She taped the photos and article next to Petit’s page and spaced the three Motive-Opportunity-Gain lists across the top of the collage. Then she stepped back and looked over the multicolored chaos.
“Tulley and Fitch and the bar. Petit and the rescue and the edited security photos. Fitch and Tulley and the altered documents. Fitch and his expensive New York City weekend. I wonder...”
Her left hand groped behind her for the desk phone. After half a dozen empty clutches, she succeeded and pulled it toward the edge. Turning from the collage, she dialed Petit’s office.
The sound of a phone ringing obscured his voice. “Yes, Ms. Driscoll—not again. Sorry, that wasn’t directed at you. Hold on for a second, please.” The silence lasted for less than ten seconds. “Sorry. The prosecutor’s been crawling up my butt all morning. What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Petit, I want to convince you to let me look at Roger Fitch’s bank statements.”
Thirty-Four
Giulia blessed the state prosecutor in her heart when she hung up the phone. Petit’s “frazzled” level had reached new heights. Giulia made use of her calmest voice, the one that had successfully defused three student fights and one knife threat. She hadn’t scrupled to imply that she’d added Petit to her list of suspects. She’d let the lawyer talk, paused in strategic spots when he asked questions, and listened to him sweat.
While she was still on the line, he buzzed his secretary and asked her to call a courier.
“I’ve got all Roger’s financial information as part of the pre-trial disclosures,” he said to Giulia. “Send them back tomorrow morning, please. We’re getting everything in order for the trial next Wednesday, which will happen in some form even when you find evidence pointing to the real killer.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
She opened her door. “Zane, I’m all yours. Petit is letting us look at Fitch’s bank statements. I’ve got an idea.”
Zane whistled. “How’d you convince him to give us access to those?”
“I let him convince himself. The prosecutor is making Petit’s life miserable this morning and Petit is still spooked over me digging into his past with Fitch.” She dragged Zane’s client chair behind his desk. “Let’s do this.”
Sidney and Jane lowered their voices as Sidney demonstrated forms on her screen and Jane made notes on all the how-tos Sidney had created.
Zane brought up scans of the five alterations Giulia had missed.
“Those are not my fault,” she said after the fifth. “They’re even more scattershot than the other ninety-two. Like this one at the end of January, after the post-Christmas returns. The next year they chose an invoice from five days later, at the beginning of February. There’s no logic to it.”
Zane opened his mouth at the same time Giulia said, “Wait. That is their logic. Look how many months it took the new CEO to spot something. If only we had that kind of time.”
She squinted at a number nine which started out life as a four. “Can you pull the dates of all ninety-seven into a spreadsheet for me?”
“Just a sec.” Zane copied and pasted and sorted.
Sidney headed for the bathroom. Jane flipped over a stapled page and wrote more notes on the back.
“Got it,” Zane said.
They studied the column of dates.
“The frequency increased starting last July,” Giulia said.
“But did the amounts?” Zane clicked over to the purchase orders. “Two hundred fifteen. Three hundred one. Two hundred twenty-four. Here’s one for three hundred sixty-three.”
“That’s an outlier.”
“Yes, the larger, risky numbers stopped in...” he moused over the entire list, “the third week of April.”
“One month before the emergency CEO switch and three weeks after Loriela Gil was murdered,” Giulia said. “Was Loriela part of the scheme after all? Did she make sure the altered documents went through without question?”
“I didn’t consider her,” Zane said. “Possibly.”
“And without her, they didn’t want to take a chance on larger numbers. Come on, Petit, where are Fitch’s bank statements? If Angie the Jilted is right about money laundering at the bar...and if an angel is sitting on my shoulder whispering these ideas to me, Fitch’s bar thefts started after Loriela’s death made document scrutiny too risky. He got greedy.”
Zane frowned. “If she was part of it and her death spooked them, why did it take them ’til the middle of last summer before they ramped up the frequency?”
