by Pill, Maggie
Rory asked quietly, “Might those passwords be yours?”
Wozniak tapped the photograph. “As I said, there are hundreds of those drives around here. I couldn’t say whose files would be on it.”
Rory took a sheet of paper from the folder and laid it beside the photo. “This is a printout of one of the files on the drive. Now can you identify it?”
His face went pale, and he set his hands on the edge of the desk, as if holding himself in his chair. “You say Carina gave Brown this?”
Rory gave me a tiny nod, and I explained. “Carina and Carson were fighting when Neil arrived at the apartment that day. Neil intervened and Carson gave up, promising he’d do what Carina wanted him to. Your daughter told Neil the matter was between you and them, but as he was leaving, she gave him the drive. He says they were both alive when he left them.”
Wozniak summoned his anger once more, shaking his head as if to keep my words from getting in. “He killed my children!” Picking the paper up, he shook it at Rory and me. “Carina must have found out he planned to rob me and told her brother. When Brown found out, he killed them.” His eyes turned red. “I’d give him the money right now if it brought my children back!”
Rory asked softly, “Does that file contain information about your personal finances?”
Stan nodded, still emotional. “My son would not steal from me. He—he wouldn’t.”
Rory picked up the papers and put them back into the folder. “We’ll find out the truth, no matter who’s guilty. I suggest you change the passwords on your accounts, even if those aren’t current. Someone stole that information, and we don’t know who it was.”
I was pretty sure I knew. Carson had been at Stan’s house. Neil hadn’t. Carina had been angry with Carson over something he’d done that would upset his father. Carson had cultivated a friendship with the tech. Carson had wanted to be a big shot in California, but his father had cut off the funding. Carson had stolen the files, but he’d probably needed help with the rest of it, someone to help him transfer money from Stan’s files to somewhere else.
Stan wasn’t about to admit any of that. “If my son were foolish enough to share my private information with anyone, it would have been with the only person he knew in Allport, his brother-in-law. Carson was young and perhaps a little unwise in the area of finance.”
“You’re saying he might have planned something with Brown and then wanted to back out at the last minute?” It sounded all too plausible when Rory said it.
“Carson might have been briefly misled, but he would never have followed through.” Stan’s anger rose again, and he returned to what his type does best, threats. “No matter what the reasons were, we all know who killed my children. Ms. Evans might not want to face the facts, but I expect, Chief Neuencamp, that Neil Brown will be held in custody until his trial. He’s an obvious flight risk, and I’ve waited six years. Now, do your job and see justice done.”
Rory rose, nodded in a manner that was barely polite, and said to me, “I think we should let Mr. Wozniak get back to business, Barb.” There were no further pleasantries as we left, but I sensed Stan’s stare aimed at the center of my back like a steel-tipped dart.
As we stepped out of the elevator we met two men waiting to go up. One I recognized, Eric DuBois. The other had such a grumpy expression that he looked like a cartoon character, complete with everything but the black cloud over his head.
“Mrs. Evans, nice to see you again,” Eric said. Turning to Rory he put out a hand. “You must be Chief Neuencamp. Eric DuBois.”
Rory shook hands with Eric then turned to the other man, whose bottom lip pressed upward, making an upside down smile. He took Rory’s hand in what seemed to me a reluctant gesture. “Miles Bonworth,” he said, barely moving his lips. The accountant Retta had mentioned.
Eric seemed embarrassed at the man’s unfriendly attitude. “Miles, this is Barbara Evans of the Smart Detective Agency.”
Bonworth looked me over appraisingly. “I thought you’d already caught your perp.”
“There are always loose ends to tie up in a case such as this,” Rory answered smoothly. “Mrs. Evans came with me today to help with that.”
Once again I was pleased at the skill with which he made my presence seem natural and necessary. The curve of Bonworth’s lips went even deeper.
