Twisted Dreams

by F J messina

  Sonia stepped out into the rainy afternoon. There was no question that the rain and the unexpectedly brisk air sent a chill through her body. It was either that or the fact that in the parking lot across the street sat a black BMW convertible that reminded her of the car she had seen on Central Avenue the other evening. In the rain and gray, it didn’t seem like there was anyone in it.

  35

  Sonia arrived at the office just before ten on Friday. She found Jet at her desk. There were chairs set up in the waiting area. “What’s going on? Somebody joining us this morning?”

  Jet gave her a coy smile. “Absolutely. And who do you think it might be?”

  “Well, if it were eight in the morning, I would say it was Burnett, but at ten . . . ?”

  “Oh, it’s Burnett alright.” She winked. “He’s got news for us.”

  Sonia returned the coy smile. “And how is it that you didn’t have to call me at seven thirty and tell me to be here at eight?”

  Jet walked out into the waiting area and began laying out some of Magee’s famous pecan Danishes. “I don’t know. Maybe Burnett has developed a slightly different world-view lately.”

  Sonia continued into her own office but said loudly enough for Jet to hear, “Or maybe someone kept him up late last night, you know, going over personal assets and such.”

  The southern belle’s honor was besmirched. “Heaven knows, I have not the slightest idea of what you’re talkin’ about.”

  At that moment, the outer door to the BCI offices opened. The rain from last night had been replaced by clean, clear sunshine. Some of it poured into the windowless area. It filled the space with golden light.

  Sonia looked at her watch. Precisely ten o’clock on the dot. That’s our Burnett.

  Jet walked over to Burnett and extended her hand, not as in a handshake, but rather as if she expected him to bend and kiss it.

  Burnett took her hand gently but eschewed the kiss. “Ah, good morning, uh, Ms. Jet. And how are you this morning?”

  Before she could answer, Sonia interrupted from across the room. “Somehow, Burnett, I have a feeling you have a pretty good idea how she’s feeling. So, how are you feeling today?”

  It appeared to Sonia that Burnett couldn’t help himself. He tugged on the lapels of his jacket and straightened his already straight bowtie. “In fact, Ms. Sonia, I am downright chipper. I have news to share regarding our joint enterprise.”

  Jet took a seat at the table, smiling up at Burnett. “Okay, then. Come and sit down. I won’t bother to offer you one of these Danishes, unless, of course, you’re hungry.” Her eyes posed the obvious question, but Burnett simply waved his hand. “Okay, then, why don’t you go ahead and share this news with us. It sounds like it’s something we’ll enjoy hearing.” She patted the chair next to her with her fingers as she spoke.

  Sonia sat as well. “Yes, Burnett. Come over here and share. We could all use a little good news on this bright sunny morning.”

  Burnett sat, stiffly, in the chair next to Jet; his body was erect, but there was a new softness, a new gentleness, to his countenance.

  Sonia smiled inwardly. Looks like you’re doing some nice work there, lady.

  Burnett began. “So, as you well know, yesterday morning we sent Mr. Oakley a bogus invoice from The Bluegrass Sump Pump Company, in the exact amount of the last invoice he so surreptitiously slipped past Steven Brownlee.” He stopped.

  Jet obliged. “Yes, Burnett. We know that. What else?” She took a bite of her pastry.

  “And last evening, Ms. Sonia sent me new files from his computer.” He smiled. “It appears that yesterday Mr. Oakley obliged us by paying that invoice directly to The Bluegrass Sump Pump Company account to which he has personal access under the fictitious name of James Beam.”

  Jet banged her fist on the long, white, plastic table. “Ol’ Jim Beam? Son-of-a-bitch has no business sullying the name of a purveyor of fine bourbon, now does he?” She huffed. “Anyway, we’ve got him, right?”

  Burnett raised his hands in front of him, extending his two index fingers. “Well, now, we certainly have gotten him to commit himself, haven’t we? Yet, there are two issues that are clearly incomplete.”

  Sonia glanced quickly to Jet, then asked, “And they are?”

