Ring of Lies

by Howard, Victoria

  ‘Anything from the airport security cameras?’

  ‘I’ve got a team reviewing the tapes, but it will take time. We’re also trying to track down the flight attendants. One of them might remember Elliott and the woman, and be able to give us a decent description of her.’

  Jack looked at Grace. Fully awake now, she stretched and yawned. He stood and carried his cell phone over to the window.

  ‘How did they pay for the tickets?’

  ‘Elliott always paid cash.’

  ‘Smart. Obviously didn’t want any record on his credit card or bank statements in case Grace saw them.’

  ‘Yeah, that was my thinking too. The woman used a credit card in the same name as her passport. We’re checking to see if it was stolen or a counterfeit.’

  Grace threw back the covers, and walked naked to the bathroom. Jack waited until he heard the taps running then asked, ‘Any news from the British police on the second autopsy?’

  ‘It’s underway. The DNA results should be available within the next twenty-four hours. We’ll run them through CODIS - the Combined DNA Index System, although there’s no guarantee we’ll come up with a positive ID.’

  ‘What about his car?’

  ‘Diego’s been through the accident report. There was no sign of any mechanical failure. The tyres were fully inflated, so the idea that someone tampered with them doesn’t fly. Likewise, the brakes—there’s no sign they were interfered with. It’s just as Grace said. Elliott lost control and slammed into a wall. The car burst into flames on impact. If it hadn’t been for another driver dragging Elliott’s body clear of the wreckage, he would have been burnt to a crisp.’

  Jack frowned. Every break they got turned up more questions than answers. ‘Does the autopsy say anything about toxicology screening?’

  ‘There’s no mention of it in the report. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Call it a hunch.’

  ‘You think Elliott was drugged?’

  ‘According to Grace, he was a careful driver. The road conditions were good at the time and you’ve just said there’s no evidence to support the theory another car was involved or his car was tampered with. Something caused him to lose control.’

  ‘I don’t know, Jack. He could have had a momentary lapse of concentration. Besides, the body’s been embalmed, so a blood test is impossible, but I guess a hair sample might tell us something.’

  The bathroom door opened, Grace emerged in her underwear, her hair damp from the shower. Jack watched her pull on her jeans and a clean sleeveless shirt, then stand in front of the mirror to comb her hair.

  ‘What…did you say, Mike,’ he said into the phone.

  ‘The computer lab techs got Elliott’s MacBook working, and there’s still no identity on the shooter from last night. We’ve run the plates on the pickup he drove. The owner reported it stolen from outside a Target store in North Miami Beach late yesterday afternoon.’

  Jack stifled a yawn. ‘Right now, I’m more concerned about how he found us, than who he was.’

  Mike didn’t take one second to get to the bottom line. ‘You still think there’s a leak within the Bureau?’

  ‘It’s the only explanation.’

  Mike’s voice was tight with strain. ‘All right, Jack. From now on, you check in with me or Diego, every four hours. You miss a call, and I’ll have the local SWAT team on your doorstep before you can blink.’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘One more thing—does the name Joaquin Vicente Alzua mean anything?’

  ‘Never heard of him.’

  ‘His name crops up regularly on Zachary Parous’ appointment calendar, but as yet, we’ve no idea why. If anything else breaks, I’ll be in touch.’

  Jack broke the connection and turned round. Grace sat on the bed watching him.

  ‘That was Mike. They’ve started the second autopsy.’

  ‘So I gathered.’

  ‘He’ll call as soon as he hears anything,’ Jack said, and got dressed.

  Grace followed him downstairs to the kitchen. She filled the coffee maker and waited for it to brew. ‘So where does that leave us?’

  ‘Hip-deep in shit.’

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

  ‘How about we order some food and go over what we know so far?’

  ‘I don’t see what good it will do, but if you think it will help, why not.’

  ‘A morning hug and a kiss help me think,’ Jack said, making a grab for her, and nuzzling her neck.

  Grace tried not to grin but couldn’t help it. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, Agent West, it’s ten after five, almost time for dinner.’

  ‘So?’

  She stepped back. ‘Morning usually starts with the sun rising, not setting.’

  ‘Yeah, but kissing, that’s good at any time.’ He ran a fingertip down her cheek and tilted her head. His other hand slid round her hips, pulling her close. His kiss was heat and fire. When he lifted his mouth from hers, they were both breathing hard.

  Grace blew out a breath and looked at him from under her lashes. ‘Is that one of the skills the Bureau teaches its agents, because I’d hate to think you used the technique to get your suspects to confess?’

