by Chloe Lang
“Wheels on the bus? I know that song.” Jay looked over his shoulder at the two girls behind the desk. “But I bet I know what you were singing about and it wasn’t about wheels or busses, right?”
“Get out my head.” She burst out laughing as they stepped out onto the street.
The limo was waiting for them. The driver opened the door and they got inside, once again with her sitting between Clay and Jay.
She couldn’t hold back and started to sing the song aloud. “Those two bitches made asses of themselves. Asses of themselves…”
As she continued to sing, Clay and Jay joined in.
Chapter Ten
As the limo pulled in front of the warehouse, Jay saw several cars parked in the lot, two delivery vans, a semi-truck, and several men operating forklifts. The place was buzzing, not chained up and empty like Janice had seen it a few days ago. “I guess I won’t be needing the bolt cutters.”
“This doesn’t make any sense.” Clay looked dumbfounded.
“I agree.” He wished their uncle hadn’t revealed their probe to the staff. If they had been able to keep it secret, they might have gotten the jump on whoever was behind the discrepancy. “The only thing I can come up with is that someone in the London office has to be the embezzler.”
“Even if that’s true, there must be a paper trail,” Izzy said. “And Janice has admitted she was unaware of this place’s existence. Let’s go inside and find the proof we need to bring down the culprit or figure out if this is like your uncle said—something that has fallen through the cracks at GWI.”
“It would have to be a pretty big crack, Izzy.” He stepped out of the limo.
She and Clay joined him on the sidewalk that led up to the front door of the warehouse. The sign above the door read “Gibbs Worldwide Investments –Bodega Numero 11.
“I wonder why that is in Spanish,” Clay stated.
He wondered, too.
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” Izzy marched to the entrance like a warrior taking the battlefield.
He loved her fire and determination. If anyone was going to figure out what was really going on it was Izzy. Clay held the door for her and the three of them walked inside.
A guy at the desk looked at them in the warehouse’s front office. The nametag pinned to his shirt read Carlos Morales. “Welcome to GWI. How may I help you?” His accent was just as Spanish as his name.
“We would like to speak with the person in charge,” Izzy said.
“Certainly. May I tell him who wishes to see him?”
“My name is Isabella Clemens, and this is Clay and Jay.” She was being vague about who they were, likely trying to keep intact any advantage they still might have, no matter how little.
“Uno momento, Miss Clemens.” Carlos picked up the phone. “Señor, hay una mujer muy hermosa aquí con dos caballeros. Isabella Clemens. Ellos quieren hablar con usted.”
Jay’s Spanish was just as good as Clay’s. The man had called Izzy very beautiful, which was absolutely true. He resisted the urge to put his arm around her even though he really wanted to make sure Carlos realized she wasn’t available. But that wouldn’t be smart. The less the people here knew about them, the better the chances of success with their investigation.
After several minutes, a middle-aged man entered the front office from a side door. “Hello, I am Alberto Gonzales, the warehouse manager.” Same Spanish accent.
The name didn’t mean anything to him, and by the look on Clay’s face, he could tell the same was true with him.
Izzy’s face darkened for a split-second before returning to normal when she held out her hand to the man. “Isabella Clemens.”
Had she see Gonzales’s name on one of the reports she’d been checking today?
“These are my associates, Clay and Jay.”
“I understand you wish to speak with me, Ms. Clemens. How may I be of assistance to you today?”
“We need to discuss something very urgent with you in private, sir.”
“What is this regarding, Ms. Clemens? And who are you and these two gentlemen representing?”
“Like I said, Mr. Gonzales, we must speak with you privately. The matter is very confidential.”
“Of course. My office is this way.” Gonzales led them into the warehouse, which was surprisingly full of inventory.
They walked the entire building, arriving at the very back next to a loading dock, which was filled with employees, all speaking Spanish. So strange. This is London.
Gonzales led them into a very no-frills office. There were only two chairs for guests.
Izzy sat down. Jay motioned for Clay to take the other seat, preferring to remain standing.
Gonzales was too slick, too polished to have the job of a warehouse supervisor. Nothing about this was making any sense. Jay wanted to keep his eyes and ears open. If this man was stealing from GWI and felt like he was being backed into a corner, he might be dangerous. Jay wished he had his pistol, but bringing in weapons to Great Britain wasn’t allowed.
“Mr. Gonzales, I’m with MKJ Accounting.”
Gonzales sat down in his chair behind the desk. “And why are you three here, Ms. Clemens?”
“We are checking on inventories for GWI. This is my card and a letter from the CEO granting me access to your records.” Izzy was sharing some details but holding back the full picture. She never ceased to impress Jay with her skills.
“Everything seems to be in order. What do you need from me?”
“I’ll need to see your records and I have a few questions for you about this warehouse.”
“Of course. I’ll be happy to help.”
“Excellent.” Izzy planted a non-threatening smile on her face. “How long has this warehouse been in operation?”
Gonzales opened a drawer, pulled out a file, and handed it to her. “Five years.”
Izzy began reading the file. “This is odd.”
“Señorita?”
“This isn’t part of the London operation.” Izzy handed the file to Clay.