  “First, as we said before, in order to have true leverage over Oakley, we have to catch him maneuvering that money out of the false Bluegrass Sump Pump Company account into his own personal account.”

  Jet looked at Sonia. “We’ve got that covered, don’t we?”

  “We hope.” Sonia took a short breath and continued, her voice hopeful but not overly confident. “We know that he has always waited three days and then transferred the funds into his personal account. Assuming he does it on the company computer, we’ll be able to follow that trail. We’ll have caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.”

  Jet seemed totally satisfied with the answer. She turned back to Burnett. “So, what’s the second thing?”

  Before Burnett spoke, his eyes brightened and his eyebrows arched. “Apparently, Mr. Oakey is involved in a scheme more nefarious than we had imagined.” Once again, Burnett stopped, almost begging for someone to ask him to continue.

  This time it was Sonia who obliged. “And . . . .”

  “And, in my careful examination of the Bronson/Brownlee financial records since the date of Mr. Oakley’s hire, I found that more money has passed through the Bluegrass Sump Pump Company account than has been misappropriated from Bronson/Brownlee.”

  Again, there was a stilted silence. This time Jet had no patience. “Well damn it, Burnett, go on with your story.”

  Burnett was a little taken aback by her outburst, but after a beat, he continued. “Okay then. So, what do you think could be the reason for more money going into Mr. Oakley’s fallacious account than has come out of Bronson/Brownlee?” He looked back and forth between their faces, clearly enjoying the tension he was creating.

  Finally, Sonia tentatively shared her thought. “He’s taking money from somewhere else as well?”

  Burnett lit up. “Exactly.” He unconsciously rubbed his hands together. “He’s not only taking money from somewhere else, he’s taking money from several somewheres else.”

  Jet looked at him, her head cocked. “How is he doing that?”

  Sonia interjected. “Phishing. Is he phishing?”

  This time Burnett did run through his lapels and bowtie routine. “Well, I’m not sure what that means, but it appears that Mr. Oakley has gotten several other companies to direct money into that account.”

  Sonia leaned forward addressing both Jet and Burnett. “My guess is that he’s phishing, sort of. I’ll bet he’s just sending invoices to companies hoping some of them would go ahead and pay them.”

  “Even if they hadn’t done business with the company?” Jet asked.

  Burnett sighed, “Oh ladies, I can’t tell you how it burdens my accountant’s soul to tell you that some companies’ accounts payable departments are in such disarray that when an invoice comes across their desk they just assume that eventually, the proper paperwork will find its way to their department. They go ahead and pay it. Without question, those who do so are not following any of the procedures recommended by the─”

  “Yeah, yeah, we know, Burnett.” Jet turned. “Don’t we, Sonia?”

  Sonia smiled. “Yes, we do.” She turned back to Burnett. “So, we think he’s sending invoices to all kinds of companies, hoping some will pay? And if they contest the invoice he just apologizes and politely drops it as if it was an honest mistake?”

  Burnett’s voice was tinged with resignation. “I believe you are correct, sad as I am to admit it.”

  Jet reached out and grabbed her coffee, then leaned back in her chair. “Ain’t that just a kick in the ass? So, what do we do if we find out we’re right about all this?”

  Taking her cue from Jet, Sonia leaned back as well. “Let’s not worry about that. Our two main goals here are to
prove that Oakley is stealing from Steven Brownlee and to try to get his money back. I think all we can do for now is sit and watch what happens on Tuesday or Wednesday. That’s when he’s likely to be transferring money out of the sump pump account, and, we hope, using the company computer to do it.”

  Burnett stood up rather abruptly. “Well, ladies, it has been my pleasure to inform you of the latest developments in our joint undertaking. And now I will take my leave.”

  Sonia watched as Burnett stood still, not moving, but looking directly at Jet.

  A moment later, Jet popped up. “Oh, professor. Let me walk you to the door.”

  Sonia smiled. Wow. He was waiting for that, wasn’t he? Yikes. She’s got him hooked like a catfish on the end of some little girl’s line. She watched as Jet and Burnett walked to the door speaking in hushed tones.

