Pool of Lies

by J. M. Zambrano

  He twisted the knob slowly and opened the door a crack. She lay on the bed, sobbing into the stack of down pillows. His first instinct was to go to her, but there was something in those soft wails—like her heart was being torn out. She seemed totally unaware of his presence, so private and all-consuming was her grief. Nate wavered in the doorway and then stepped back into the hall, closing the bedroom door quietly behind him.

  *****

  In the light of day, Nate had to think. Outside on the patio, the comfort of hazelnut-flavored coffee warming his chilled nerves, he had to put it all together somehow. Had Morgan really, truly been crying out of grief over Kevin? Not a chance. Deidre? Maybe. Tears of remorse? That was scary. Like the meperidine was scary.

  Why didn’t she even listen to his report? Did she already know the person named as Camacho’s next-of-kin? Was that why he was being kept out of the loop?

  All Morgan’s obscure references to Stan Eisley taking care of things. Why didn’t she just say she’d met with Stan and the detective? Why did she phrase it as if it were something in the future? At least he knew Sam hadn’t been there. He’d been in the office all day—but did Sam know about the meeting? What other things might Sam be privy to that he wasn’t? Didn’t Morgan know a husband couldn’t testify against his wife? Was that name on the Harris’s rent application just going to disappear along with JJ Camacho?

  And if the name didn’t disappear…and Morgan was somehow culpable along with Sam…who would be left to be Beth’s guardian? Somebody had to look out for all that money, if all her relatives were either dead or…incarcerated.

  Nate weighed alternatives. If there was no wrong-doing on Morgan’s part, then what was the harm of his bringing his discovery to the attention of the authorities, presuming he could find someone in authority not complicit in the cover-up? Morgan couldn’t fault him for looking out for her interests if she were guiltless.

  Of what might she be guilty? Kind of like poking a spider to see if it would run away or jump on you. Maybe best to leave it alone and tiptoe around it. But then he’d never know, would he? Unless he poked the spider.

  The house behind him was deathly quiet. He’d heard Beth when she had left for school, but not a peep from Morgan. He could see the drawn shades of her tiny window from where he sat. From the corner of his eye, he detected movement in the kitchen. The thought that his wife might be watching him sent a shiver down his spine.

  The kitchen door opened and Morgan came down the back steps toward him. She wore a pale blue negligee and her face bore traces of a sleepless night. Dark circled underscored her eyes coloring her sad and vulnerable.

  He got up and went toward her, suddenly ashamed of what he’d been thinking.

  “There is no financial data on these computers!” Veronica’s voice was beyond exasperated.

  Rae held the phone in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. It was 6:30 a.m. “Fortunately, I’m an early riser. You did not wake me, thank you very much.”

  “I knew that.” Veronica laughed nervously. “I’m so pissed. Garvin let us walk out of there without once hinting that we were taking the wrong computers. These are full of lease forms, tenant data, and the laptop belonging to Nathan Farris—no wonder his was the only protest we heard when we picked them up.”

  “A little illicit activity?” asked Rae.

  “My team now refers to him as ‘Nasty Nate.’ I probably know more about Mr. Farris than I wanted to. Nothing that concerns our case, though. What do you think they did with the financial records?”

  Rae thought a moment, took another gulp of coffee. “I think you may have taken the only computers and that the financial records are still in the office.”

  “Manual records? A company that size?”

  “It goes along with all the other outdated features. Bayfield isn’t really a big company, if you think about it. It’s the bucks that are big. Word is Jerome Bayfield was a real tightwad, set in his ways. He probably never entered the computer era.”

  Rae heard Veronica’s disgusted sigh. “Will you please come in and pick up these computers? Return them and get the books, in whatever form they happen to be?”

  “Aye, aye, Detective. Having a little egg on the face for breakfast?”

  “Scrambled.”

  “I’ll be there in about an hour. Any word from Sergeant Wehr?”

  Silence. Then: “An email.”

  “And?”

  “We’re going in for the tape this morning. She gave me its location.”

