Unexpected Ties

by Gina Dartt

  “You don’t think shared interests are important? Sometimes I worry that Kate and I have so little in common.”

  “Like what?”

  “Lots of things,” Nikki floundered. “She likes golf, I like tennis. She likes classical music while I like rock. She’s town and I’m country. She’s so refined, and I still have straw stuck in my hair. We’re just different in so many ways.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling Irene this, but it seemed impossible to stop once she began. The concerns she had nourished for some time poured out with little restraint.

  “Believe it or not, Nikki, those things are quite minor.” Irene said. “I was married to my husband for over fifty years, quite happily for the most part. We did share a few interests, but overall, we were very different kinds of people, and we celebrated that difference. Kate’s parents were the same way. Thomas had his fishing, his business, and his golf. Winifred had her books, her charities, and her flowers, yet I don’t doubt that they would have been together for as long as James and I were.”

  “But differences can tear relationships apart.” Nikki felt anxiety tighten her throat.

  “No, trying to change those differences is what tears a relationship apart. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with moderating one’s behavior to accommodate the other. Instead of you playing tennis or her playing golf every spare moment, only play once or twice, and spend the rest of your free time doing something together that you both like. That’s the key to a successful relationship, Nikki. Respect both yourself and your partner. Don’t try to change her to fit what you want, and don’t let her try to change you.”

  Nikki was silent, astounded by the advice, not only that she was being offered it, but how profound it was, but she barely had time to think about it when Irene nudged her sharply. “My dear, isn’t that—”

  Startled, Nikki watched Tiffany Elliot get out of her black Mustang in front of the post office. Surreptitiously she lifted the field glasses. Tiffany was at the upper box, retrieving the mail. To Nikki’s increasing surprise, she went to the second one, unlocked it, and withdrew its contents as well.

  “This doesn’t make any sense.” She lowered the glasses. “Why would she be picking up somebody else’s mail? Unless… what if they’re really her boxes?”

  “Why would she have post office boxes in Truro?” Irene seemed just as bemused. “She and Andrew live at Shortt’s Lake. They would have their mail delivered directly to their house.”

  “The real question is why would she put the boxes in someone else’s names?” As Tiffany came out of the post office, Nikki turned her head away in an effort not to be recognized. Her gaze settled on a dark sedan parked unobtrusively in front of an office building a half a block up. When Tiffany pulled away from the curb in her Mustang, the vehicle quietly followed her down Prince Street. Nikki didn’t recognize the driver, or his passenger, but she did recognize the attitude radiating from both the car and the two men in it. It was a very similar attitude to the one she encountered every day at work.

  “I think the Mounties are watching her,” she told Irene.

  Irene looked very concerned. “What does this mean?”

  “I’m not sure. Let’s stop by the police station before we go home. I finally have some of the right questions to ask, even if I don’t have any of the answers yet.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  “I can’t believe you, Gram,” Kate said through clenched teeth. “Are you telling me that you were stalking Tiffany Elliot?”

  “We weren’t stalking her,” Nikki protested from where she sprawled over the sofa. She and Irene had dropped by the bookstore after their afternoon together, and Kate had immediately taken them upstairs, leaving the store in the hands of Todd and Beth. “We were staking out the post office, trying to see who owned the boxes. Who knew she’d be the one to show up?”

  An ache radiated from Kate’s temples. How could she have kidded herself that researching that damned letter would keep Nikki out of trouble? Now her grandmother was involved, and despite the fact that Irene looked serene and quite pleased with herself as she perched in her chair, sipping tea, Kate now had two people to worry about.

  “How do you know they’re hers? Maybe she was doing her husband’s employees a favor.” Even as Kate said it, she knew how lame the suggestion was. Irene gave her a pitying look, and Nikki put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. “Fine.” Kate stopped her pacing and glared at them. “What do you think is going on?”

  “I think Stephen checked off those names because he knew they didn’t work for Elliot Manufacturing.”

  “What?”

