Tony breathed easier, but she’d said nothing to satisfy Uncle Sol. “Spare us the sappy act, lady,” he said. “I don’t give a tinker’s damn how sorry you are.” He held out a beefy hand palm-side up. “Just fork over the dough. All of it.”
Mildred’s eyes darted to the store room where they kept the safe. No, Tony thought, alarmed again. Not the safe, woman. Not the safe. Everything depended on keeping the money stashed there. He had to turn it over to Clarice on Sunday or he was out of the game for good. Surely Mildred realized that. Tony warned her with a slight shake of his head. Don’t, his eyes pleaded as he held his breath again.
Mildred said, “What makes you think I still have any of the money?”
Tony exhaled slowly and suppressed a nervous grin. That’s the way, old girl. Millie got what the situation called for and delivered.
Uncle Sol stood up faster than Tony thought possible for such a bulky ox. “Listen, sister,” he growled, “maybe I didn’t make my meaning clear. I want my money. And I want it NOW.”
Mildred tried again. “But I don’t have it, sir. I spent every last dime.”
Tony couldn’t have been more pleased with her performance. She was quite the little actress. Uncle Sol was so angry his jowls began to shake like Jell-O. “Don’t give me any of that malarkey,” he said. “Lover boy over there blamed the theft on you, but I know the two of you are in this scheme together.” He grabbed some papers off her desk and continued his tirade. “Before Nick got himself killed, he told me Tony was itching to buy some hot property. I figure that so-called missing twenty-five thousand would be enough to buy something mighty fine.” He waved the papers he clutched in Tony’s face. “And these here papers prove you’ve got a nice little shell game going.” With a bitter laugh he said, “Destiny Group, my ass!”
Tony was speechless, astounded that his uncle knew anything about Destiny. He was no dummy when it came to business and even had a few shady deals going himself, but Tony had never thought he’d be able to uncover the Destiny Group’s activities. The paper work he waved around wasn’t exactly easy to follow. Clarice had seen to that.
“I know you don’t run a scam like this without help,” Uncle Sol continued. “I figure there’s gotta be more cheaters in on this than just you and your secretary.”
Tony and Mildred exchanged looks but said nothing.
Uncle Sol sneered. “Don’t worry, that part don’t concern me none. So, let’s cut to the chase. The only thing we need to discuss now is my share.”
“Uh,” Tony stammered, “your share?”
“Time to divvy up the proceeds, boy. The scam is over. You used my business to put yourself in business and now I aim to collect what’s owed me. We can start with the money you cheated me out of. Think of that as a business loan that you’re repaying.”
Tony glanced toward the store room. The money inside the safe was all he had left. That had to go to Clarice, no matter what. Once again, his dream was slipping out of his grasp. He could imagine all too well what would happen when Uncle Sol forced him to open the safe. He would push Tony and Mildred aside and stick both greedy fists inside and scoop up the stacks of twenty dollar bills as fast as he could. He’d yell for Tony to get him a big bag to carry it all.
Uncle Sol caught him looking at the store room. “Don’t bother with the safe. I already checked. It’s empty.”
The safe is empty? He whirled to face Mildred. She was supposed to be play-acting. Had she betrayed him for real? “What . . . what have you done?”
Mildred seemed quite pleased with herself. “Given her past, I knew Clarice would eventually double-cross you, Tony.” She sighed. “And double-crossing you meant I’d be left flat broke. I’m not a young woman who can start all over again. I had to take some precautions to protect my interests. I invested the twenty-five thousand in my own little dream. I’m set for life now.”
Tony had to believe that Mildred was still play-acting. She must have moved the money when she learned about Clarice from those old Portland newspapers. She probably figured it would be safer stuffed under her mattress. There was no way she’d ever betray him like Clarice had. Not after she’d come up with the plan to use the money in the safe to pay off Clarice. Tony decided to play along and make the act look more convincing. Tony took a step toward her, outrage plastered on his face. “Why, you two-timing hussy. I trusted you!”
Uncle Sol grabbed Tony’s arm. “Don’t feel so good does it, boy?”
Tony shook himself loose from his uncle’s grasp. He was buying both their acts. “I’ll kill you!” he shouted at Mildred.
Uncle Sol scowled. “Like you killed Nick?”
Tony stared at him open-mouthed. “What?”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the blood on the ledgers or the mop in the store room. No old Injun murdered Nick.” He pointed a finger at Tony. “You did!”
Tony squeaked out a denial. “You’re wrong.”
“Maybe so, but I’m not the only one who thinks you’re guilty of murder—and apparently, a sin he thinks is a whole lot worse.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” It was the first truthful thing Tony had said yet.
Uncle Sol shrugged. “Well, you better figure it out soon, boy. I’m gonna let you off the hook for sharing any of your other ill-gotten gains with me. All I want is the money you stole from me.” He paused to light his cigar. “But hear this: you got a lot more to worry about than me.” Using his fingers to form an imaginary pistol, he aimed it at Tony and grinned. “There’s one hell of a ticked off FBI man out there gunning for you.”
