“Do you know of instances where that has happened? Something ‘shady’ or illegal?”
Lily paused. “Well, no. I mean I really can’t say that it’s ever happened. We don’t ask.”
“Doesn’t the paperwork require them to state the nature of their business?”
“Oh, yeah, but it can be pretty vague. A lot of them just have something like, the purpose of the business is to buy and sell products. Or, the purpose of the business is financial.”
“Ah, I see. And then when someone wants to look up information about one of those businesses, is it readily available?”
“Oh yes. By law. They can either call us or come by, or there’s now an online search feature.” Lily rattled off a website address.
“And once the person has set up their corporation …”
“Oh, they can do anything that any other business does. Set up a store or office, open bank accounts, get a tax identification number. They’re in business.”
“Just that easy.”
“Yep. Was there anything else you needed to know?”
“Well, I did come across a business recently that I was curious about,” Pen said, deciding to keep young Lily talking. “It’s called Blandishment Inc., and I do believe their advertising materials stated they were incorporated in Delaware.”
“One moment, and I can tell you. Um, Ms. Fitzpatrick? Is this going into a story of yours?”
“Maybe, someday.”
Computer keys ticked away in the background while Lily kept talking, going on about her favorites of Pen’s books. Within two minutes, she switched topics again. “Okay, here’s what the official documents say about Blandishment Inc. Cute name, by the way. Doesn’t it mean something like insincere flattery?”
Pen caught her breath. How appropriate for what Cody Brennan had done.
“Never mind,” Lily was saying. “The principal officer in the corporation is a Woodrow Wilson Baker. Hm, why does that name sound familiar?”
“Woodrow Wilson was president of the United States at the time of the Great War,” Pen said. “Actually, World War One.”
“Really? Hm. I must have learned that in school.”
“Is there other information on the paperwork?”
“Well, they did just what I was telling you about. Used our street address for the business. The purpose of the business is listed as Horses. Whatever that means.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope. That’s it. This Wilson guy is the only officer on the paperwork. He’s president, secretary, board member, and contact person.”
“And it’s legal to do that?”
“A lot of states like to see at least two officers, but sometimes it really is just one person starting a business on their own.”
Pen was feeling a bit stumped and was unsure what else to ask. “All right, then. Thank you so much for your assistance, Lily.”
“Do I still get a signed book?”
Pen smiled. “Absolutely. Give me your address.”
That accomplished and the call ended, Pen sat back in her chair and went through the conversation once again. She had learned something, but she was not at all certain what.
A scrap of paper on her desk caught her eye, the reminder that she was also to research Cody Brennan’s university credentials and find out what she could learn from that.
Chapter 26
It was Gracie who called the meeting. Each of the Ladies had been on her own research mission. It was time to try and put some of the puzzle pieces together. Sandy offered to host them at her house, which was centrally located for all, and although she offered to cook, Gracie insisted on bringing a big assortment of takeout Chinese so they could focus on plans rather than cleanup.
Sandy’s two black cats, Heckle and Jeckle, greeted each guest at the door and led the way to the dining room with excited meows, once they caught the scent of the chicken in Gracie’s containers. Amber was the last to arrive.
“Sorry, last minute call from my parents,” she told them. “Even when I explained I was driving, Mom couldn’t stop asking questions. They still think I should pack up and get myself to Santa Fe.”
“First things first,” Sandy said, setting a stack of plates on the table. “Let’s get our dinner while it’s still hot.”
No one argued with that logic.
Once they were all seated, with full plates, Amber was the first to report. “I cornered a friend from work, out at the favorite happy hour bar. Unless the rumors are way off base, the amount the company believes is missing matches pretty closely with what Sandy and I discovered from the bank transfers on my computer.”
“This is not good,” Mary said, swallowing a mouthful of Kung Pao Chicken.
“Definitely not good,” Amber agreed. “It’s not going to be long before an investigator follows the same trail of keystrokes from my computer and concludes that I’m the guilty party.”
“What will they do? I mean, is this investigation going to stay within Blackwell-Gorse, or will the police become involved?” Mary asked.
Sandy spoke up. “My guess would be that the company will first try to determine if the theft came from within or was done by an outsider. Either way, they’ll most likely turn it over to the police. If they can pin it to an employee,” she said with a rueful look at Amber, “they’ll terminate that person and press charges. And since it’s a large enough amount to qualify as a felony, the police and prosecutor will pursue it as such. At least that’s what I’ve seen happen at the bank.”
Pen was nodding. “I believe Benton has told me of similar cases during his career. I think you’re right.”
Amber wasn’t looking too well.
“But,” Pen said, “we’ve been checking a number of avenues to catch this Cody person, and we’ll have some ammunition for your defense. If it comes to that.”
“Where do we stand with our various inquiries?” Grace asked.
Pen reported on the corporate name they’d discovered, Blandishment Inc., and her call to the Delaware firm that had set it up. “I’m not sure what connection there could be between Cody and this Woodrow Wilson person listed on the corporate paperwork but that’s an angle we’ve yet to pursue. It may be completely unrelated, as the purpose of the business was stated as ‘horses.’ I’ve no idea how to interpret that.”