  “You should have seen her, Kathryn.” Irene was obviously still thrilled by what she perceived as a great adventure. “We stopped by the police station, and Nikki had an officer check to see if either person had renewed his driver’s license in the past five years.”

  “They just told you?” Kate was appalled.

  “I said I thought I saw a fender bender.” Nikki shrugged. “Besides, Della knows me.”

  Despite herself, Kate asked, “What did she tell you?”

  “Neither name has ever been issued a driver’s license in Nova Scotia, or applied for a motor vehicle registration. Neither has ever had a ticket or a court summons for absolutely anything.” Nikki looked very proud of herself.

  “So they don’t drive and they obey the law. What’s so exciting?”

  “C’mon, Kate, neither of these men drives, neither owns a car, they don’t pick up their own mail, they don’t have a street address, they don’t have a listed or unlisted telephone number, no one seems to know who they are or which part of the plant they work in, and for whatever reason, their social insurance numbers are suddenly throwing up a flag with Revenue Canada.” Nikki ticked off each point on her fingers. “It isn’t what I found out about the people behind those names, Kate. It’s what I didn’t. Truro is too small for me not to get something on these guys. But if they don’t really exist as anything but a name and number on that letter, and, presumably, on the Elliot payroll, then there’s nothing for me to find.”

  Sinking down on the love seat across from Nikki, Kate let the information wash over her. Irene leaned forward, putting her cup on the coffee table. “Kathryn, you’re the business woman. What do you think this means…assuming Nikki is correct in believing that these people really don’t exist outside of the Elliot payroll?”

  “Perhaps someone has set up phony employee records. They could list a work history, then take the checks issued to those names and cash them at the local grocery store or even have a direct deposit in a bank if the account had been set up properly. The checks would never bounce since they’re coming from the Elliot payroll, and no one would complain that they’re stolen. The extra money could easily be pocketed every pay day with no one being the wiser.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense, though. Even if this person was embezzling a few extra paychecks from the company, we’re only talking about two or three hundred dollars a week, maybe an extra twenty or thirty thousand a year at most, after deductions. The risk involved if they’re caught just isn’t worth that kind of money.”

  “Depends on how poor the person is,” Nikki said.

  “Then we’re not talking about the Elliots,” Kate countered smartly.

  “Well, who says it’s only minimum wage positions we’re talking about here? Maybe these names are listed in a much higher tax bracket.”

  “That would explain how Stephen picked up on the names, Kate,” Irene said. “He wouldn’t necessarily recognize every employee on the plant floor, but if he discovered these names on an executive payroll, then he would certainly know if he had ever worked with them.”

  Nikki nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right. If these are employees making large salaries, say, forty or fifty thousand a year, then that’s an extra hundred thousand that goes into Andrew and Tiffany’s pocket. For that kind of money, people will take all kinds of risks.”

  “Hold on.�
� Kate put her fingers to her temples, feeling ganged up on and wanting to halt the stampede of wild guesses. “You still need valid social insurance numbers to create an employee record. Even if the numbers were created out of thin air, any accountant would know they’d be flagged come tax time. They’d only be able to draw those paychecks for a year. I doubt someone like Andrew Elliot would consider a hundred thousand dollars worth losing everything for.”

  “But as chief accounting officer, he’d be the only one who could set it up without being caught,” Nikki argued. “If it was anyone else in accounting, a supervisor would have picked up on it and reported it to the higher ups, namely him.”

  Irene, after looking sharply at Kate, sighed. “No, Kate is right, Nikki. It wouldn’t be worth it. Andrew makes hundreds of thousands every year as a stockholder of the company. Why risk his share of that for a much smaller amount, particularly if he knew he could be caught after only a year?”

  Nikki jumped to her feet, taking her turn at pacing around the living room. “You’re assuming this has only been going on for a year, or that these are the only phony employees receiving a pay check.” Her face brightened visibly. “Or that the numbers aren’t valid to begin with. Kate, maybe these two SINs were flagged because the original owners of the numbers died or something.”

  “What do you mean?” Kate asked, although it was starting to become clear.