Gonzales nodded. “That’s correct. This is operated and funded out of GWI’s offices in Madrid.”
“Madrid?” Jay looked the man straight in the eyes, hoping to see some kind of sign he was lying. But the man seemed completely at ease with the entire situation. “That’s not how things operate at GWI.”
“Excuse me, señor, but you are obviously wrong. Look around. Every shelf is filled with GWI inventory. I was sent here to run this warehouse for Madrid.”
“That’s inefficient, Mr. Gonzales,” Izzy stated. “Distribution inside of Great Britain should be run through the London offices, not Madrid’s.”
Gonzales shrugged. “Maybe so, but I am not high enough on the ladder to make those kinds of decisions. I just follow orders. I’ve worked for GWI for twenty-five years and never had a problem.”
The phone rang. “Excuse me. Sí. Ellos están aquí ahora, sentado frente a mí. No se preocupe, señor. Todo es bueno.”
Jay tensed, knowing what the man was saying. Yes. They are here now, sitting in front of me. Don’t worry, sir. Everything is good. Gonzales clearly knew who they were, and whomever he was talking to on the phone was pulling his strings.
“Adios.” Gonzales hung up the phone. “Now, where were we?”
“Obviously you are very busy, Mr. Gonzales.” Izzy stood. “Thank you for your help. I’ll take these files with me if you don’t mind.”
The man came around from the desk. “I don’t mind at all. I hope you found what you were looking for.”
Jay moved to the other side of Izzy, placing her protectively between him and Clay.
“I believe we have,” she said, shaking Gonzales’s hand. “It seems this has been just a big mix-up.”
Did she really believe that? He doubted it.
She patted the files. “I’m certain this will have the answers we need. If I have any further questions, I hope you won’t mind me contacting you.”
“Not at all. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a tour of the facility?”
She smiled. “That won’t be necessary.”
It was clear she was putting on a front for Gonzales and just wanted to get as far away from him and his warehouse as fast as possible.
“I’ll take you back to the front,” Gonzales said. “That will give me a chance to point out several important items we store here for GWI.” As he led them through the warehouse, Gonzales commented on the inventory they passed.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Clemens, and your two friends.”
“We’ll be in touch,” she said, shaking the man’s hand once again.
They got into the limo and Izzy let out a big sigh. “Thank God we are out of there. You did catch what he said when he was on the phone, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Clay said. “He obviously knew who we were and whomever he was talking to did as well.”
“Probably the mastermind behind the embezzlement.” Jay grabbed Izzy’s hand. “You were amazing back there. Accountant. Interior designer. Actress. Is there anything you can’t do, Izzy? With your acting performance, I really don’t think Gonzales realizes we’re onto him.”
“I hope you’re right, but we have our work cut out for us.”
“You reacted strangely when we were introduced to Gonzales, sweetheart,” he said. “Did you come across his name while you were checking the records this morning?”
She shook her head. “No. But do you remember your uncle’s phone call the day he hired me? He was talking with a man named Alberto. They couldn’t be one and the same, could they?”
“I don’t think so,” Clay said, but the look on his face told him he was concerned. “But we definitely need to check Mr. Gonzales’s records thoroughly.”
“I hate to ask this but I must. Do you think your uncle might somehow be involved in this?”
Jay sighed. “I certainly don’t want to believe he is, but we need to keep this just among the three of us for now.”
Izzy was reading the files. “This is all in order and it ties up all the loose ends you found.”
“Just like a nicely wrapped package that someone planted for us to find,” Clay said.
He agreed with both of them. There was no paperwork failure about the discrepancy he and Clay had uncovered. Someone was stealing from GWI. “And it still doesn’t answer why Janice found the warehouse locked up and appearing empty just a few days ago.”
“True,” Izzy said. “Or why for the past five years the Spanish office hasn’t ever contacted London about the warehouse. Logistically, that seems very unlikely.”
“But we all saw those shelves.” Clay shook his head, a clear sign of his frustration. “The missing inventory was there, but how did it get there so fast?”
“That’s what we are going to find out,” Izzy said, determination in her voice.
“But we must be careful,” Jay warned, concerned for her safety. “Gonzales and his partner, or partners, think they’ve duped us. We need them to keep thinking that.”
Chapter Eleven
Back at the conference room at GWI’s London offices with Clay and Jay, Izzy’s frustration grew during the conference call with Tom and Lyle for a couple of reasons. First, it didn’t look like they were getting any closer to figuring out the real answers to the discrepancy about the two warehouses. And second, Tom and Lyle were making it very clear that they were still unhappy that she was the lead on this project.
“The paperwork was very clear, Isabella.” Tom’s voice came through the speaker sitting in the middle of the table. “The warehouse in Chicago is being operated out of GWI’s Toronto offices.”
“It’s been in operation for five years,” Lyle added. “So far everything checks out perfectly. We should be able to wrap this up by the end of the week.”
“Just a paperwork glitch. I’ll call the firm and let them know,” Tom said, obviously trying to reassert his seniority with her.
“Not just yet, Tom. We still have some investigating to do before I report back.”