“Using a long ago president’s name seems completely bogus,” Amber said. She was toying with an egg roll, dipping it repeatedly in sauce but not taking a bite.
“None of his claims of university degrees have panned out, have they?” Gracie asked.
Pen shook her head.
“But does that matter, really?” Mary asked. “Whether he went to a certain school or not—how does that help our case?”
“True. He’s not in school now, not if he’s living and working in Paris.” Amber caught herself. “Or if he’s pretending to live and work in Paris. He doesn’t seem to be tied to academia.”
“Well, his position at Omni Corp was a fake, or nearly so, taking a temporary job just to get in and establish an identity.”
“So if he’s no longer at Omni, where is he?” Sandy asked the obvious question. “Amber, do you believe he is still living in Paris?”
Amber shrugged. “I have no idea. He seemed so confident and at home there. So maybe yes, maybe he’s been there all along, just as he told me.”
“Perhaps a couple of us should go there and try to track him down,” Pen suggested. “I’ll arrange—”
“I can’t let you pay for tickets to—”
Pen laid a hand on Amber’s arm. “It’s a small price to pay to clear your name. Consider it a loan, if you must, but I insist on doing this for you.”
“It would be a good opportunity to check on the money, as well. To see if the account there might contain the rest of what’s missing from your company,” Sandy said.
Amber slowly nodded. “And maybe I can work some of my magic, even from home, to see what I can learn about the movement of
the money.”
“Be cautious about that,” Gracie said, reaching for the carton of General Tso’s Chicken and scooping more onto her plate. “If the police are watching you, they could confiscate your personal computer too. They’d know every move you made.”
Sandy nodded. “We all very well know that all computer searches leave a trail.” She pushed some grains of rice around her plate with her chopsticks. “I’ll tell you what—there’s a brand new laptop computer at my office. Corporate ordered new ones for all our administrators, and we happen to be down one person right now so it hasn’t been assigned to anyone. I’ll loan it to you, as long as you promise to wipe out your browsing history when you’ve finished with it.”
“Traces of things could still show up,” Amber pointed out.
“But whatever scraps might be there would have no relation to the person who ends up with the computer later, for his or her job.”
“Okay, it’s a deal,” Amber said. “Which brings up my next concern. I’ve had the strongest feeling, ever since I’ve been put on leave, that I’m being watched.”
“The police?” Mary asked.
“No idea. When I left Buster’s Pub after happy hour I even thought I caught a glimpse of a guy who looked a lot like Cody. I know—I’m probably losing it, thinking I’m seeing him around every corner. I’d feel a lot better, whether it’s the police or Cody or just some boogeyman, if I didn’t have the hard drive I copied from B-G in my possession. What can I do with it?”
“I can put it in a safe deposit box at the bank,” Sandy offered.
“No, if it’s discovered you did that for me, it could risk your job.”
“Agreed,” said Gracie. “We can’t have all of us unemployed. Who’s going to take Amber in when she becomes homeless?”
The joke kind of fell flat.
“I’ll take the hard drive,” Mary said. “No one would tie us together in this way. I’m not your banker or your lawyer, just a friend you meet for meals now and then. I’ll carry it in my tote bag. It’ll be in my locker at the gym when I’m there and under my mattress when I’m home. In the worst case scenario, if the cops bust in and demand a search of my gym gear, I’ll toss it into a bin of dirty towels until they leave.”
The image drew a laugh, until Amber spoke again. “Thanks, guys. This is the scariest crap of my life, having everyone but you guys believe I’m guilty. And I can’t figure out a way to prove my innocence.”
“We’ll do it,” Pen said. “Somehow, we shall get the evidence to prove your case.”
Now to be certain they accomplished it before the police closed in and Amber faced a prison term.
Chapter 27
The flight to Paris took off late, which was the only reason Cody got a ticket, and it was a crappy seat at the very back, right next to the lavatories. When he and Woody had landed in New York was when the idea struck him. He’d cleared all his personal gear from game-show-lady’s house, packing it into one suitcase and a backpack, leaving her with the bonus of an extra week’s rent on the room. So why hang around, commuting out to Jersey with Pop, then having to come back to catch an overseas flight?
He quickly saw his father down to the commuter trains, looking up flights on his phone as they walked. Air France had one seat and he took it, realizing the flight was already boarding. It was a mad scramble through the JFK terminal, presenting his passport, pushing through security, and onto the jetway moments before they closed it.
He ordered a drink and leaned back with his eyes closed. Mentally, he tallied his resources. He had kept Pop out of the casino, pretending the idea of going to Paris was brilliant and the quicker the better. That gave him enough cash for the ticket and a place to stay once he got there.
He’d done a no-show at the job on the 14th floor. If his supervisor didn’t like it, fine. Let ’em have it. Although he had to admit it would be fun to have planted a camera there so he could see just how long it would take anyone to notice he was gone. Part of his success as a con man, according to Pop, was Cody’s ability to blend in, to disappear when he needed to, hiding in plain sight.
