“I don’t have time to come get the pictures, and then drive back and show them to her, and still do everything else I need to do,” Jesse said, addressing Matt. “Besides, I thought you had my back.”
Connie laughed. “Is that all you need?” Matt asked in a tone that seemed to be relenting without much of a fight.
“Just show her the pictures and see if she recognizes anybody,” Jesse repeated.
“And what are you doing?” he asked, once again demanding.
“I have to go talk to a lady about an accountant. You can call me when you’re through with Adele and let me know what she said. If everything sounds interesting enough, we may all meet at Vivian’s this afternoon.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I believe your lovely wife said it best yesterday. ‘The game is afoot.’ Now, go talk to the nice lady and see what she has to say. And, Connie, thank you so much for your help. I’ll talk to you both later.”
Jesse hung up before Matt could argue any more. Sophia handed her a warm, partially unwrapped egg and bean burrito and pointed to an orange juice sitting in the console between them.
“Matt’s a wonderful person,” Sophia said as she accelerated out of town and into a normal highway speed zone. “But he is just the tiniest bit controlling, isn’t he?”
“You could hear him?” Jesse paused with the burrito an inch from her mouth.
“Your answers made it pretty obvious what he was saying. And it did sound awfully similar to how it sounded years ago.”
Jesse tilted her head to the side and smiled. “You’re a pretty swell mom. Did you know that?”
Sophia’s eyes twinkled. “Yes, but it’s nice to hear you say it from time to time.” She refocused her attention on the road. “So, about Maria…how does she fit into this?”
Jesse finished chewing and swallowed her first bite. “I’m not sure.” She took a drink of orange juice. “I knew she was aware of Ginny and felt bad about her death. I don’t remember her saying that she had visited Adele or been to the apartment building, although Marie did say she had been to the funeral. But that probably doesn’t mean anything. There was a lot going on Saturday, and Ginny wasn’t the focus of anyone’s attention. So Maria probably just didn’t see any reason to go into detail.”
“It is interesting though, isn’t it?” Sophia asked, her voice quiet with thought. “All of this seems to go so much deeper and in so many more directions than it appeared to at first. I guess no one’s life is simple, and neither is their death.”
“Certainly not this one,” Jesse agreed. “There do appear to be tentacles going in all directions.”
“Have we found anything yet, in all of this, that would exclude Bliss?”
Almost hearing the wheels turning in her mother’s mind, Jesse shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. The more complicated it all gets—the more we find out about Harry’s life—the more motive it would appear to give her.”
“You don’t really think that there’s any possibility,” Sophia asked in a tone so soft it was almost a whisper, “that Bliss might, actually, have done it, do you?”
Jesse knew how her mother felt. The question was the one everybody was thinking, probably even Vivian, but no one wanted to be the one to ask it. And the truth was that no one really knew. They were all operating on hope and a blind faith that was built on nothing but wishful thinking. God knows, Bliss had motive.
“For me, the scariest part is that we still haven’t found out everything that was going on. And the more we learn, the worse it gets. I honestly don’t know, Mom,” Jesse answered. “They say anyone is capable of anything if they’re driven far enough.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
While Sophia delivered the cinnamon rolls they had brought for Bea Turner, and found out the details of what, exactly, Marjorie had said the previous day over lunch, Jesse opted for texting Vivian the account information on the slip of paper from the envelope.
In the text, she asked Vivian to pass the information on to the forensic accountant who was meeting with her that day. Jesse promised to call as soon as she knew more. And said she would come by in person when she was done. By the time she got through texting everything she needed to say, Jesse realized she should have just called.
Texts were for short communications, and with Vivian, there were no short communications. When she read the message, Vivian would probably huff indignantly and call Jesse for a full accounting of everything that had happened thus far. But the phone didn’t ring, and even though that was what Jesse had hoped for, it still worried her. Today, of all days, silence was no comfort.
But she didn’t have long to think about it before Sophia came out of the small, white farmhouse, gave a woman of approximately her build and age a hug in the doorway, and then bounced happily across the yard and over to the car.
Bea stood on the porch, watching Sophia’s departure, then gave Jesse a big, friendly wave before going back inside and closing the door.
“A productive meeting, I’m gathering,” Jesse said as her mother slipped into the driver’s seat and put the sheet of paper with Marjorie’s address where she could see it.
“Well, it was certainly a pleasant meeting. I really do like Bea. We decided we’re simply going to have to get together more often.”
As a puzzled frown gathered on Jesse’s brow, Sophia hastened to say, “Because we didn’t have time to have a good talk this morning, since we’re…” She motioned between the two of them. “…in a hurry, and unfortunately, Marjorie hinted at a lot more than she actually said.”
Sophia backed out of the driveway and onto the two-laned, paved, county road that served to connect miles of farm and ranch land with the state highways which in turn linked them to whatever civilization lay beyond, should they care to venture that far.
Reluctant to leave the bucolic surroundings, Jesse forced her mind back to the reason she was here. “So, what did Marjorie hint at?”