  Jack’s laughter was low, throaty. ‘That’s one I acquired all by myself.’ He watched Grace run her tongue over her lips, tasting his kiss. His libido kicked. He closed his eyes and ignored the blood pumping in his groin. When he opened them again, the agent was back in charge.

  ‘You think the coffee is done yet?’ he asked.

  ‘Pot’s probably boiled dry by now. I’ll make some fresh while you order a pizza. I think I saw a number for a delivery service pinned to the cork board by the refrigerator.’

  Jack picked up the phone and punched in the first three digits, then hung up. Hunched over, he studied the assortment of business cards and telephone numbers pinned to the board. One in particular caught his attention. He took it down and tucked it into his pocket.

  ‘You want anything special on yours?’ he called over his shoulder, as he placed the call.

  ‘Tuna and anchovies. No salami.’

  ‘The guy said twenty minutes.’ He took a sip from the steaming mug Grace had placed on the table in front of him. The coffee was rich and dark, just how he liked it. He pulled a yellow legal pad and pen toward him, along with the photocopied bank statements and notebook.

  ‘Tell me more about Elliott’s business partner.’

  ‘I’ve told you as much as I know already.’

  ‘Tell me again. How did they meet? What’s his speciality?’

  Grace wanted to bang her head on the table, and tell him it was futile. Instead, she pulled out the chair opposite his and sat down.

  ‘Shaun’s surname is Dixon. He and Daniel spent a year working for the same firm, before setting up the partnership. They’ve been in business together for nine years. Shaun deals with personal taxation, UK investments, and company audits.’

  Jack started doodling and making notes on the pad. He reached for his mug, draining the contents.

  ‘What about other members of the firm.’

  ‘There are two junior accountants and an auditor. But I’ve only ever met Liz Shelton, Daniel’s secretary. She joined the firm about eighteen months ago, straight from college.’

  ‘Could she be Daniel’s mistress?’

  Grace was silent for a few moments before she finally shook her head and said, ‘No.’

  ‘You sure about that?’

  ‘Liz is a sweet girl. She lives at home with her elderly, disabled mother. There’s no way she would leave her mother on her own and accompany Daniel on a business trip.’

  ‘Okay, strike her from the list of suspects. That leaves Daniel’s clients. Did any of them ever call him at home?’

  ‘Not that I recall, although…now that I think about it, there was one guy who called a few times.’

  Jack looked up from his notes. ‘Can you remember his name?’

  She sighed,
and rubbed her temple. ‘John… John Vance… Vickers… Vines… I’m sorry I can’t remember his surname. He came to the house once, too. But he should be on the list of clients.’

  Jack ran his finger down the list. ‘Nope, there’s no one with a name like that. Do you know which company he worked for?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  Jack walked to the counter and re-filled his mug, and carried it back to the table. The doorbell rang, as he was about to sit down.

  ‘That’ll be dinner. Wait here.’ He opened the door with one hand and paid for the pizza, then kicked the door shut with his foot.

  ‘Tuck in’, he said, and placed the box on the table, helping himself to a slice in the process. While he chewed, he read through the notes he’d made.

  ‘There’s always a pattern to any crime, especially a money laundering scam, but I just don’t see it here.’

  Grace spun the pad around, and read through his notes before flipping to a new page. ‘If the electronic files were so important, why didn’t Daniel just hand them over?’

  ‘Because they were his insurance, as long as he had them in his possession, he was safe.’

  ‘So you think someone stole them.’

  ‘Despite what the accident report and initial autopsy say, I don’t believe Elliott’s death was an accident. So either he gave them to someone for safekeeping or whoever killed him has them. It would also explain why his attorney was murdered.’

  ‘You think Daniel gave them to Mr. Parous?’ Grace asked.

  Jack reached for another piece of pizza. ‘There was no sign of a break-in at the attorney’s office or home. If Parous had them, he must have handed them over to his killer.’

  Grace drew a question mark between each name on the page. ‘There’s another possibility—Daniel could have given them to his mistress.’

  He hesitated, not wanting to cause her any distress. But there was no polite way to ask, other than come straight out with the question.

  ‘When did Daniel make his will?’

  ‘Shortly after he purchased this house, why?’

  ‘If he didn’t want you to know of its existence, why include it in his will? It doesn’t make sense, unless—’

  ‘Unless what?’

  A muscle quivered at Jack’s jaw. ‘Unless he planned to change it at a later date.’

  ‘You think Daniel was going to divorce me?’

  ‘It would be one way of preventing you from inheriting his property. The other would be to kill you.’

  Shock siphoned the blood from her face. ‘Don’t be absurd. Daniel wouldn’t stoop to murder.’