Giulia sat very still as another idea lit up her brain. “I don’t have that answer yet. I’m still elbow-deep in murder. Did Tulley kill her because she caught him? Did Tulley or Fitch kill her because she was in on it and became too scared of getting caught? Did she demand a bigger share of the loot? Did Petit kill her...no, those two don’t connect here.”
Sidney said, again behind her desk, “Fitch is a nasty piece of work, but does this Tulley person have the guts to commit murder?”
“If properly provoked. He’s stuck in the glory days of his past and is looking, I think, for a way to prove to himself he’s still a macho star chick magnet. He doesn’t have enough money to counterbalance his post-football self.”
Sidney made a face. “When I’m on maternity leave I’m going to expose mini-Sidney to every Disney movie ever made to get the taste of real life out of my mouth.”
Giulia smiled. “That is the most cynical sentence I’ve ever heard from you.”
“Olivier says the third trimester is filing off my super-sweetness. Poor guy. Between me and Jingle spitting at him, he needs a vacation.”
Jane said, “Olivier? Jingle?”
“My husband. Olivier, not Jingle. Oh, poop!” Sidney dived into her backpack and brought out a doubled zipper baggie stamped with a bright orange Meier Farms logo. “Here you go. The best fertilizer ever. Tell all your friends.”
Jane held the gift by the zipper.
“This is manure?”
“No, no, it’s alpaca poop. Hardly any stink from the time you scatter it under your plants to the time it disintegrates. Go ahead, smell it!”
Giulia coughed to cover her laughter at Jane’s expression of helpless fear. “Really, it’s safe to smell. I’ve been using it for years.”
Jane brought the plastic bags near her nose and took a delicate sniff.
The door opened and the same courier who delivered Angie’s letter walked in. Giulia and Zane burst into laughter at the look on his face.
“You have something for me.” Giulia stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the office.
“Uh, yeah. Sign here, please.” He held out a pen.
Giulia signed the carbonless slip on the back of a much thicker envelope than the last one. The courier tore off the top copy, handed her the envelope with a “thanks,” and left a little too quickly.
“I think we’ve scarred him for life,” she said.
“He’ll be talking to The Scoop next,” Zane said with a frown. “My girlfriend liked my bodyguard appearance in Monday’s show, but she’ll get creeped out if those vultures create a DI-is-a-freakshow episode.”
Jane stared at the bag of fertilizer in her hand.
Giulia said to her, “Are you wondering what you got yourself into?”
The temp shook her head, her stylized bangs flipping back and forth. “No. Really I’m not. You people are like a kooky family. The good kind. That’s a compliment, since my last experience with family was my ex and his harpy mother.” She set the bag on the floor next to her black backpack. “Work now?”
Giulia covered Jane’s assimilation awkwardness by ripping open the envelope.
“Oh, this is lovely. Zane, come over by the window.”
She got on her knees on the wood floor and fanned out the folded papers. “Five years of savings, checking, and credit card. Oh, look: Two years of another checking account with cash-only deposits. Can you say Long Neck money? Mr. Petit, I like you when you�
�re cooperative.”
“I’ll take savings and credit card,” Zane said.
He sat cross-legged at Giulia’s left and dealt the statements like a solitaire layout. Giulia did the same with both sets of checking statements. A minute later, Zane unfolded himself and headed for his computer. He returned with pens and two copies of the just-created list of altered purchase order dates.
“You’re going to find more than I am,” he said.
“Don’t bet on it. He’s smart enough to spread the AtlanticEdge money between both accounts to deflect suspicion.”
They worked on their separate tasks, muttering and scribbling and checking off dates. Sidney and Jane talked in low voices. Half an hour later, Giulia sat back on her heels. Zane followed a minute after.
“He’s smarter than I gave him credit for,” Giulia said.
“If you mean that his deposit dates don’t connect to the purchase order dates, I agree.”
“They don’t connect directly, but I see a sideways type of pattern. Look here.” She knelt again and placed the written-on page of dates against one of the July savings statements. “His checking account is pretty dull. Paychecks and bonuses from AtlanticEdge go in and rent, gas, and utilities come out.”