“She hinted that her husband Fred seemed to think there was financial wrongdoing going on at Harry Kerr’s dealership. And that people were starting to be aware of it. And that Harry Kerr died just before a major scandal came toppling down on top of him. And that poor Mrs. Kerr didn’t deserve to have all this coming out into the open, which it was bound to do, on top of being the primary suspect in her husband’s murder.”
Sophia bobbed her head in completion, and Jesse had the feeling that that was exactly what she had learned and nothing more.
“Any indication of what the financial wrongdoing was, or who might be becoming aware of it?”
“Bea said that was all she said. And that she, Bea, had a suspicion that was all Marjorie knew. No names. No particulars. Just vague rumors or, more likely, gossip, or that maybe Marjorie’s husband just didn’t want to tell her any more, in case she started spreading it around, which she obviously did.”
Mile after mile of pasture land stretched out around them as the car zipped down the largely empty road. A group of horses grazed in one fenced area, a herd of cattle lounged in another, clustered under trees and standing up to their bellies in ponds.
The passing scenery was almost hypnotic, and Jesse had to force her attention back to the job at hand. “Any hint as to why or how the scandal was going to topple? Or as to whether any of this was connected to why he was killed?”
Sophia shook her head. “Bea said she got the impression that Marjorie really didn’t know much of anything and was just parroting what her husband said.”
“Which means that Fred Dawson may actually know something,” Jesse said with a grin. “In fact, I think Fred Dawson does know something. And I don’t think we need to spend much time with Marjorie herself. Do we know anything about Fred?”
“He used to be a CPA,” Sophia said after a moment of thought. “I believe he is now retired. And the last thing I heard, he still did freelance accounting work, part-time, on the side. Probably to earn extra money.” She tipped her head toward Jesse and l
owered her voice confidentially. “Marjorie’s a shopper. Oh, look! A llama.”
Jesse whipped her head to the side in time to see the camel-like face and long-lashed eyes of a llama staring over the fence at them as they went by. “Wow, they are so cute,” she said, then immediately turned her attention back to business. “So, do you suppose Fred works at home, or does he keep an office?”
“Well, if he’s retired and trying to save money, he probably works out of his house. Which is…” Sophia held up the directions to double check. “…a right turn at the state highway and five miles up, just on the other side of Harper City, which isn’t actually a city.”
She put down the written directions, did a rolling stop at an intersection barely a minute later, and turned right onto the highway they had been driving toward. “According to Bea, theirs is a native stone house, with a few cattle on one side and a good-sized vegetable garden on the other. She seems to think we’ll know it when we see it.”
Jesse looked around. The only detectable difference between this road and the one they had just left was wider shoulders and ten miles an hour more on the speed limit. “I’d have a lot more faith if I hadn’t already seen about twenty-five houses this morning that matched that exact same description. I don’t suppose there’s a street address on that piece of paper.”
“I don’t suppose there’s going to be a street,” Sophia said with a laugh. “Mailbox on the highway, and good luck reading that.”
As it turned out, the house was almost as easy to find as Bea thought it would be. At the “Welcome to Harper City” sign, the speed limit dropped to thirty miles an hour for the two-and-a-half blocks that consisted of a convenience store with three gas pumps, an ice cream and hamburger stand, and a feed store with half a dozen pickups parked outside. Interspersed with the businesses were a handful of houses that didn’t have horses, cows, goats or llamas in a pasture next to them.
Four houses past the feed store, the speed limit increased again to forty-five miles an hour, and the next house on the left was native stone with a pasture containing cows on one side of it and a garden on the other.
A pleasant-looking man with a receding hairline and a spreading waistline sat on the front porch in a rocker. He waved as they turned into his driveway. A small, fluffy white dog jumped down from his lap and headed for the car. The man stood and followed slowly after it.
When he reached the chain-link fence that separated his front yard from the driveway, he propped his forearms on the top of it and watched them exit the car. His dog danced at his feet. Apparently thrilled at the sight of strangers, the dog yipped once loudly, then contented himself with small gurgling noises in lieu of barks.
“You ladies lost?” the man asked by way of greeting.
Jesse closed the passenger door behind her and held out her hand. “I hope not. Are you Fred Dawson?”
Sophia advanced around the front of the car, smiling broadly and presenting a more disarming presence than Jesse ever seemed to manage. Her mother was all soft edges and warmth, while Jesse herself…wasn’t.
“That I am,” Fred Dawson said and took the hand that Jesse extended across the top of the fence.
His eyes were squinted, and his handshake tentative.
“My name is Jesse Camden. This is my mother, Sophia. We own…”
“The Gilded Lily over Myrtle Grove way,” he said. His guarded expression cleared, and his grip on her hand firmed. Then he released her as Sophia leaned in, and he replaced Jesse’s hand with her mother’s. “I recognize you girls, now. What can I do for you?”
“Well, my mother is friends with Bea Turner,” Jesse began. “And she gave us your address.”
“Uh, huh.” The squint was back, and his jaw jutted forward at a pugnacious angle.
“Would it be possible for us to come inside and talk to you?” Jesse asked, hoping she sounded more hesitant than demanding.
“My wife’s inside.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the front porch, then sighed, opened the gate and stepped out into the driveway. The dog slipped through behind him and hurried over to sniff first Jesse’s shoes and then Sophia’s. “Come on with me. I got a spot out behind the barn.”