  “You weren’t going to tell me?”

  “Of course I was. When there was something to tell.”

  “What does that mean?” Rae was getting that uncomfortable, slithery feeling she sometimes had with Veronica. Like she never revealed the whole story. But why should she? Voice of reason. Voice of Grandma. Rae, you got a nosy streak.

  “How about Danny? Will he get to see it? It’s probably the last he’ll see of his wife…alive.”

  “Rae, it’s evidence in a homicide.”

  “Right. I’ll be in for the computers shortly.” Curtness slid into Rae’s voice like the slap of a riding crop.

  “I know you’re worried about Danny. He knows about the tape?”

  “I’ve kept him apprised.”

  “Once I’ve seen the tape, it probably won’t be a problem to let you both view it.”

  “Probably?”

  “I’ll leave the Bayfield computers at the front desk for you.”

  As Rae returned the phone to its cradle, she thought she detected a change in Veronica’s tone. Had she already viewed the tape? Could it be bad news for Danny? She considered calling Sandy and giving him a heads-up. But, no, she’d already signed on with Lakewood P.D. They owned her for now.

  Rae wore a new suit for her first day on the Lassiter assignment. Gray silk pin stripe. The coordinated shoes were killing her feet, and she’d only worn them an hour.

  Veronica was already in the field when Rae arrived at Lakewood P.D. A civilian clerk helped her load the computers after having her sign a receipt and giving Rae another to get signed at Bayfield Enterprises.

  The drive there took another fifteen minutes. Her feet no longer hurt. They were numb as she walked through the front door into the reception area.

  “Mrs. Esposito, what a surprise.”

  Sam Garvin seemed to be waiting for her.

  “Why is that? I phoned your office that I was on my way.” Rae nodded toward the receptionist, whom she was seeing for the first time.

  “Fredricka Halperin, our right-hand woman.” Sam gestured toward a flaming head of hair.

  Rae couldn’t get past the woman’s head. Likely well into her sixties, mouth like a prune painted bright as the hair.

  “Fredricka, this is Rachel Esposito. She’s going to be looking over our books.”

  Fredricka nodded curtly and turned away from Rae’s outstretched hand.

  Rae’s eyes burned from the sight. A hairdressers revenge? Nobody would choose such a color.

  “Your computers are in my car. Could someone help me carry them in?”

  She heard Fredricka mutter, “Don’t look at me.”

  “Nate will be here shortly. I’m sure he’ll be glad to help,” said Sam.

  “They shouldn’t be left in the car. The heat could destroy your data.”

  When Sam didn’t respond to this, Rae continued, “As for Mr. Farris’s laptop, I think it may already have crashed and burned.”

  Sam gave her a look she could only describe as sly. “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Please follow me.”

  As she followed Sam down the drab hallway to the same room he’d assigned her on her prior visit, Rae thought she saw the man’s shoulders shaking. Laughter? Did he know about Farris’s porn site visits? Perhaps her comment had not been lost on Sam.

  Rae had the feeling that Freddie—she’d better not slip and call her that—had been at her job a long time. If you’re new or insecure,
you sure don’t turn your back on a person your boss is introducing to you, even if they are looking at you like you’re some kind of freak.

  “Let me explain what I meant about being surprised.” Sam picked up the broken thread of his greeting. “My surprise was that you were to audit our records. When first we met, you were retained by Danny Lassiter.”

  Rae deposited her briefcase, cell phone, and laptop on the table, opened the case and took out some papers, a mechanical pencil and a calculator.

  “Notice of my resignation as accountant for Mrs. Lassiter’s estate went to Mrs. Bayfield-Farris.”

  “Yes, I know. I was just surprised when Fredricka told me we would be dealing with you again.”

  Rae fired a look at Sam and was stopped short by his pallid eyes.

  “You think I can’t be objective because of representing Danny?”

  “Not at all.” Sam spread bony fingers in a conciliatory gesture. “In spite of what’s gone on in the past, I think we’re all after the same thing.”