“Certainly, if you want to delay this matter. It’s on you.”
By the look on Clay and Jay’s faces she could tell they were pissed with Tom’s insubordination.
When they leaned forward to respond to him, she hit the mute button. “I got this, guys. Okay?”
They nodded but their demeanor didn’t change. Tom was lucky that the Atlantic Ocean was between him and them.
She unmuted the call. “Tom, listen to me and listen good. I know you and Lyle are not happy with this situation—me being in charge—but that’s how it is, like it or not. And the three of us have a job to do. We are representing MJK and if we miss anything, it will reflect on the firm. So, here’s what I want you to do. Recheck the records for any anomalies. Go through every invoice and purchase order for the past six months. See if the names Alberto Gonzales or Kenneth Mason have ever appeared anywhere on that warehouse’s paperwork.”
Moody had mentioned Kenneth Mason’s name that first day in his office.
“Kenneth Mason is my man on the ground there. See him. He’ll know what to do.”
There was a long pause.
Finally, Tom responded, his tone slightly softer than before. “You’re right. You’re the boss on this one. And all three of us want to do a good job for the firm. Lyle and I will get started immediately. When do you want us to report back, Isabella?”
It felt good to finally have some of Tom’s respect, if only a little.
“If you find anything, anything at all, call me on my cell in case I’m not in the office. Otherwise, let’s talk again at 6pm, Chicago time.”
“That’ll be midnight in London. Are you sure, boss?” Lyle asked in a tone absent sarcasm.
Boss. I like the sound of that. Lyle seemed to have done a complete turnabout in regards to her. Tom would likely take a little bit longer but at least he wasn’t being a total asshole.
“Just one second, guys.” She muted the speaker again and looked at Clay and Jay. “I know we were supposed to have dinner at Gordon Ramsay’s but I want—”
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” Clay said. “We can have the food delivered here. After what we learned at the warehouse today, all three of us want the same thing.”
Jay nodded. “To get to the bottom of this as fast as we can.”
“Thank you.” She unmuted the call. “Yes, Lyle. We’ll be working until the early morning. Talk to you soon.”
She, Clay and Jay worked for hours, going through every report they could find from the Spanish office. But they found nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, the records were completely clean. In her opinion, they were too clean. Like someone had set them up recently and backdated every file to fit the five-year timeline.
Clay was in another room on a call with Spain, trying to get answers. Jay was talking with Janice in her office, filling her in on what had happened at the warehouse with Alberto Gonzales.
Izzy starred at her laptop’s screen, frustrated beyond measure. She knew something was wrong with both Chicago and London, but the proof she needed didn’t seem to be anywhere in GWI’s system. Think, Izzy. What are you missing?
She closed her eyes, mentally running through the few facts they did know. Both warehouses had been opened within a month of each other five years ago. Coincidence? Unlikely. The inventory records were in order. Coming in and going out. Everything matched perfectly. Strange. There was no breakage or loss, which would’ve been expected in normal operations. But that wasn’t enough proof. And who was behind this? Alberto Gonzales? Clay and Jay’s uncle, Bill Moody, CEO of GWI? Both of them? Were there more?
The back of her neck tingled, which had always been a sign to her when she was getting close to the truth. Why had Moody put her in charge of this project over Tom and Lyle? She recalled how Moody had looked at her when her cell had rung during their meeting. She’d emptied out her purse on the table, looking for her glasses. He probably though
t I was a ditz.
She was bound and determined to prove him wrong. She grabbed a pen and paper and began writing down everything she could remember about the meeting in Dallas with him. Moody had been on the phone when she, Lyle, and Tom had arrived. What were his exact words to the other person on the phone?
“Get the shipment sitting at Tibury to its destination ASAP. Understand?”
Tibury? She ran a search on that through GWI’s systems. The port of Tibury was the principal shipping port of London that GWI moved their products through.
Moody had to be behind this.
Kenneth Mason. Moody had mentioned that Mason was his man on the ground in Tibury.
She quickly typed in Kenneth Mason’s name into GWI’s system. Mason was a senior lead in London for GWI. Mason worked for the Vice President of Special Projects, Paul Links. Links’s office was at GWI’s headquarters in Dallas and the man reported directly to Moody. How many people were involved in this conspiracy? Conspiracy? That’s exactly what this is.
Clay and Jay walked back into the conference room together.
“Dead end with Spain so far, sweetheart,” Clay told her. “But I’m still digging.”
“And Janice is up to speed.” Jay sat down next to her. “But she still can’t imagine how that much inventory could have been shipped into London without her knowledge. Truthfully, I can’t either.”
“Through Tibury, that’s how—under the guise of a GWI special project.” She took in a deep breath. How would they react to her accusing their uncle of embezzling?
“What, Izzy?” Clay locked his gaze with hers. “Whatever you’ve figured out you can tell us.”
Jay grabbed her hand. “You discovered something, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “But the rest of what I have to say may not be something you want to hear.”
“Sweetheart, no matter what you’ve found we will handle it together.” Clay took her other hand. “The three of us.”
“I believe your uncle is behind everything.” She told them about Moody’s phone conversation.