He led the way, and the two women fell in behind him. Jesse and Sophia exchanged a glance of wonder combined with apprehension. He was too close for them to say anything but there was a world of puzzlement in their silent communication. Unaffected by the tension, the dog bounced happily along in their midst.
The yard they were traversing, and the barn they were approaching, all seemed clean, neat and well maintained. But everything about Fred Dawson’s manner screamed deceit. However, it also screamed that he might be about to tell them the secrets he was keeping.
Once they were around the barn and in the privacy behind it, Jesse was very pleasantly surprised. There was a table with chairs in the center of a circular herb garden. Side by side with fading lavender blooms were shrub roses in various shades of red and pink. Sage, rosemary and basil added their perfume to the air. Shoulder-high dill waved bouquets of small, yellow flowers in the breeze, and the star-like blue flowers of the borage hosted a cloud of tiny yellow butterflies.
She realized that it was probably a failing of hers that nothing distracted her as quickly as something that bloomed or had a pleasing scent. If Dawson suddenly whipped out an axe and started chasing them through the garden, she would probably still slow down and take a big whiff as she passed the lemon thyme.
“Have a seat, ladies,” he said, indicating the comfy lawn chairs gathered around the table. “I have a feeling this isn’t strictly a social call.”
They all picked a chair, Jesse and Sophia taking two that were next to each other and faced the majority of the wildly blooming roses. Dawson took one across the table, to the side, not too close, not too far away. Jesse pondered the significance of this and realized he might just prefer to look at the dill. Next, she wondered how in the world to approach this fishing expedition, since she really didn’t know what she expected to learn.
Apparently, the silence got to him first. “Look,” he said, shifting nervously in his chair, “I know you’re friends with Mrs. Kerr, and if this is about Maria Ortiz and what she hired me to do, I can explain.”
“I would appreciate that. Thank you,” Jesse answered. She was careful not to look at her mother, thinking it best not to give him any hint of how uninformed they really were. Or how surprised she was by what he had just said.
“Well, you know, Ms. Ortiz has a business degree, and she had a lot of training in computers and accounting. And the way she explained it to me is that she’d been seeing small things for a long time that disturbed her. Things in the monthly financials that didn’t add up.”
He shifted his body again, seeming to relax a bit as he spoke. “So, finally, this summer she came to see me because she was afraid she’d somehow be held responsible if she didn’t do something. But since she didn’t trust Mr. Kerr, she didn’t know who to go to, you know what I mean?”
Jesse nodded, hoping that she conveyed reassurance and understanding rather than the complete bafflement she felt. “So, she came to you. And what did you do then?”
“Well, she started sneaking copies of the monthly financial reports out to me, a few at a time. Along with other documentation she had access to, going back for year or two. And I spent a good month going over everything, and it didn’t take long to see what was bothering her. There was stuff that just didn’t make sense. Money that wasn’t where it should be, or wasn’t there at all. But I couldn’t tell how it was being done.”
Dawson grew indignant. “It was being moved all around. One month one place, the next month another place, then just disappearing. I couldn’t tell who was doing it, or where it was going. So I gave it all back to her and told her I thought she was right. It looked to me like somebody was stealing from the company, but if she didn’t want to bring it to Mr. Kerr’s attention, I didn’t know what she could do about it. She thanked
me, paid me, and that was that.”
“So, that’s it? That’s all you did?”
“When a man sets out to steal from his own company, what are you going to do? I think the smartest thing you could do is to start looking for a new job, before it all hits the fan,” he said with a quirk of his brow and a shrug. “You don’t want to be there when the boat starts sinking, or when they start looking for people to blame.”
“Was there anything specific that you noticed? Anything that jumped out at you that could have been part of a money trail?” Jesse felt like she was coaching a witness, but surely after a month of studying the books, the man should have noticed something that stood out from the rest.
“Well, there was one thing. I don’t know anything about the car business, so I didn’t notice this right off. But after a while, I began to see where a lot of used cars, cars that came in as trade-ins and such, were being shipped off to other dealers without money coming back in to show for it. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but it began to weigh on me as I thought on it, so a month or two ago, I came back to Ms. Ortiz and I mentioned it. And from the look on her face, I think she knew what it meant.”
“And that’s it? That’s all you know?”
“That’s it.”
He seemed relaxed, relieved and no longer dreading what was to come. To Jesse that meant that he had told them all he knew, or that she hadn’t been nearly hard enough on him. She reached into her purse and pulled out the small slip of paper that came from Ginny Spurber’s envelope.
“What about this?” Jesse asked. She held out the paper, close enough for him to see it, but clearly not handing it to him. “Have you ever seen this?”
His eyes narrowed as he leaned closer. “What is that?” He reached for it, and Jesse pulled it back just out of reach. “Where did you get that?”
She moved it a little closer again. “Have you ever seen any of this information?” she asked again. “Do you know what this is?”
“I’ve never seen that,” he said with a firm shake of his head. “I don’t know anything about it. Except it looks like names and numbers for maybe an offshore account.”
Murder, Mayhem and Bliss (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 1) Page 23