  A full ten seconds of silence pushed between them before Rae asked, “And that would be?”

  “Justice for Deidre and Kevin. Closure for the family members. If your work leads to that, I support it fully.”

  “I have a list of items I’d like to see.” Rae handed Sam a paper from her stack. “This is just a start and will probably grow as my work progresses.”

  Sam eyed the list. “It’ll take some time for the bank to return copies of the check endorsements.”

  “A pity they don’t return the actual checks anymore.”

  “You have our full cooperation.”

  Rae nodded and let the hint of a smile soften her expression as she asked, “The check to Kevin? Do you remember offhand how long it took to clear?”

  “It hasn’t…so far.”

  “Has payment been stopped?”

  Rae thought she noticed a slight twitch in Sam’s facial muscles, a trace of annoyance. Surely he knew that’s the first thing she’d be after.

  “I’m sure Fredricka has seen to that.”

  “She has signatory power?”

  Sam shook his head, annoyance clearly visible. “Mrs. Esposito, with all the recent tragedies that have hit the family, I may not have instant recall on every matter. Fredricka most likely prepared the stop order and gave it to me to sign. Feel free to ask her for anything you need.”

  “She didn’t seem overly pleased to meet me.”

  “Fredricka is loyal to a fault. She and I were both brought on board by Jerome.”

  “Jerome?”

  “Bayfield.”

  Rae arranged items on the table before her, opened up her laptop as Sam watched, showing no signs of leaving the room.

  “Before you leave,” Rae said, “I’d like to go over a few bases.”

  “Fire away.”

  “How many checking accounts are there and how do they interface? Who has signatory power?”

  Sam explained the structure of the accounts and added, “Nate, Morgan or I sign all the checks.”

  “Two signatures required?”

  “Not in all cases. Morgan can sign alone. Nate can only sign disbursements under five thousand without a co-signature.”

  “No cap on what you or Mrs. Farris can sign?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How about disposing of assets? Say you wanted to sell this building. Two signatures or one?”

  “Correct.” A smirk so fleeting that she almost missed it.

  Smart ass. Two if it’s Nate and one if it’s you or Morgan. “I think I get the picture.” So much for internal controls.

  “I think you do.” Sam’s thin upper lip twitched back in what might have passed for a smile had Rae not been convinced he was reading her thoughts.

  Not that she had a poker face. Never did have.

  The stack of ledgers on the table confirmed the suspicion she’d voiced earlier to Veronica. Bayfield Enterprises was a dinosaur waiting to have its bones assembled.

  “I’m sure you knew we’d assume your records were on computer.”

  “Not really. I thought your people would ask for the items on the court order, not charge in and grab.”

  “I’m sorry they acted in haste. I’ll try not to make that mistake. I presume those…” Rae’s gaze traveled back to the stack of ledgers.

  “They are.”

  “Why?” Rae put a tentative hand on the top of the stack, trying to think of a tactful way to word her question. Dinosaurs and handwritten books of account had been extinct for a long time.

  “Jerome’s only been gone a year. We have every intention of modernizing, but with all that’s happened, that priority has been overridden. You do get the picture?”

  Rae felt sweat creeping through her suit jacket. What was she doing in dry clean only again? Her eyes hurt and she hadn’t even cracked a book yet.

  “I think that’s all for now.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find everything very legible.”

  To her relief, Sam edged toward the door. “I’ll get Fredricka started on your list.”

  He exited leaving the door slightly ajar. Rae got up and closed it. She could suffocate for a while, and then have an excuse to open it if she heard anything interesting.

  It seemed like only seconds later when a sharp rap on the door preceded Fredricka’s entrance.

  Rae smiled an ice-breaker smile, noting the stack of papers Fredricka was carrying.

  “That was quick,” offered Rae as the woman deposited the stack on her table.

  “Sam anticipated most of what’s on your list.” At least Fredricka’s tone was neutral. Well, almost.

  “I really appreciate it.” Rae smiled again.