“As a matter of fact, I have questions you might answer.” Rory turned to Eric. “Could I ask you to entertain Ms. Evans for a few minutes while I speak briefly with Mr. Bonworth?”
The tiniest glance from Rory gave me a clue to what he had in mind. These men had the know-how to have helped Carson in his scheme. One of them might be a killer. My job was to assess the likelihood that Eric DuBois was the one while Rory tackled Mr. Grump.
Eric agreed with a hint of gallantry, Bonworth with much less good grace, mumbling about having work to do, but we got back into the elevator and rode up to the second floor again. I saw Eric glance at the door to Stan’s office and wondered if he was recalling how angry his boss had been at my first visit. Nevertheless, he ushered me into his office, set a chair for me, and asked the assistant to get us cold drinks.
“So what has the chief of police got on his mind?” he asked with a knowing smile.
I wasn’t sure how much to tell, since a lot of what I thought I knew wasn’t proven. “The murder case has gotten a little more complicated,” I told him. “It seems someone intended to raid Mr. Wozniak’s personal accounts, though it never happened.”
He was silent for a few seconds, but his expression made me think he wasn’t surprised. “You think Carson was angry because Stan cut him off.”
“That’s one possibility. Someone copied Stan’s access information, which means that person was in the house and opened Stan’s personal computer. The question is could Carson have pulled something like that off by himself?”
DuBois thought about it. “I think so. I mean, just about anyone can copy a file.”
“But would he have known how to move funds from an off-shore account?”
“I’m not sure.” He gave me a direct look. “He might have had help in the family.”
I heard the warning in his voice. “You’re thinking Neil.”
His smile was grim. “Actually I was thinking both Neil and Carina.”
“Why?”
He bit his lip briefly then made a “why-not?” gesture. “I like Stan. I really do. He’s tough to work for, but we get along okay. That said, he had some issues as a father. He used money to reward and punish his kids, and they resented it.”
“I heard he cut Carson off the year before.”
“Yeah. Carson was a screw-up, but Stan didn’t help. The kid was always trying to plan some big thing that would make his dad proud of him. It was easy for unscrupulous types to suck him in and take his money. When Stan said no more, Carson was just a twenty-something, no-skills schmuck, and there are plenty of those in California. Last I knew he was working in a mom-and-pop pizza place and living in an apartment above it.”
“Quite a come-down from movie producer.”
“Exactly. Carson was desperate.”
“And Carina?”
“Her dad had put her in a really rough spot. She had to choose between Neil and Stan.”
“The job in Detroit.”
“Right. She’d almost convinced Neil to take it, but she knew it was a bad thing.”
“If Neil gave in to Stan’s demands once, he’d be forced to do it again and again.”
“Exactly.”
“So you’re saying the three of them conspired to rob Stan?”
Eric held up a hand. “I don’t know anything. You’re wondering who might have helped Carson out, and that’s what came to mind.” He gave a huff of dry humor. “Stan might not have even reported it. He wouldn’t wan
t anyone to know his own children stole from him.”
My mind was picking at the edges of Eric’s theory. “I’m pretty sure Neil Brown doesn’t know much about off-shore accounts.”
“No, but Carina did. She looked like her brain was fluff with her green fingernails and her baby-doll dresses, but she was very aware of Stan’s wealth. She came here all the time, and I’d see her picking up information. Once she sweet-talked Miles Bonworth into taking her to lunch, and Art Chalmers in technical support practically ate out of her hand.”
Rory appeared in the doorway, and I rose from my chair. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work, Eric. Thanks for the hospitality—and the information.”
Eric rose like the gentleman he was, but I thought he was relieved. He no doubt hoped Stan never found out he’d spoken to me, and he probably did have lots to do, so it had been good of him to be gracious about the interruption.
Once we were outside, Rory asked, “Did you find out anything?”
I told him Eric’s theory, ending with, “It’s plausible, except I can’t see Neil going along. He just isn’t the type to do something underhanded like that.”
