Show Me the Money

by Connie Shelton

  Finally, two hours later, from the kitchen she heard a ping.

  “Yay,” she said to the houseplant. “Answers!”

  Her optimism was unfounded. A box in the center of her screen said No Matches Found. Well, rats.

  “Okay.” She paced the width of her little office, muttering. “Where else? Just because he worked in New York doesn’t mean he lives there. So—neighboring states. Maybe he’s from Connecticut or New Jersey or Delaware … or even Pennsylvania.”

  This could take a very long time.

  At least her movements were quicker this time. She repeated the steps of revising the code, entering the parameters, and starting a new search. Connecticut took slightly less time, but the disappointing answer was the same. No matches. She retried, setting it up for New Jersey and thinking she should have gone back to the forum and asked if there was a way to do this for the entire country at once.

  But there was a nagging little something in her mind, the worry that if badkitty spoke up she would be noticed and could be caught. She was in enough deep doo-doo with the law already.

  She went into the living room and picked up a novel Pen had loaned her, stretching out on the long sofa in the half-hearted belief that she might actually be able to concentrate on it. At least it was a way to pass the time. Three paragraphs into the first page, she fell asleep.

  When she woke up the angle of the sun told her it was midafternoon. Feeling draggy, she rolled off the couch and stood up to stretch. Her computer search! She hurried into her office and woke up the darkened computer screen.

  There was a match.

  Her hand shook as she picked up her phone to call a meeting of the Heist Ladies.

  Chapter 50

  “His real name is Cody Baker,” Amber told the group who’d gathered at her condo. “And I got an address in Newark. In general, it fits with his schooling and work history.”

  “His made-up history,” Gracie reminded.

  “True. But it’s harder for a kid to fake the info on his driver’s license. He received his when he was only eighteen, and probably had to provide his birth certificate at the time, so most likely the address is, or was, his childhood home.” Pen pointed out those details from the computer screen Amber showed them.

  “So, do we jump on a plane and head there?” Mary had an eager gleam in her eye.

  Sandy seemed more pensive. “Baker …. Baker … Where do we know that name?”

  Gracie held up an index finger in a Sherlock Holmes ah-ha gesture. “The corporation. Blandishment Inc. Its registered agent with the Division of Corporations in Delaware was listed as Woodrow Wilson Baker.”

  “I guess I was so focused on the odd use of Woodrow Wilson that Baker didn’t click with me,” Amber said.

  “Another alias of Cody?” Mary suggested.

  “Maybe. Could also be a relative, or someone else’s alias,” Pen said.

  “Do you think the woman you spoke to in Delaware would recognize Cody’s photo as the person who set up the corporation?”

  Pen gave it no more than a moment’s thought. “I doubt it. She said they do hundreds of these a year.”

  “That might not be terribly important,” Gracie said. “The crucial details are that we have already connected the money missing from Amber’s employer with this Blandishment Inc. Now, if we can connect Cody Baker to this other Baker person, surely the police will have to listen when we tell them.”

  Sandy had another question. “Amber, could that program of yours locate this Woodrow Wilson Baker? I’m wondering if Cody could have set up multiple identities for himself.”

  Amber sat in her desk chair again and turned the computer screen so the others couldn’t see. It was best if they didn’t know exactly where she was when she logged into the New Jersey DMV. “This could take a few minutes. Do we want to order some take-out? I haven’t eaten since—I don’t remember exactly.”

  “You still have those menus in the kitchen drawer?” Gracie asked, taking the hint and leading the others from the room.

  It took a slightly different pathway to search for a name rather than a photo, but Amber quickly figured out how to do it. By the time Mary and Gracie returned with a bag of barbeque sandwiches and various salads, she was able to join them at the kitchen counter with a report.

  “I found this Woodrow Wilson Baker guy,” she said. “The good news is that an unusual name comes up pretty quickly. The bad news is that he’s dead.”