“He’s the type who pays for his groceries by credit card,” Zane said.
“Indeed. His credit card shows a cycle of food, entertainment, hotels, and restaurants. Here’s the PO for the Fourth of July sale at one of the smaller stores, dated June second. Fitch tacked a measly one hundred bucks onto it by changing a five into a six. He split the deposit in two: Thirty-five on June twentieth and sixty-five on July seventh.”
“His savings shows transfers from checking in late May and early August. One hundred twenty-two in May and one hundred ninety-three in August.”
“It’s not enough,” Giulia said. She found the cash-only checking statements for those periods. “This one has regular deposits logged in every Monday and Friday morning. Thursday and Saturday happy hours? For the first time in my life I regret not being the type that drinks in bars.”
“Yes,” Jane said from her seat at Sidney’s desk. “Long Neck advertises in the arts weekly. They have Happy Hour on Thursdays and a microbrew tasting every third Saturday. My ex was hugely into microbrews. Long Neck’s tastings are always packed.”
“And you thought I decided too quickly to hire you,” Giulia said. “When I die, I’m going to have them carve ‘No one appreciated her genius’ on my tombstone.”
“My little brother is taking violin lessons,” Sidney said. “I’ll have him come by after school tomorrow and play you a sad song.”
“I will come teach mini-Sidney to grow up as sweet as you used to be.”
Sidney tried to keep a faux-sympathetic face, but failed.
Giulia looked from her to the clock above the door. “Hey, gang, it’s after twelve. Go to lunch. I’m staying here, so I’ll get the phone.”
Zane was the last to leave. Giulia locked the door behind him. She needed silence to put this puzzle together. Only her overdeveloped work ethic prevented her from turning off her cell and the desk phones.
“First things first.” She removed the clue collage from her office wall and pinned it to the wall next to the front window of the main office. It was too wide for this space and she had to wrap it around the corner. It cleared her own doorframe by half an inch.
“Now. Roger Fitch savings account at ten o’clock. Credit card at eight o’clock. Checking account at twelve o’clock. Long Neck checking account at two o’clock. List of altered PO dates dead center. Tablet.” She returned to her office and retrieved it from her messenger bag. “Surveillance footage at my fingertips.” She stared at the blank screen for a moment. “Surveillance...” She opened Google Earth and zoomed in on the Long Neck bar. “I thought so.”
She called Frank. “Hello, darling husband who is also a detective with access to citywide cameras.”
Frank groaned. “I know that opening gambit.”
“I could hang up and call your boss.”
“No.” Frank’s voice snapped to attention. “You will not get into debt with Jimmy. You know he’ll use it to hound me day and night to get you to work for him.”
She laughed. “The idea never crossed my mind. To prevent that situation, I would like a favor.”
“You are devious.”
“I prefer thorough. Can you get me the traffic cam footage for the intersection of North and Seventh streets?”
“Traffic cams? Why?”
“Because the front door of a bar called Long Neck sits on that corner in full view of the traffic camera. Long Neck happens to be owned in part by Roger Fitch.”
“Is that so?”
“If I remember correctly, Detective, you’re also working on the Fitch case.”
A long-suffering sigh. “I know. Helping you out might help me out too. I’ll do what I can.”
She blew him a kiss. “I knew I could count on you.”
“As a reward I request homemade enchiladas for supper.”
She performed a quick mental inventory of the refrigerator. “Chicken or beef?”
“Cook’s choice.”
“Good, because we have chicken in the freezer but not beef. Why are you keeping me on the phone? I’m on deadline.”
“Are you kidding?”
She laughed harder. “Thank you, sir. I expect to hear from you this afternoon.”
“Abuse of power. That’s what this is.” He hung up.
Thirty-Five
Sidney returned from lunch first. “This place looks like you detonated a bomb in a paper factory.”
Giulia climbed up from the floor using the corner of Sidney’s desk. “Ow. My back popped. I know where every single paper belongs, thank you. Now that we’re alone: I know it’s only been three days, but is Jane getting the hang of how we work?”