“People can be deceptive,” Rory said, and I had to admit he was right. Neil had had six years to practice his innocent act, if in fact that’s what he was doing.
“What’d you learn from the money man, Bonworth?”
“The world is a mess. People are idiots. Our only salvation is mathematics.” Rory smiled before continuing. “He doesn’t think the son was smart enough to plan the scheme on his own. He hinted that Eric DuBois, is our culprit, probably because Bonworth hoped to be in the position DuBois now holds.” He raised one eyebrow. “Mr. Bonworth claims DuBois ‘cuddled up’ to the boss after his kids were murdered and ‘slithered’ into place next to the throne.”
“This all stems from jealousy?”
Rory shrugged. “It could have been DuBois, I suppose. He’d have the know-how.”
“As would Bonworth.”
“True. I just can’t see the guy allying with anyone long enough to hatch a plot. He’s a real loner. Besides, it seems like he doesn’t need to have money. He just needs to control it.”
“It’s kind of a psychological game, isn’t it—trying to figure out a person’s motives.”
“That’s how the interesting cases are.”
“Speaking of motives, why did you invite me to come out here with you? Were you mad at Stan for being a jerk to me last night?”
Rory’s tone was teasing. “Maybe I guessed your appearance at a charity ball was motivated by the chance to get to meet him.”
Retta might have told him that little tidbit, but I didn’t want to think where or when that had happened. While they were dancing last night, looking as smooth as if they’d been partners for years? Afterward, maybe, once she’d dropped me off at home?
“So why did you help me?” I asked to banish the images that were forming in my head.
“Well, I think you’re right. Wozniak doesn’t want to admit it, but Carson planned to steal from him. That Cayman Island account had over a million dollars in it, if our code-breaking skills are correct.”
I shook my head. “But according to Neil’s story, Carson had agreed to give up the plan and confess. It would have been over.”
“But his partner hadn’t agreed. Carson must have called to warn him it had all come apart. The kid didn’t realize that to protect himself from prosecution, the guy had to stop him.”
“By killing him. But he had to kill Carina, too, because she knew who he was.”
“When he threw suspicion onto Brown, he must have thought he’d cleaned up the mess nicely.” Rory opened the car door for me, and I got in and rolled the window down as he finished, “He didn’t get the money, but he managed to stay out of prison.”
“But when Faye and I went looking for Neil, we stirred it all up again.”
“He must have taken the flash drive he thought had the files on it. Later he found out he had the wrong one. Since Carson’s drive never showed up, he guessed Brown had it.” Rory sighed. “If your friend Neil had looked at that thing, he might have cleared himself years ago.”
I was stuck on the who rather than the what if. “We keep talking about this partner, but we have no idea who he is,” I said, glancing back at the WOZ building. “Carson wasn’t from Allport, so he didn’t know many people. Who would he have hatched this plot with?”
“According to your sister, he made it a point to meet the computer tech, but she thought he was a little too wimpy to be a murderer.”
Again I quelled a pang of jealousy at the thought of Retta and Rory with their heads together, discussing my case. “I bet you’ve seen all kinds of murderers in your career,” I said, “even wimpy ones.”
Rory nodded. “My grand-dad used to say, ‘Stuck in a corner, any dog’ll bite.’”
I rolled my eyes. “Homespun wisdom?”
He leaned down, resting his elbows on the window frame. “I did have another reason for the invitation. I wanted to see you again.”
Caught off guard, I tried for a careless grin. “La, Chief Neuencamp, you’ll turn a girl’s head with such talk!” Wishing him good day, I drove off, wondering if our new cop thought a little too much of himself. He was obviously romancing my sister. Was he looking to make it a family affair?
