by Jean Martino
“But what if Michael finds out who he’s really dealing with and decides to leave McLean’s and go out on his own?” said Roger.
“Then he and his wife can be evicted by you from that house can’t they? For God’s sake Roger, Michael ain’t going nowhere. He knows he’s onto a good thing. Give him a bigger bonus, out of that special trust account you set up for the consortium’s money transfers. Give him a bigger raise. Keep him motivated to not care where or what, but only how. And if he does get suspicious, then remind him he is in too deep now to back out and as long as he keeps his mouth shut and continues to do what he’s doing then he will be rewarded. For as long as he does that, he and his pretty little wife are safe. He knows that too. He’s not stupid and he is the only one we can trust in your firm to keep his mouth shut. The boy is hungry to make it. I’ve seen that look in his eyes. He’ll keep his mouth shut I promise you and I am sure we can trust him.”
“What about his wife? She’ll have to know too.”
“Don’t be stupid. She has to know nothing except what Michael tells her. All he has to tell her is he got a huge bonus and his salary is commensurate to buying a house in that price range. Get him totally sucked in and he’ll be so goddamn happy he won’t say a word to no one. We’ll even give him some phony real estate papers to sign with her and I can arrange for someone to pretend they’re the realtor and keep it all kosher.”
The red light was blinking on and off on the answering machine connected to his land line phone on his desk. His cell phone number he kept private with only a few, like McLean, knowing it. With all those investors continually wanting to talk to him he didn’t want his cell phone ringing every few minutes. He clicked on the answering machine and the tape rewound, then the first angry voice message played:
“Carl! Tony here! What the hell’s going on with the stock accounts? My bank called and said they’ve been getting electronic transfers of money from McLean’s Investments every fifteen minutes for the last 24 hours. Call me!”
“Hey Carl, this here’s Joe, what’s all this money being transferred to my bank account from Newport Beach for?”
“Carl. This is Jake! Why’re you selling my stock? Goddamn money is pouring back into my bank.”
After another ten calls, Carl could feel his chest tightening. What the hell was Michael doing? He picked up the phone, rubbing his chest to ease the pain as the receptionist at McLean’s Investments started her welcome.
“Good morning,” she said, quicker than usual. “McLean’s Investments. May I---”
“Let me speak to Michael Brampton!” said Carl, cutting her off. “Right now!”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said the receptionist, recognizing Denholm’s voice, her own voice reflecting the frazzling of her nerves after fielding dozens of calls from angry investors all day, “he is not in the office. He took a two week leave of absence a week ago and---”
“What! Where the hell is he?”
“I don’t know, sir,” she almost cried.
“Then put me through to Wainwright!” yelled Carl.
“He isn’t here either,” said the receptionist feeling suddenly faint.
“Where the hell is he then?”
“His...his ulcer burst,” she said, ready to burst into tears herself, “and they had to send an ambulance here to take him to Hoag Memorial hospital.”
Carl slammed down the phone and rushed to his bedroom to dress. Brampton gone for a week! Why the hell hadn’t he called and told him he was going off for two weeks, and who the fuck was selling the stock? Roger had better have a damn good explanation for all this, he decided. He would kill the bastard if he messed up those accounts, or someone else got control of them and lost him all that fucking money, not to mention what his associates would do to him. He grabbed the phone in the bedroom and dialed his own bank.
CHAPTER 13
As they reached the beach unit’s parking lot, Linda became very nervous and opened her eyes again sitting up straight, the pain in her head causing her to squint. “What do you think is on here?” she asked, holding the disc in her hand and staring at it. “Do you think it’s a message about where Michael and Cindy are?”
“Hard to say,” Scott said. “But I have a feeling it might have something to do with your investment account too. I think whoever that was we saw running from the parking lot this morning was someone who knew you were at McLean’s today trying to get some information on your account.”
Linda groaned aloud. “Then why didn’t he just tell us? Why all the mystery?”