  ‘With you out of the way, legally or otherwise, he could leave his property to anyone he liked. And if my hunch is right, and Daniel was murdered by someone else involved in the scam, it would also explain why someone tried to kill us yesterday.’

  Grace shuddered deep inside. Somehow the suggestion made Daniel sound like a hardened criminal, not the man she had married.

  ‘What if the man who threatened me at the funeral also owns the island Daniel visited, the one Pete Jacobs told us about? He wanted the electronic files. Why not assume the money was his? He could have followed me here.’

  ‘That’s a lot of ‘if’s.’ There’s only one way to find out if you’re right.’

  Grace ignored the chill running down her spine. She sipped her coffee and waited. When he didn’t say anything she asked, ‘Are you suggesting we visit the island?’

  Jack swore under his breath. ‘Your ass is already in the firing line. Going there—’

  ‘Would be suicidal?’

  ‘I was going to say too dangerous.’

  She shrugged. ‘Well, I can’t be in any more danger than I already am. When do we leave?’

  ‘Even if Mike agreed, I wouldn’t let you do it.’

  ‘But—’

  Jack jumped to his feet, and strode round to round to Grace’s side of the table, pulled her chair back with a jerk.

  ‘Damn it, Grace. It’s a job for a SWAT team, not an innocent civilian. Do you have any idea what I went through last night, knowing that I might not be able to protect you, prevent you from being killed?’

  Her breath lodged in her throat at the fear and passion reflected in his eyes. She didn’t move.

  His fingers slid into her thick auburn hair. He leaned in until their foreheads touched.

  ‘I love you, Grace. I think I always have. But you have to trust my judgement on this.’

  Before she could form an answer, his lips brushed hers. Her own mouth responded, and a familiar shiver of wanting stirred deep inside her body. She lifted her head and saw the heart-rendering tenderness of his gaze and said, ‘But—’

  ‘No argument. That idea gets listed under ‘last resort.’ Agreed?’

  She put a hand to his cheek and let her fingers rest there for a moment. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Anyway,’ he said taking his seat again and grabbing another slice of pizza, ‘that just leaves the notebook.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that. What if it’s not written in code?’

  Jack frowned. ‘How’d you mean?’

  ‘We never compared the entries in the notebook, to the dates of the deposits on the bank statements. It might explain where each deposit originated.’

  ‘You think it could be that simple?’

  ‘What’s that saying about hiding things in plain sight?’

  Jack rubbed his beard. ‘You have a point. I’ll mention it to Mike when I call him. And find out if the tech guys have come up with any suggestions.’

  Grace twisted the platinum band on the third finger of her left hand. It meant nothing to her now. She pulled it off, along with the matching diamond engagement ring, and slipped both rings into her pocket. When she returned home, she’d sell them and give the money to Cancer Research or some other charity. She stood, and picked up the empty pizza box and dropped it into the trash, then helped herself to the last of the coffee before taking her place at the table once more.

  ‘Something else has been bothering me.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Jack.

  ‘Mr. Cody said that all bank customers are issued with an ATM card, yet there was no such card in Daniel’s wallet when it was returned to me by the police.’

  ‘What about his British bank and credit cards? Were they missing too?’

  ‘No, and what’s more, his wallet contained a considerable amount of cash.’

  ‘How much are we talking about?’

  ‘Three hundred and fifty pounds.’

  Jack looked up, his face grim. ‘That’s a lot of cash to carry around. Someone close to Elliott had to know he was skimming cash from the money laundering scheme. When he refused to hand some of it over, they killed him, then stole the ATM card.’

  ‘It’s certainly a possibility.’

  ‘Check the bank statements. Were any withdrawals made after Daniel’s death?’

  Grace shuffled through the statements until she found the one for November. She ran a finger down the page ‘It only goes up to the fifteenth of the month. I wonder—’ She pushed back her chair and ran upstairs only to return a few minutes later with an envelope. ‘I didn’t get chance to look at this yesterday.’

  She quickly tore it open and tipped out the contents. ‘Check book, ATM card, and yes, there’s another statement covering the account up to the date it was transferred into my name.’

  Jack reached for it. She pushed his hand away.

  ‘There have been eleven withdrawals since Daniel’s death on the seventeenth, each for small amounts—twenty-five dollars or less. The last one was four days ago.’

  ‘Here’ let me see that.’ He took the statement and began reading. ‘You don’t need a pin number for such a small sum. Just walk up to the cash register, swipe it through the machine and get a receipt. A person could survive on small purchases such as those for quite some time and it’s one way of determining whether the account is still active.’

  ‘The
n whoever has the card is in for a surprise.’