  Fredricka didn’t. “I came in early this morning and did most of this. Anything else’ll take longer what with answering the phones and all.”

  As the woman headed for the door, Rae noticed her shoes. She wore bright blue Crocs on very white feet. They looked comfortable. Rae had a momentary stab of envy.

  The hair flared again at her as Fredricka turned in the doorway. “Buzz me on four if you need anything else.”

  “I’ll need a copy of the stop-payment order on the check to Kevin.”

  “It’s there,” snapped Fredricka. “Sam figured you’d need it since the check never cleared.”

  “Thank you.” Rae felt a small twinge of disappointment. So far no inconsistencies she could hop on like a chicken on a grasshopper.

  First order of business, Rae found the most recent ledger for the operating account and perused the check register. She noted an entry for a disbursement to Kevin Cantrell dated April 25th in the amount of $100,000.00.

  Halfway through the documents, Rae heard men’s voices outside in the hall. Walls like paper. More of Jerome, the tightwad.

  As she focused on the door, it was thrown open by a man in an Italian silk suit who didn’t look like he belonged in this frugal setting. Delete frugal—cheap dump was more on point.

  “Mrs. Esposito,” he said, coming at her with outstretched hand. “I’m Nate Farris.”

  His hand was damp. Rae took it quickly, then restrained the urge to wipe her palm on her own silk-blend slacks.

  Sam stood behind the man, looking slightly off center. Rae was fast picking up on minute variations in Sam’s implacable countenance. Now, it was the movement of his dark brows almost imperceptibly toward each other. Sam was pissed at something and this Nate Farris was either unaware or didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  “I don’t think Mrs. Esposito is to be concerned with this matter.”

  But Nate was unstoppable. “In my opinion, this information deserves the widest possible distribution. I’d like Mrs. Esposito’s input, if you don’t mind.”

  “Fine.”

  Rae had the impression it was anything but fine.

  “I would like to know if your office has a copy of the Wheat Ridge police report on my sister-in-law’s abduction.”

  “You mean the extorti
on attempt? Alleged of course,” she quickly added.

  “Come on now. We all know what I’m talking about. Are you in possession of such a report?”

  Rae felt anger rising like steam. Don’t blow your cool, Rae, or you’re in for a very short contract—like one day.

  “I personally have no such report,” she managed to articulate. Pompous ass!

  “How about Lakewood P.D.? That’s who you work for, right?”

  “I’m not privy to information outside the scope of my assignment, Mr. Farris,” Rae ground out between clenched teeth. Puffed-up asshole. She had the feeling that he might pop if she stuck a pin in him.

  “I apologize for Nate’s…” Sam strove for an appropriate word and apparently didn’t find one he was comfortable with. “Nate has come across some information that would more appropriately go to the district attorney’s office.”

  “I’ve tried,” countered Nate a bit too vigorously. “They won’t talk to me. I’m getting the brush-off. Just like with Wheat Ridge. Only now I know why the cops won’t go after Camacho.”

  Oh, great, thought Rae. He’s found out JJ’s a snitch. A missing snitch. But he’s talking about a report, not a tape.

  “Did you contact Detective Sanchez at Lakewood?” she asked.

  “Uh, she wouldn’t take my call.”

  The hesitation, so brief, but so outside the pattern of this man’s head-on style, set off an alarm in Rae’s head. He was lying, but why?

  Then it computed without any deliberation on her part. Nate Farris had some information he wanted to make sure reached an authority figure. The information was probably so new that he hadn’t had time to offer it to anyone else.

  Rae did a quick change of direction. “I can make sure your information gets to Detective Sanchez.”

  Nate reached inside his coat, took out a paper and thrust it at her.

  “What’s this?”

  “It proves JJ Camacho’s connection to someone at Wheat Ridge P.D.”

  What else was new? Hopefully, this blockhead wouldn’t mess up Veronica’s work.

  “I’ll see that this gets to the proper authorities. I’ll personally hand it to Detective Sanchez.”