  “Identity theft is big business,” Nikki said. “You can buy social insurance numbers illegally if you know the right people. There’s a big market in fake IDs. Sometimes the SINs come from prostitutes or runaways or drug addicts, people living on the streets where no one keeps track of them and have reason to give authorities false names when they do run into trouble. Andrew could have bought a list of four or five numbers from a dealer and put them all on the payroll. Then you’re talking about a half a million extra dollars going into his pocket every year with little fear of being caught. All it requires is a little bit of extra paperwork, and we all know that accountants love paperwork.”

  Kate’s mind was already running ahead. “So he sets up the P.O. boxes as addresses so an income tax return could be filed every year for each employee, thus preventing an audit. If the addresses were scattered around to different post offices in the towns and villages that feed into Truro, then no one would notice who was picking up the mail, particularly if there isn’t much mail to pick up. They wouldn’t be receiving regular bills or letters from anyone. It would just be junk mail and flyers.”

  “And the occasional income tax return,” Nikki added. “Not to mention the HST rebates. Man, they’re hauling it in from anyone. I’m surprised they didn’t give these guys phony kids so they could claim a child tax credit as well.”

  “They’d need birth certificates.”

  “Easily bought from the same dealer that could always be used to apply for more SINs.” Nikki shook her head at the possible scope of it, though she doubted the swindlers had become that complicated. “Of course, if the real people belonging to the numbers ever turn up, either dead or working at another job somewhere else, then the SIN would be registered with Revenue Canada as a duplicate. It’s probably what happened here, and it was just bad luck that two of them were flagged in the same year. That’s the sort of thing that makes an auditor take a second look. Even then, it would probably be assumed that anyone with an illicit background was using the fake SIN, not the law-abiding citizens working for Elliot Manufacturing and dutifully paying taxes in Nova Scotia every year.”

  “The higher pension, tax, and employment insurance contributions that the company has to pay would be noticed,” Kate pointed out.

  “Would it in a company that size, Kate?” Nikki regarded her seriously. “Who, other than the person doing it, would be in the position to notice, unless someone came across it purely by accident?” She paused, raising an eyebrow. “Of course, having a letter from Revenue Canada show up on your desk when it’s normally supposed to go to payroll might make someone wonder what was going on.”

  “So…” Kate mused aloud, trying to envision this scenario, working out the various angles. “Do you think that when Stephen saw this second request from Revenue Canada, he got curious and checked it out with payroll? That maybe he caught on that the people named on the letter don’t actually work for Elliot Manufacturing.”

  Nikki looked excited. “Andrew discovers that Stephen is snooping around the books, or maybe Stephen even confronted him and told him to clean up his act before he called the cops. This is family, after all. He’d probably give him the chance to fix it first. Instead, Andrew kills him at the Historical Society Dinner before he could tell anyone else about it.”

  “Hold on a minute.” Kate had lost herself momentarily in the possibilities, but it was time to put on the brakes and apply a little common sense. “We’re just making things up now. We don’t have any proof. Theories aren’t enough to take to the police. I don’t even think Rick would listen to us.”

  “I think the police already know.” Nikki glanced at Irene. “At least part of it, anyway. They might not have enough to tie anyone directly to the murder, but I’m pretty sure I saw some Mounties following Tiffany. If Revenue Canada is about to come down on Andrew, then it won’t take too much to connect him to Stephen’s death.”

  “Assuming Andrew killed Stephen. What about Tiffany? She must be involved if she’s picking up the mail. How does this connect with your theory about her having an affair with Martin? What of Pat Spencer? He’s Stephen’s best friend and was very upset by his death, but apparently, he’s also involved with Martin and Tiffany.”

  Nikki looked stymied. “Could it be blackmail?” she suggested after a minute, but her voice was more hopeful than certain.

  Kate eyed her. “How do you mean?”

  “Okay, think about this. Martin and Tiffany are in on it with Andrew. Pat Spencer discovers they killed Stephen, but rather than go to the police, he wants them to cut him in on the action. He sets up a meet at the motel for the first payment. Once they start paying, he intends to bleed them dry.”