Chapter Forty
Jess Harmon looked up from the paperwork on the bank’s conference table that he’d been studying and frowned at Sam. “What are you doing here?” he snarled. Sam’s bureau chief had taken the news that his undercover role had been compromised without censure but Harmon hadn’t been so understanding. He’d claimed that Sam’s ability to help him with the Chambers murder investigation had been irreparably damaged. He’d told Sam to stick to dealing with the Indians and he’d solve the case without his assistance. It was a radical turnaround from the amiable but insistent way he’d encouraged Sam’s participation early on. The tension between the two men had become so strained that Sam found himself avoiding his former partner unless necessary. Today was necessary.
“I’m here to follow the money,” Sam answered.
Harmon gestured to the stacks of files in front of him. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question sarcastically delivered. “I thought I made it clear the last time we talked. I’ll handle the Chambers case. You have plenty to do without interrupting my work.” He adjusted his glasses, opened a file and began to read.
Sam was in no mood to be dismissed. “Listen, Jess, you can drop the aggrieved partner act. You know I never wanted to work on the Chambers case but I agreed to team up partly because of a guilty conscience and partly because I wanted to prove myself worthy of your respect. I was relieved that you didn’t seem to harbor any ill feelings toward me, despite what my mistakes have caused you. Aside from all that, Pete Chambers was a decent and honorable man who didn’t deserve to die the way he did. It’s because of Pete that I’m at the bank now. I’ve just learned some information that may be related to the financials you’re examining.”
Harmon peered at Sam over the top of his glasses. He sounded as skeptical as he looked. “Yeah? And what’s that?”
“Tony Rossi is a realtor in town who is involved in a complex real estate scam known as the Destiny Group.” Sam decided not to reveal that Rossi was also a rapist and more than likely involved in the murder of his own cousin. As far as Sam was concerned, Tony Rossi’s fate was sealed. He would see to that
himself.
“Rossi’s a top-notch salesman,” Sam continued, “but not smart enough to put a complex scam together without some help. And I believe he got the help he needed right here at the bank.”
“Okay, you have my attention,” said Harmon. “But I don’t see how a real estate scam is related to Pete Chambers’ murder.”
“I have a hunch it’s connected.
Harmon tossed his glasses on top of the file. “Jesus, you barged in here based on a hunch? I need evidence, not hunches.”
Sam raised his hand palm side out. “Just hear me out a minute. When I got my bank loan to buy our house, the appraisal was handled by a woman named Clarice Nestor who is supposedly Tony’s mistress. Unlike Tony, she has some smarts—enough to put together a profitable plan like the Destiny Group. The appraisal went through without a hitch, but afterward she contacted me about an investment opportunity that her husband managed.
“Her husband being Warren Nestor, the bank’s manager?”
Sam nodded. “I never had any extra funds to invest after buying the house so I never spoke to the man.”
“And you won’t—at least about any investment to make. He has resigned his position and I’m told he’s starting his own business.”
“Very interesting,” Sam said. I never paid much attention to the name of the investment his wife pitched at the time, but—”
“Let me guess,” Harmon said. “The Destiny Group?”
“Exactly.”
“I think I know where you’re going with this. I’ve been reviewing Chambers’ financial records and I’ve discovered something odd. He’d been making some significant money in an investment portfolio managed by Warren Nestor for the past two years. Then about two weeks before his murder, the account balance had inexplicitly dropped to practically nothing—with no record of any withdrawals by Chambers or any other documentation to explain the loss. That may be the source of the change in his behavior that you and everyone else had noticed.”
“Makes sense,” agreed Sam. “When he found out that the investment he’d been relying on to fund his retirement was suddenly no longer available, he would’ve been undeniably upset.”
“So, he confronts Nestor and demands his money back or threatens to expose the fraudulent investment and—”
“Gets killed for his trouble,” Sam finished.
“That might explain Warren Nestor’s sudden departure from the bank, but it doesn’t prove he killed Chambers.”
“It’s just speculation at this point, but if Chambers had accused him of theft or fraud, Nestor would’ve had motive to shut him up.”
“I guess I have some more digging to do,” said Harmon. With a forced smile he added, “Want to stick around and give me a hand with the shovel?”
Sam supposed Harmon meant the offer as an apology of sorts but he was too late. “Sorry,” Sam said, “I have some urgent digging of my own to do.”
Chapter Forty-One
Mildred plopped down on the barstool next to Tony’s and said, “We gotta stop meeting like this, boss.”
Tony shifted on the stool so that his back was toward her. He’d been laying low ever since he’d learned that Sam Matthews was looking for him. Although Uncle Sol hadn’t mentioned him by name, it only made sense that Matthews was who he meant. Tony didn’t want to see anyone right now, least of all a ticked off FBI agent with a gun. But he was tired of playing hide and seek and took a chance on getting a couple of beers at Dizzy’s. Running into Mildred was almost as bad as facing Matthews. “Get lost,” he growled.
“You still mad at me?”
“What gave you that idea?” How the woman could even think he’d forgive her for selling him out was beyond him. “You’re no better than Clarice.”