  Amber held out a printed page, a copy of the driver’s license of Woodrow Wilson Baker. It pictured an old man whose age at the time was well into his eighties. “Obviously, this isn’t an alias for Cody. Unless he’s got an expert makeup artist and someone within the DMV who would let the proof of age requirement slide.”

  The women passed the printed image around, studying it. “Hard to tell if there’s any resemblance to Cody. They list the same eye color, but I don’t see much else,” Sandy said. She had carried plates in from the kitchen and set them on the table. “Do you think this guy would have had the know-how to set up such an elaborate con?”

  Pen was studying Amber’s face. “There’s more?”

  “The weird news is that he died two years before his name was signed to the paperwork for Blandishment Inc.”

  “What?”

  “This man couldn’t have set it up.”

  “So, that means … what, exactly?” Mary asked as she passed out sandwiches and set out containers of potato salad and coleslaw.

  “I’d like to know why no one checked to see that the identity of the person forming the company was a dead man,” Sandy said.

  Gracie answered. “The woman on the phone told me that the whole process is quick and simple. I could call her back and ask more, but I got the feeling nothing really has to stand up to scrutiny.”

  “Maybe we can locate some other relatives of Cody’s? See if one of them is the man named in the paperwork?” Mary suggested.

  “Baker is a pretty common last name. We could be spinning our wheels for a very long time,” Gracie said.

  “Not with computer searches,” Amber said. “I can give it a try. We do have an address.”

  “Good idea,” Pen said. “Now, what else can we check? Do we need more information on this quickie corporation of his?”

  “I’ll volunteer, if there’s travel involved,” Mary said, raising a hand.

  The others laughed. “You’re just eager to get away to somewhere that really feels like autumn,” Sandy teased. “I would have traded a drenching in northern Scotland with you.”

  Amber had polished off her sandwich and seemed eager to get back to work. “I had another thought. Even if we do locate other Baker relatives, we still have to keep our eye on the goal of getting our hands on Cody.” She blushed a little. “Well, not literally. Getting him in sight so the cops can grab him.”

  “Precisely. What do you have in mind?” Pen asked.

  “I’ve texted back and forth with him a little, as you know. He’s hinting that he is still working in Paris, which we’re pretty sure is pure b.s., so I’ve been thinking of ways to figure out where he really is.”

  “And?”

  “I’m going to suggest a video chat. He has Facetime. We used to talk quite a bit before we ever met in person. I’ll suggest that and see if I can pick up any clues about where he really is. For sure, if he’s back in that Paris apartment—”

  “He won’t be,” Sandy assured her.

  “Most likely not. But I might recognize something else. I’ll suggest we each pick our favorite outdoor café and have a virtual lunch together. I can make it sound romantic but really it will be research.”

  “I like it,” Pen said.

  Chapter 51

  Cody stared at his phone messages, torn about accepting Amber’s idea. Although they were in different cities, she suggested, they could each go to a favorite outdoor café and have a video lunch together. Hadn’t she hinted that she might return to Paris if he wanted her to? How
was he going to fake a Parisian backdrop from here? He chewed on a dry cuticle and debated how to phrase his answer.

  There was a lot going on right now. Watching the various bank accounts daily, making certain he was happy with where he had stashed the money, including what was in the account he’d given his dad. It appeared Woody was spending some, but he hadn’t drained the account or anything.

  He was keeping an eye on the news reports. Nothing more had come out about Amber’s arrest, although clearly she had either been questioned and released or was out on bond. She couldn’t very well be offering up a restaurant lunch if she were behind bars, and she probably wouldn’t have her phone with her either. He felt torn. If she’d gotten away with it, that was a good thing. But it was still a big unknown. A video chat could be a good way to quiz her for more information.

  Then there were the calls from work. Why couldn’t his manager just drop it? Because you’re the sharpest programmer he’s had in his department in a very long time. He doesn’t want to go through the hassle of finding someone else. Well, that wasn’t happening. Too risky. Staying on the move was better right now.