Chapter Thirty-five
Retta
When Barbara Ann called, there was traffic noise in the background. I hoped she was using hands free, but she didn’t give me time to ask. “Retta, I know you’ve been picking Faye’s brain about the Brown case, and I know you’ve done some sn—some work on your own. We need to put together everything we can, so I’d like—” I felt her reluctance drip through the airwaves. “I’d like you to come to the office and compare notes.”
I stirred my soup, homemade, not store-bought, savoring the smell of perfectly carmelized onion. “I thought the police were handling things now.”
“We both know Stan Wozniak will do everything he can to hurt Neil’s case.” She sighed deeply. “Pooling our information will maximize effectiveness for our client.”
My heart did a little flippity-flop at the words we and our. “You’re right. Could we meet at Joe’s instead of your office? They have a Mexican buffet on Thursdays.”
“Don’t do that.” Her tone was sharp.
“Do what?”
“Change things. You always do it.”
“I don’t--”
“Yes, you do. I ask you to come here; you suggest we go to Joe’s. I ask for a cantaloupe from the store; you bring a casaba, which is somehow better. Faye suggests a two-day shopping trip to Saginaw; you shift it to four days in Grand Rapids. Stop changing things. Do as I ask.”
It wasn’t fair, especially the part about the trip to Grand Rapids. I’d extended it so we could all see Jesus Christ Superstar, my favorite show, which I knew neither of them had seen. Faye said afterward she liked it a lot. Barbara Ann was a little grumpy about it, but how can you not love the music in that show, even if you aren’t a church-goer?
When Barbara gets on her high horse, I just back off. “All right. I’ll come to the office.” I’d get Faye to go to Joe’s with me afterward. “Faye seems pretty sure Mr. Brown is innocent.”
“Yes.” Barbara sounded unsure, which isn’t like her at all. “We haven’t got much the police will call evidence, though.”
“You don’t think Rory will be fair?”
Her tone of voice changed. “How exactly did you meet the new police chief?”
“By accident, really.”
“While you were working for the Smart Detective Agency, right?”
Despite my desire to be pleasant, I gave a little huff of exasperation. “Barbara Ann, I’m not trying to take over your business.
I don’t stick my nose in where I’m not wanted.” I heard a snort but went right on. “I know people in Allport, and you don’t. And the ones Faye knows—well, they aren’t going to get you the answers you need.”
When she replied she sounded like the old Barbara, patient with Baby Sister but not convinced. “Okay. Stop in as soon as you can.” I heard her draw a big breath and waited for the rest of it. “We’ll pay you for your time, and this in no way means you’re part of this agency. I understand you have contacts, but you’ll just be a consultant, paid for your time.”
I bit back a snippy response. “You don’t have to pay me.”
“We’ll accept your help on an hourly basis at our regular rate for subcontracted work.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.” I almost thanked her but caught myself in time. If we were going to be all business, I was offering expertise, so I didn’t need to grovel.
For Barbara Ann’s benefit I gushed over the office décor when I arrived as if I’d never seen it before. Faye seemed uncomfortable, and Barbara just looked at me like she does.
“I spoke with the mayor this morning,” I told them. “She’s all a-flutter because CNN is sending a team in, and she asked me what she should wear.” I chuckled. “No doubt she’s hoping to look slim and thirty-something--like that’s going to happen!” Faye smiled politely, but neither of them was interested in our mayor’s fashion faux pas.
Barbara led the way into her office and offered me a seat. Faye followed, taking what I assumed was her accustomed place on the right side of an oversized mahogany desk. I glanced around, since I hadn’t been allowed in here yet. Lovely, but cold, like the inhabitant. I made a mental note to buy some bright throw pillows for the pale green divan and maybe some silk flowers to soften the severe black stoneware pieces set around the room. As if she read my mind, Barbara frowned. She’d see how much they helped once they were there.
Barbara took me through everything: what I’d learned from Stanley, his employees, and K’s notes on the case. She stopped me several times to get details, and I have to admit she made me recall things I hadn’t paid much attention to at the time. Faye took notes.