“I take it you’re referring to the cash in the safe.”
He didn’t want to see her, let alone talk to her, but she’d egged him on. He whirled around to face her. “You mean the cash not in the safe.”
“Oh, that.”
What he’d thought was only an act turned out to be true. Mildred had helped herself to his money. But she hadn’t spent it all like she claimed. She finally came clean and coughed up the twenty-five thousand when Uncle Sol refused to leave without it. Now she had nothing to show for her cheating ways, just like Tony. He signaled for another round and drained the glass dry as soon as Freddie had placed it in front of him. “Hit me again,” he said when Mildred ordered coffee.
After Freddie left to fetch their drinks, Mildred asked, “Have you heard the latest news?”
Tony gave her a disgusted look. “How could I hear anything? Been living underground like a goddamn mole for two days now.”
“You really think the FBI is after you? I thought Uncle Sol was just trying to scare you.”
Mildred had no idea about his little fling with Ellie—and he wasn’t about to enlighten her. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said. Uncle Sol would say anything to get his money but I’m not taking any chances when it comes to the FBI.”
“I bet Uncle Sol just got the name wrong. The FBI was really after Warren Nestor.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“That’s the news I’ve been trying to tell you. The FBI has arrested Warren.”
“Ha! What’d the wimp do? Jaywalk across Front Street?”
Freddie arrived with their drinks and Mildred waited until he’d left to continue.
“Turns out Warren wasn’t as clueless as we thought. He and Clarice have been running another scam right under our noses. Only it wasn’t so little. I’ve heard they made off with a bundle in some phony investment program that Warren ran. The word on the street is that Warren killed that foreman who worked out at the dam. Apparently, he was one of the investors who got taken to the cleaners. When he threatened to expose the scam, Warren got rid of him.”
“Jesus,” Tony said, shaking his head. “I didn’t think Warren had enough guts to kill a spider. What about Clarice? How come she didn’t get arrested? She’s the killer in that family.”
“As far as I know, she’s still walking around a free woman. You know how clever she is. I can’t imagine she’d leave anything behind to incriminate her.”
Another more horrifying thought suddenly occurred to Tony. “Can the Feds link Warren’s scam to the Destiny Group?”
“Don’t worry about that, boss. After Uncle Sol’s little visit, I got rid of everything to do with the Destiny Group that could be traced back to us.”
“But . . . but the ledgers . . .”
“Uncle Sol didn’t care about them after he got his money. They’re nothing but ashes now.”
Tony breathed a sigh of relief and gulped down his drink.
“Aren’t you going to thank me?” she asked.
He ignored her and concentrated on downing his beer.
Finally, she asked, “What are you planning to do, drink yourself into oblivion?”
“Might as well, I don’t have nowhere else to go, thanks to you.”
“Aw, boss, that’s just not true.”
“How could you do it, Mildred? How could you turn on me after all I’ve done for you?”
“I got Uncle Sol off your back. That ought to count for something.”
“Oh, sure. He’s fat, dumb and happy, now that you paid him off.” He slammed his empty glass on the counter. “With the goddamn money that was supposed to go to Clarice!”
Freddie was in front of Tony in a flash and picked up the glass he’d slammed. “Hey, man, ease up. You want a refill; all you have to do is ask.”
Tony waved him away a
nd leaned in close to Mildred. “You knew I was counting on that dough to keep the deal alive.”
“The deal is still alive.”
Tony stared at her. He had no idea what she’d been drinking but it wasn’t coffee. “Are you out of your mind? Warren’s arrest doesn’t change the fact that Clarice is still in the game and expecting twenty-five thousand in cold hard cash. And, as you well know, I ain’t got jack shit now.”
Mildred opened her purse and took out a small account booklet. “Not exactly true.” She placed it on the counter in front of Tony. “Take a look at this.”
“What is it?” Tony asked, without picking it up.
“A record of my saving account deposits. Note the balance. It’s more than enough to pay off Clarice and then some.”
Curiosity got the better of Tony and he picked up the booklet. He studied the account a moment and then blurted, “Jesus H. Christ! There’s a fortune here. How in the hell did you pull this off?”
Mildred shifted on the barstool. “Well, it’s like I told Uncle Sol: I had to protect my interests since I didn’t trust Clarice any more than I’d trust a junkyard dog not to bite. I’ve been siphoning off the top of every Destiny Group sale since the very beginning.”
Tony shook his head. What a fool he’d been. He’d be outraged if he didn’t feel so stupid. Two of the slickest con women around and he had to hook up with both of them. “And now you’re set for life, is that it?” He tossed the booklet at her. “What’re you trying to do, make me feel even worse?”
“No,” Mildred said, “I’m trying to make you feel better.” She signaled for Freddie and told him to refill her coffee. “Bring a cup for Tony, too. And keep the java coming, Freddie. Tony and I have some plans to discuss.” She hoisted herself off the barstool and motioned for Tony to follow her to one of the corner tables. “You’re going to like what I propose to do with the dough.”
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