  He reread Amber’s latest text. He really wanted to see her. Surely he could find a French restaurant around here somewhere. This was a big city. If there was one thing he did well, it was bluffing his way through different situations. He texted back a yes. He had until tomorrow at noon to find the right spot.

  First though, he needed to line up a better place to stay. Even the cheap motels were eating through his cash and he was trying not to leave a trail with credit cards, at least until he could get some new fake ones set up. He called his old landlady, the one who watched game shows all day, and she said sure, his old room hadn’t rented yet so he could come back. What the hey, he decided, it was cheap and she had decent Wi-Fi, and it was handy to the bus line so he could get around.

  He went there now, taking the express bus away from downtown and walking the final few blocks to the house. Doing this bothered him a little. He needed to break the habit of reverting back to his old haunts. That’s how guys got caught. At least no one knew about his living quarters—he’d given the landlady a fake name and he paid in cash. She wouldn’t say anything, most likely wouldn’t even if a cop showed up with his picture in hand. She liked the money.

  Back in his old room now, he set up the laptop he’d been carrying everywhere in his backpack. It still recognized the household Wi-Fi and he was online right away. He searched first for French restaurants, anywhere along the bus line would do.

  Chapter 52

  Amber stared at her image in the mirror. What am I doing? She’d applied way more than her normal eye makeup, and her deep brown skin looked radiant. Even her hair was behaving today. She had debated trying to fool Cody into thinking she really had flown back to Paris to be with him, but decided it was just too much effort. Realistically, he expected her to be in Phoenix at her desk. Life was just a breeze, right?

  On the other hand, she had chosen an outdoor café with a French look about it. The point was to make him believe this was a romantic lunch, and she planned to order wine with her food. But she also remembered his genius computer skills and wouldn’t put it past him to know a way to track her exact location.

  With that in mind, she would drive across the city to Tempe, miles away from her home. After the stunt he’d pulled, she thought it only fair that she keep the upper hand this time around. She gave a final tug to an unruly curl and turned away from the mirror. Taking a deep breath she walked down to her car and proceeded to coach herself on acting romantic. Although she was no actress, she couldn’t blow the mission now.

  Le Petit Parapluie, the restaurant she’d chosen, was an old favorite from her college days, one that was a little too pricey for everyday meals, but she’d been there a few times on dates. The onion soup was a favorite. She arrived twenty minutes before noon and asked for a table in a corner. It would be tricky enough, this acting gig, in front of Cody. She really didn’t want to invite an audience.

  While she waited for him to come online, she flipped over to her weather app and looked up the weather in Paris. Rainy. Interesting. If he really was there, would he still opt for an outdoor venue? Doubtful. Just then the Facetime tone alerted her—it was showtime.

  She had to remind herself that she was the one who’d suggested they get together, so she put on her brightest smile as she answered the call.

  “Hey—wow. I’m so glad you were able to do this,” she said.

  “Me too. I’ve really missed you.”

  His facial expression seemed genuine—longing, maybe some regret? She tried hard to read him and keep up her perky, friendly attitude.

  “So, how are things? Work going okay? Paris still having gorgeous weather?”

  His eyes cut to the side. “Yeah, uh, well, you know. Work is same old, same old. Weather’s not bad. Getting a little colder.”

  “Aim your phone around the room,” she asked. “I want to see. Are you at one of the places we went together?”

  “Uh, no. This is a different one. And it’s really nothing. Kind of a dive, actually. How about you? What kind of restaurant did you choose?” Smooth way to change the subject.

