nights.”
“Right. So what’s put the whole thing over the limit?” His voice had lost its charisma.
“There are some charges yesterday and the day before in Beverly Hills. A Louis Vuitton, something at Prada …”
She got no further.
“What the hell? I’m in Arizona—even you can see that. Who the shit’s charging stuff in California?” The answer hit him. “Abby—that little bitch! She can’t be doing this!”
“Are you saying there’s fraud?”
“Hell yes, there’s fraud! I’m going to—”
But she’d put him on hold. The bank’s irritating non-stop blather about all their wonderful services played in his ear. Shit.
“Mr. Williams, thank you so much for holding.”
Against my will.
“I’ve brought up copies of the charges in question, and it appears those in California for the past two days were signed by an A. Singer. And, as I’m looking at your account record … there is an Abigail Singer shown as an authorized user for this card. Her position is stated as administrative assistant. Is that correct?”
“No! She quit. Walked out.”
“I see, sir. In that case, her name should have been removed from the account.”
“Yeah. So, do it.”
“I can take care of that for you now, sir, although I cannot remove the charges currently on the account. What we’ll need to do, since she is in possession of her card, is to close out this account and send you a new card. It will arrive in the mail, at your address of record, in seven to ten business days.”
“NO! Not acceptable!” How the hell had this become so complicated? “Listen, you little—”
“Sir—sir! If you resort to profanity I will be forced to end this call.”
“No way, bitch. No—” He stopped. The line was dead.
Dammit—taking care of details like this was exactly the sort of thing Abby did for him. He didn’t have time for this b.s. This time he did throw the phone—just not toward the pool. It bounced once and landed at the feet of a blonde lady in the lounge chair next to his.
“Problem with the bank?” she asked, handing the phone back.
He looked at her for the first time. She was probably in her late forties, a little heavyset, good haircut and subdued makeup, wearing capris and a flowing top with a big straw hat and sunglasses. Corporate woman on vacation, he guessed.
“You heard, huh?” he felt a little sheepish comparing his outburst to her calm demeanor.
She smiled with genuine humor. “I think everyone around the whole pool heard.”
He almost got up to stalk away.
“I have some experience in banking. Believe me, you aren’t the first guy to lose his cool over the rules and procedures the call center people have to follow.” She stuck a finger in her magazine to hold her place. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Probably not, unless you just happen to work for Federal Trust Bank in California.”
“Well, it’s a thought, although I was hoping to find something other than banking for awhile. Kind of tired of that particular routine,” she said. “I’ve recently left my management position, and I’m just looking around.”
“Management, huh?” Hey, if she could manage a bank, she surely could manage the details of his life. “Would you consider becoming administrative assistant to a film producer? We get to rub some classy elbows in this business.”
He flashed her the famous Rob Williams smile, but toned it down from the sexy version that had worked so well with Abby. On the spot, he decided he was done with hiring babes. They fell for him every time, and it just got too complicated. This one looked more like he imagined his older sister would be, solid and steady and knowledgeable.
“Let me think about it,” she said with a glance at her watch. “I’ve got a spa appointment now but maybe we could discuss the job again later?”
“Sure. I’ll spring for dinner,” he said, belatedly remembering he wasn’t sure how he would cover it. “What’s your name?”
“Sandy. Sandy Werner.” She gathered her belongings, shook his hand, and walked into the women’s dressing room.
Chapter 25
“It was all I could do not to shout ‘yes’ the minute he offered the job,” Sandy told Pen on the phone that night. “But I’m glad I played it cool. He was practically begging me to help him, once we met over drinks. I adapted my expertise to fit exactly what Abby did, all based on what the rest of you have described about his operation. It was a great help, having those bits of the insider view.”
“That’s brilliant. When do you start?”
“First thing in the morning. Well, apparently, an early morning for Rob begins at ten. But I told him I would work on the banking mess with his corporate credit card early and have some answers for him when we get together to start the day. It’s not a big deal at all. Federal Trust Bank has already cancelled his old card and issued a new one—I got that much by listening to his battle with the call center. All I need to do is get the new card number, expiration—all the pertinent data—and he can begin using it. I speak banking lingo well enough to accomplish that much.”
“Wonderful idea to impress the boss on your first day,” Pen observed.
Sandy laughed. “The boss. How weird to think of Rob Williams that way. At least I do think he’ll be relieved that he can cover his hotel bill and keep on with business as usual.”
“Meanwhile, be sure to find out what he has in mind for this next investor party he’s planning. If it’s to be here in Arizona …”
“I’m on it, and I definitely plan to make sure Scottsdale is the choice. While he thought I was in the spa this afternoon I looked up the event planner here at the hotel, a Cicely Bradshaw. Nice lady. Very professional and she likes working with people who are quick and decisive, a comment she made when I told her I’d just come onboard with Rob Williams’s company because of my event planning experience. Do
you suppose organizing the bank’s Christmas party counts? Oh well—she bought it.”
“You weren’t worried that Rob would check in with Ms. Bradshaw and realize you talked with her before you were actually hired?”
“A little … but once I met her I could see how she would intimidate a guy like Rob. She’s completely no-nonsense, while he comes across as a spoiled little boy in comparison. This evening when he and I talked about the job, he was more than happy to let me handle everything with ‘the little tyrant’ as he described her.”
“Woo—not much respect for women, has he?”
“Very little. So far, he’s been very deferential with me, but I have a feeling it’s because at this point he needs me more than I need him. I’m not kidding myself—the attitude could do a whole turnaround very quickly.”
“Well, be careful. Abby saw a more ruthless side of him, apparently, and I witnessed his sparkling personality turn a tad sour during my meeting in his boiler-room. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
Sandy went to bed with those words in her head.
* * *
Rob Williams sat at a patio table, a Bloody Mary and a plate of dry toast in front of him. Sandy took it all in, including his bed-tossed hair, puffy eyes, and the manila folder he’d set at the place directly across from his. She took the seat and laid her leather portfolio beside the folder, while he played for another minute on his cell phone.
“Morning, boss,” she said, nodding to the server who offered coffee.
She had already been down the road for a breakfast that didn’t cost fifty dollars, made her phone calls to the bank on behalf of Rob’s credit card mess, and chosen an outfit similar to yesterday’s but with long slacks and a jacket. At this point, she looked more professional than her hungover boss. She handed him a printed page, folded in quarters.
“Morning. What’s this?” He stared at the paper.
“Your new corporate credit card. I figured for tax purposes you wouldn’t want to be putting your travel expenses on a personal card. Now you can use your new one.”
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