  “But now he’s disappeared,” Kate murmured.

  “Yes, and he could be dead,” Nikki said. “Maybe it’s not just one murder we’re looking at here.”

  Irene suddenly clapped her hands in applause. “Bravo.” Her voice was warm with approval. “You two work together like a well-oiled machine, Kate. I can see how you were able to solve the Madison murder so easily when the police had yet to make an arrest.” She looked back and forth between them. “What’s our next move?”

  “Oh no.” Kate rose to her feet. “There’s no next move.” She glanced at Nikki. “Be happy you discovered this much. Share it all with Rick. Let him and the rest of the police department handle it from here.”

  Nikki looked momentarily rebellious, then lowered her eyes. “Fine, I’ll talk to Rick.”

  But she didn’t say she’d let it go, and Kate felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. What was Nikki really planning to do next? And how could Kate prevent it?

  *

  “Don’t go,” Kate whispered, wrapped around Nikki like a warm blanket.

  They were sprawled together on the sofa, enjoying another lazy Sunday in Kate’s apartment as rain pattered down steadily outside. When Nikki made an abortive attempt to leave, Kate pulled her back down, holding her not only with her arms, but her legs as well.

  Nikki relaxed in the embrace. “It’s getting late. If I want to go home tonight—”

  “Do you really want to?”

  “You know I don’t.” Nikki nuzzled her ear. “But it’s almost nine. You have to work tomorrow, and I need to feed Powder and clean out his litter box and do my laundry and the shopping and everything else that needs tending after the weekend. If I stay I won’t get enough sleep for that.” She lowered her voice to a husky growl and slipped her hand under Kate’s T-shirt, stroking her back lightly. “Neither will you. I’ll start touching you and you’ll start touching me, an
d the next thing you know, it’s three o’clock in the morning and we’re just coming up for air.”

  Kate sighed. “You’re right,” she said, squirming slightly at Nikki’s playful caresses. “It’s just…I hate not waking up next to you. It’s such a cold way to begin the day.”

  “One day you won’t have to,” Nikki said. “Neither of us will.”

  Kate hesitated and then buried her face into Nikki’s neck, hugging her tightly. Nikki knew what she wanted to say. She wanted to say it herself. It just wasn’t the right time.

  “All right, so you can’t stay. Give me something to keep me warm until I see you again.”

  Nikki laughed and slipped Kate’s T-shirt over her head, her lover helping out enthusiastically. Nikki’s T-shirt followed, then their jeans and undergarments. They briefly attempted to move toward the bedroom, but their desire got the better of them and they arranged themselves on the sofa instead. Nikki thought it was just as well. In that big, comfortable bed, she’d never leave in the drowsy aftermath.

  Kate’s skin was warm, almost fevered, and Nikki delighted in it, groaning as she pressed her body into her lover’s. Silken skin slid over skin, fingertips tracing delicate patterns of sensation along sides and breasts, teasing nipples that hardened and ached with need. Kate’s breath was a rush in Nikki’s ear, a warm panting that heightened her own pleasure as she dipped her fingers in the wellspring of her lover’s never ending moisture. She so loved the soft sounds Kate made—the brief catches at the back of her throat, the quiet moan of pleasure, the quivering keen as she neared her peak. Nikki lost herself in the rhythm of her caress, responding to Kate’s hands on her, seeking out her mouth to capture it in a searing kiss as they raced together for the summit.

  For an instant, they shuddered as one, the sensation almost overpowering, holding them back briefly before they joyously surged together on the wave of bliss. Nikki groaned loudly, aware that Kate shared her pleasure in that moment of passion, before slowly she grew conscious of descent, of returning to the here and now. Prosaic concerns suddenly reigned. Nikki had a cramp in her left leg, the muscles in her back and sides were vibrating with the strain of remaining on the sofa without falling off, and she tasted the salt-sweet flavor of sweat and mutual stickiness painting their skin. Beneath her, Kate chuckled and shifted, freeing her arm to shake it out, undoubtedly to ease the pins and needles sparking along it.