  “Well, French, of course.” Her waiter showed up just then, carrying a tray and carefully setting a bowl down. “I’ve ordered the onion soup. Even though it’s not exactly genuine, and nothing like eating it right there in Paris, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

  Cody didn’t appear to be eating anything. She used the distraction of cutting through the cheesy topping on her soup to focus her attention on his surroundings, but it was hard to tell much. Clearly, he was in some kind of public place. People moved behind him in the distance, and there were general noises—conversations, dishes, maybe something like a TV in the background. She listened for Jersey accents but the clatter was too chaotic.

  “Hey, I … I don’t know whether to bring this up or not,” he said, looking a little uneasy, as if someone else might be there judging what he said. “I heard you were arrested.”

  Amber dropped her spoon before she remembered she was supposed to believe he was in Paris. “All the way over there?”

  “It was on the news. Nothing very specific. Are you okay? I mean, obviously you’re not—”

  “No, I’m not. I have a good lawyer.”

  “Is it going to be all right? This lawyer, he’ll get you off, right?”

  “Let’s not talk about this.” She watched his face carefully as she cut off the topic. He seemed relieved.

  “Okay—you’re so right. I wanted this to be a romantic lunch. I hope it works out for us to be together again soon.” He sounded sincere.

  But, she reminded herself, all con men sound sincere. It’s what they do best. Establish empathy and make their victims believe anything they say. She’d recently watched an interview with a woman who pleaded, with tears in her eyes, for the release of her sweet innocent son who was wrongly accused. Anyone watching the show would believe everything she said. Later, the son confessed to two murders and gave all the details, including the fact that his mother had watched while he carried them out.

  Suddenly, Amber had no appetite. “Look, I’ve got a really full afternoon. It was great to see you, and maybe we can do it again sometime?”

  “Sure. I really want to.” Just as Cody spoke a couple in shorts and t-shirts passed behind him. The guy’s shirt had an ASU logo, and Amber caught a scrap of their conversation. The woman was describing the location of a mall that was no more than ten miles away from where Amber was sitting right now. She quickly cut off the video call, her heart pounding.

  Could it be that he was this close? And why? How?

  Her hand was shaking too much to manage her soup spoon. She tossed her napkin down and left some money on the table. She had to get out of here.

  Chapter 53

  “Okay, I didn’t actually believe he would be in Paris,” Amber told Gracie a half-hour later. The Nelson
’s house was the first place she could think to go that was a fairly short drive. “But it never occurred to me he might be right here in this city.”

  Gracie knelt in front of a flat of bedding plants, pansies and petunias, which she was planting in pots for her front porch. The upcoming cooler weather would be ideal for them, and she’d decided to take advantage of the couple of days Scott was away on business. She paused with her small spade in midair. “You mentioned a snippet of conversation you overheard. Was it enough to know he’s somewhere in the Phoenix area?”

  “There were just lots of clues. He sat at an outdoor table—I could see large plants in the background. All the voices—yes, they were indistinct, but they were American accents. There was no French being spoken. There was the ASU logo on someone’s t-shirt. People were wearing shorts! Right now it’s raining in Paris, and it would be dark.”

  “He’s from New Jersey or New York …”

  “Where it would be pretty cold for shorts and t-shirts this time of year.”

  “Sounds like good detective work on your part,” Gracie said, scooping potting soil around the four small plants she had just placed.

  Amber let some of the tension flow from her shoulders. “Thanks. Maybe that’s what I needed to hear.”

  She knelt on the porch step. “Gracie, can I tell you something that I don’t really want to share with the other ladies?”

  “Honey, sure you can.”

  “In some way I think I really still wanted him to be genuine. I still don’t know for a fact that he’s the bad guy, I mean, yeah there was the cash in my suitcase. But I … he … well, I thought in Paris that we really had something.”

  “I know.”

  “Could I be that bad a judge of character, so bad I would be with a guy who lies and steals?”

  Gracie’s mouth crooked upward at one corner. “Hormones at work.” She laid one palm on the edge of the terra cotta pot. “Hey, we’ve all been there, gotten mixed up with the wrong guy, fallen for somebody totally wrong.”