  As they reached the door, Jet turned toward Sonia. “Listen, honey. We’re going downstairs to get some coffee. I’ll be back . . . . I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

  Sonia looked down at the half-eaten Danishes and the half-full coffee cups on the table. She smiled.

  Just before noon, Sonia looked up from her desk and saw Jet enter the BCI offices. “Well, look who has returned. Everything go okay downstairs?”

  Jet gave her a blatantly content smile. “Lovely, thank you. We just enjoyed a little coffee and shared something sweet.”

  “And the coffee and pecan Danish we had up here weren’t good enough?”

  Sonia watched as Jet unconsciously turned and looked back at the leftover treats on the table in the waiting area. “Oh. I guess we could’ve stayed up here, couldn’t we?”

  The smile that crossed Sonia’s face was rather smug. “I would have thought so. So, were you going to stay down there all day, or what?”

  “Actually, we were having a lovely time talking about all the interesting facets of forensic accounting and I would have enjoyed staying longer.” Jet held her phone up to Sonia as if Sonia could read it from across the room. “It’s just that I saw I missed a phone call from that woman who was helping me track down Penny Rae Nelson. I thought I should return her call from up here, where all my notes are.”

  As if by reflex, Sonia glanced through the glass wall into Jet’s office. Like she could ever find anything on that desk. She turned back to Jet. “Absolutely. Get right to it. We’ve got to find that girl before something happens to her.”

  Jet turned and started toward her office. “On it.”

  A few minutes later, Jet walked back over to Sonia’s office, a sense of relief in her voice. “We’ve found her. She’s working on a farm just outside of Saratoga Springs, New York.”

  Sonia breathed a sigh of relief. “You know the name of the farm?”

  “In fact, I do. It’s Holdenbrook Farm. Apparently, it’s owned by some couple named Bonnie and Giles Daneck. The farm manager is a guy named Franklin Hayes. I’ve got a call in to him right now. The woman who answered said Hayes would be back later this afternoon. I’m going to hang here while I wait for his return call. What are you up to?”

  Sonia’s face broke into a big smile. “I, dear friend and partner, am leaving early. As you might recall, my paramour,” she said with a glint in her eye, “may be home tonight, or at least by tomorrow. I am spending this afternoon cleaning my humble abode and getting in whatever provisions I will need to create a fine dinner for my love. It’ll probably be tomorrow night before we eat. Know what I mean?”

  Jet’s smile was now as broad as Sonia’s. “Do I ever. You go and enjoy yourself. I won’t bother you unless something important comes up.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go on, go. Go enjoy the pleasures of your wanton love, while I sit here slaving away trying to keep this business afloat.”

  Sonia was not bothered in the least by the taunt. “Well, thank you very much.” She stood and gathered her things. “And with that, I bid you adieu.”

  36

  Looking around her apartment, Sonia could actually feel the lightness in her own spirit. She wasn’t sure if Brad would be home Friday evening, or early on Saturday, but she knew one thing. She hadn’t seen Brad, or touched him, or kissed him, in precisely fourteen days, and sometime in the next twenty-four hours, she would be in his arms again. She cranked up the volume of the music on her phone as she moved through her cozy home smiling, re-cleaning the little kitchen, the living room─the bedroom. The music stopped abruptly. She was receiving a phone call. It must be Brad.

  Sonia didn’t even look at the phone’s screen. She just picked it up and said, “Hello?”

  “Sonia?”

  “Oh, Jet. I thought it would be Brad. What’s up?”

  “Listen, Sonia, I got some bad news. I got a call back from Franklin Hayes, the farm manager at Holdenbrook Farm, you know, where Penny Rae was working?”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “You’re not going to believe this, but Penny Rae Nelson went missing on March eighth.”

  Sonia swallowed hard, unable to say anything.

  “Are you there? Did you hear what I said?”

  “I heard, I heard.” Sonia’s voice faded away, “I just . . . .”

  “I know. It’s crazy, isn’t it? Just crazy.”

  Sonia remained stunned, silent.