Seeing Amber outside that pub place a few nights ago was a prime example. He peered in the windows after he spotted her walking in there, saw her sitting at a table with some girls about her age, then he’d hung close by, meandering across the street, walking down the block and back. He watched the front door, unsure after thirty minutes whether she had got past him with the rest of the departing crowd. So he’d walked back and looked in the window again. She was gone.
Just as he was deciding what to do next, she’d come popping out the front door, not ten feet from him. Instinctively, he turned his back and knelt to tie his shoelace. She’d walked right past him.
“Sir, would you like another drink?” the flight attendant asked. “We’ll be serving dinner in thirty minutes, then we will dim the cabin lights for the night.”
She was pretty, a blonde he might have previously flirted with. But compared to Amber she seemed too pale, too dimpled. He shook his head and she turned to the passengers across the aisle.
So, Paris. Unlike Pop, Cody liked to have a plan in place. He ticked off some items in his head. Get a place to stay. It didn’t need to be fancy, like last time, as he would only be there a couple of days. Polish up his Cody Brennan persona and visit the bank to draw out the rest of the money in that account. Cash money—God, Pop, this is so dumb.
He fidgeted in his seat, wondering if he would get caught with it, the same way Amber did.
He could smell the food coming down the aisle, and his stomach growled. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d eaten.
To take his mind off it, he went back to the plan. His last check on the Paris bank account showed a reasonably small balance, less than ten grand. So that would work. He wouldn’t need to declare it. He could get to England before deciding how to handle the hundred-fifty grand he’d stashed there.
By the time the food cart reached the last row, the attendant apologized that the only thing left was the pasta. Would that be okay? At this point he could eat cardboard. He took it, and the ravioli actually wasn’t bad. Stomach satisfied, he handed the tray back, slid down in his seat, and closed his eyes.
He didn’t wake up until the breakfast announcement came. He got a croissant and cup of strong coffee out of that deal. He’d have to look for something more substantial once they landed. As soon as the person in the window seat raised the shade he leaned forward and stared out. There was nothing but white, and as the plane descended on final approach, he knew it would be a rainy, gray day.
Chapter 28
“I love it that we get to fly business class,” Sandy told Pen, handing her empty champagne glass to the flight attendant.
“Luckily, seats together were available on short notice.” They were priced in the same neighborhood as diamonds, but Pen wasn’t going to bring that up. And she most certainly wouldn’t tell Amber the actual cost of this trip, should her young friend insist on reimbursing her.
The main thing now was to track the stolen money and get the local authorities to realize the importance of freezing the assets until the whole debacle of Amber’s supposed involvement could be straightened out. Sandy’s banking experience would be invaluable. And Amber’s notes about addresses in Paris were going to save them a lot of legwork, assuming Cody still lived in the same apartment.
Amber had performed a search and found a nice hotel for them in Cody’s neighborhood, hoping to make it easy for the ladies to get around to the important stops on their agenda.
They chatted through their dinner of filet mignon and roasted Brussels sprouts, toasted with another glass of champagne (the real thing, since they were on Air France), and snuggled into their reclining seats with their down duvets for a movie before sleep overtook them. When they woke it was to a gloriously sunny day, and Pen felt hopeful for their mission.
They checked into the Ritz, and treated themselves to a leisurely brunch before
taking on the French bankers. One of the reasons Pen had purposely chosen the renowned luxury hotel was because it was near the bank where they had traced Cody’s money transfer. They gathered their jackets and purses and set off through the lobby, stopping to get directions from the concierge.
“Oui, madam, it is an easy walk.” The forty-ish man with dark, close-cropped hair pulled out a street map and drew a line. “From our front entrance, go to the right, oui? Then you will turn, just here, and two blocks more. There you will see the bank.”
“After our meeting, we need to find this neighborhood,” Pen said, pulling out her notes with the street names Amber had listed for her. “I’m not sure of the exact building, but it’s an intersection where these streets come together.”
He gave her an indulgent smile, being too well trained to be discourteous to a wealthy tourist. “If you are enjoying your walk, you would simply come back to this point,” he said, indicating a spot one block from the hotel. “Then walk through the Jardin de Tuileries, cross the bridge here. It is several blocks, but today the weather is fine. You are lucky to come now. It is predicted to rain next week. Still, if you will be out several hours, I recommend you carry your umbrellas. This time of the year, things can change quickly.”
“I suppose if the weather turns or we get tired, we can always get a taxi?” Sandy suggested.
“Certainement. Have a most pleasant day, ladies.”
The man was correct, they discovered, stepping outside. The temperature was nearly sixty, the sun was bright, and the brilliant orange and red leaves on the trees gave the surrounding cream-colored buildings a colorful and festive air. They located the Banque Internationale without any problem, and asked at reception for Monsieur LeBlanc, the manager with whom Sandy had exchanged several emails before they left Phoenix.
Show Me the Money Page 9