“Yeah, she’s great. She’s kinda unsure of herself and thinks we’re weird, but she’s smart.” Sidney lowered herself into her chair. “Should I be doing magical things to make myself irreplaceable?”
“That’s your hormones talking. Perish the thought. Jane is a temp. When you return full-time, she goes.” Giulia froze in place. “If Jimmy isn’t merely sweet-talking me and really needs an assistant...” She unlocked her phone and pressed the voice message icon. “If Jane works out, recommend her to Jimmy when Sidney comes back from maternity leave.”
“That’s why you make the big bucks,” Sidney said. “I wouldn’t have made that connection.”
“You’re not under continual bombardment from a persistent police captain.”
Zane and Jane returned one right after the other.
Giulia groaned. “If you two keep doing this, I really am going to end up giving instructions in rhyme.”
“I will take every step possible to prevent that happening,” Zane said. “It’d make this place like a kids’ video game.”
“Too cute for me,” Giulia said. “Okay, here’s what I’ve come up with in the past hour.”
The phone rang.
“Sometimes I think it knows the moment I get back from lunch,” Zane said. He picked up the receiver. “Good afternoon, Driscoll Investigations.” His eyes widened. “One moment, please.” He hit the hold button. “It’s Colby Petit and he’s freaking out.”
“Wonderful.” She took the handset and Zane took Petit off hold. “It’s Giulia Falcone-Driscoll, Mr. Petit.”
“Damn him. Damn that prosecutor. Damn that judge.” His voice snapped off the ends of the words.
“Mr. Petit, what’s going on?”
“The prosecutor’s been on my back all day, demanding results from the two-week stay the judge granted us. When I couldn’t give him much, he went to the judge and claimed we were delaying the trial without cause.”
“But that’s not true—”
“I know that. You know that. But that son of a bitch convinced the judge. I just got off the phone with her. She moved the trial start to
Friday morning at nine. I need Roger’s financials back. Send it all by courier now, please. And please, please, whatever leads you have, pry some instant results out of them.” His phone rang. “Dammit. I’ll call you back.”
Giulia hung up. “Did you guys hear that?”
“Yes,” Sidney said. “His voice carries.”
“What’s the plan?” Zane said.
“Give me a few minutes. If the phone rings, let the machine get it.”
Silence filled the office. Giulia stared in the direction of the paper-covered floor, but her eyes didn’t see it. She let her mind unfocus at the same time. Images of the people she’d interviewed, the documents she’d studied, and the videos she’d analyzed advanced and receded, swapped places and slipped into the background as she studied everything without studying anything specific.
A few minutes later she blinked the room back into focus and turned around.
“Can you two stay late with me tonight? Jane, not you. Sidney and Zane.”
Sidney opened her phone calendar. “I’m good.”
Zane was already nodding. “I’ve got nothing.”
“You are both awesome. This means shifting gears from the embezzlement to the murder. I’ve been thinking they’re connected, but it’s the germ of an idea only. That’s got to change with all three of us working on it.”
Sidney said into her phone, “Hey, sweetie, it’s me. Everything’s fine. We’re all staying late for an emergency deadline.” She put a hand over the phone. “Any idea how late?” she said to Giulia.
“No. But I’m not chaining you to your desk. Leave when you have to.”
“No idea,” Sidney said into the phone. “There’s leftover baba gnoush in the fridge. Expect me when you see me. Love you.”
“Olivier is a prince,” Giulia said as she dialed Frank. “Hey, long-suffering husband. I’m pulling an all-nighter...No, not literally, but I don’t know how long it’ll take...The judge moved Fitch’s trial up to Friday morning and we’re getting trickle-down panic...Okay. Don’t wait up. Love you.”
She pocketed the phone and turned to Zane. “First, copies. I’ll hand them to you in bunches so my diagram doesn’t get messed up.”
Nun Too Soon (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 1) Page 20