  “Are you okay, honey? Sonia?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I’m okay.” Sonia started pacing around her tiny apartment. “Actually, I’m afraid we both kind of saw this coming, didn’t we?”

  “I guess. Still. One girl dead. Two missing. This is a real bitch.”

  Sonia’s voice tightened. “Listen, Jet. We’ve got to figure this out. We’ve got to do something before we find out Mariana’s dead too.” She absently pushed back the white window curtain and stared outside as she spoke. “What else do we know about Penny Rae? Do they have any information at all?”

  “Well, when I finally got to talk to this Hayes guy, I asked him why nobody told me she was missing when I first called. He said that the police had told them to be careful who they spoke to and what they said because this was a full-on police investigation.”

  “Did he tell you anything else?” As she spoke, something caught Sonia’s eye.

  “When I told him I was a PI looking for one of Penny Rae’s friends, he started talking. He said that Penny Rae just simply failed to show up for work on March eighth. It was two days later before the police were finally called in. They went to her apartment, but they didn’t find anything disturbed or missing. Two days after that, her car was found in Bennington, Vermont.”

  “Vermont?”

  “Yeah, Bennington, Vermont. It isn’t terribly far away from Saratoga Springs, where the race track and the horse farms are.”

  “What else?” Sonia leaned to her left and strained to see more clearly beyond the pin oak tree that stood guard in front of the garage over which she lived.

  “It seems that her car was found in the parking lot of the Greyhound Bus station there.”

  “So, she might have been running away, and took a bus somewhere?”

  “Could be. On the other hand, Bennington is right on the edge of the Green Mountain National Forest. I guess some folks suggested she had gone to the park to go hiking with some kind of group, but that doesn’t wash. From what I’ve learned, she was no flake.” Sonia’s eye was focused on the front bumper of a black BMW that was parked near the corner of Ashland and Central Avenues, across the street from her home. “She wasn’t the kind of person who just didn’t show up for work without telling anyone, especially being responsible for animals. No, our best hope is that she was running away for some reason. Maybe, just maybe, in the same way Mariana is running.”

  Sonia could hear the hope in Jet’s voice, but Sonia’s fear was that both Penny Rae and Mariana were not just missing, they were . . . . She closed her eyes, trying to avoid the inevitable conclusion to that thought.

  After a moment’s silence, Jet asked, “So what do we do now?”

  Sonia barely hesitated. Looking
absently around her apartment, she began, earnestly. “We start over. We go back over every inch of ground we’ve already covered. We talk to all of Mariana’s friends again, everyone she works with, everyone in her family, asking about her and LaKeisha and Penny Rae. We go back to Downstream Farm. We talk to that flakey professor, to see if he can shed any more light on things. We check in with Gabriela to see if she’s found Santiago yet. We do it all over and over again until we unearth something, some little thing, that helps us find Mariana and, I hope, Penny Rae as well.”

  This time there was a long pause as Sonia’s mind was racing through possibilities. When she looked out the window again, the black BMW was gone. After a moment, she became aware of the silence and assumed Jet’s mind was going a mile a minute as well. “Listen, pal. I’ve got to get ready for tonight. I still haven’t heard if Brad is coming in tonight or tomorrow. But you go home and start to think about a plan we can use to effectively retrace our steps. Call me Sunday evening and we’ll talk about how we’ll start next week.”

  Jet chuckled softly. “So, you’re going to be busy doing something else this weekend?”

  Sonia knew that Jet was trying to lighten the mood, teasing Sonia about her long-awaited reunion with Brad. She appreciated the effort, but it fell flat. For the moment, at least, even the thought of being in Brad’s arms wasn’t enough to relieve the dread she felt. Two, no, three young girls missing or dead? What the hell is this all about? She had to figure it out. And she was stumped.

  37

  Sonia had been walking around the room in a daze, unable to let go of her thoughts about Mariana, Penny Rae, LaKeisha, and, at the back of her mind, that black BMW. She was grateful when the phone rang and broke the grip of those thoughts. “Hello?”

  “Hey, babe. How are you?”

  “Brad.” She sighed and absently touched her cheek with her fingertips. “It is so good to hear your voice.”