“Perhaps he’s afraid of losing his job? Or perhaps he’s a friend of Michael’s and Michael confided in him that he had to get away, and perhaps Michael knew you would come looking for them and told him to try to help you somehow without anyone knowing.”
For several minutes Linda was quiet, digesting what Scott had just said. “So what you are thinking is that Michael is somehow involved in this “money laundering scheme” that the FBI are investigating?”
He swung the car into the carport, parking next to Cindy’s car, and turned off the ignition before turning to her. “Linda, I am not thinking that. But the evidence is pointing to a strong connection between Michael and whatever is going on in that company that the FBI is investigating.”
“What if it’s true?” she asked, her face tightening. “What will they do to him and Cindy if they are involved?”
Scott sighed. “You’re asking me to judge and sentence them without knowing the facts.”
“I’m not, I’m just asking what if.”
“OK. Do you think they could be involved in it somehow?”
She gulped quickly. “I hope not. I don’t know though. If they weren’t why did they disappear like that without a trace?”
“Perhaps they left to get away from it,” he said
“You mean they were on the run?”
“Again, I don’t have the answers. It could work both ways. But think about this for a minute. Let’s say Michael is very talented at what he does, trading on the stock market, and has a knack for making people rich. Let’s say he has proven his worth to the point that his employer, namely Roger McLean, has put him in charge of the accounts of some clients whose money is offshore and needs bringing back into the US and made legitimate, through profits. Let’s say that Michael found it challenging at the start without realizing what he was getting into and perhaps later, realizing he was involved in something illegitimate, he wanted to get out, but was enticed to continue by that millionaire’s house he was allowed to live in cost free probably, realizing he could put his own money aside and let it accumulate. And let’s say that Cindy knew nothing about where the house came from and somehow was convinced they were buying it until she started working on an assignment that crossed wires with Michael and his involvement.”
“So she accused him of her findings and told him he could end up in jail and it had to stop?”
He nodded. “And Michael, already too deep in the situation, didn’t know how to stop.”
“So they had to just disappear?”
He stopped talking, allowing her to make her own assumptions.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” she said. “The only way he could get out of the whole thing was to disappear, and take Cindy with him. And they couldn’t even let me or his parents know either in case they were found through us.”
“We still don’t know if he was aware of the FBI investigation but I doubt it. I think it was a case of simply getting free of some, as Cindy told Beth Ann, unscrupulous characters.”
“The mafia?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“We don’t know that,” he said. “It could be just some crime lords who are working alone.”
“Oh God!” she cried, starting to shiver, each word she spoke increasing her headache pain. “Their lives could be in danger. Scott, if they showed up, they could get killed.”
He put his arm around her shoulders. “Honey, you’re jumping the gun now. Let’s just take
one step at a time. Wherever they are, I’m sure they are safe.”
“Then we should stop trying to find them right now,” she said stubbornly, her face screwing up with the pain of her raging headache. “We are putting them in more danger by doing so.”
“I’m afraid it’s out of our hands now,” he said, rubbing the nape of her neck to try to ease her headache pain. “The FBI will have learned already that the house Michael and Cindy lived in belonged to Roger McLean and be investigating what the connection was between them. The only way out for Michael, if all the above is correct, is to turn himself in and co-operate with them. But until we know where Michael and Cindy are, we can’t help them.”
“Could Michael plead innocent?”
“Perhaps. If he could prove that he was not aware of where his clients’ funds came from or that he was involved in a money laundering scheme.”
He walked up the stairs with her and made sure she was safely inside.
“No one knows where we are living,” she said petulantly, objecting to having to hide all the time.
“I hope not,” he said. “But better to be safe than sorry. Take a couple of Tylenol and lay down for a while. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’m sure Dan will have a laptop we can use. And try to relax. You’ve been through enough for one day.” He kissed her lightly on the lips then left.
Gulping down two Tylenol tablets, Linda lay down on the bed for a while. But she couldn’t relax. Her eyes wouldn’t stay closed. Finally she got up and made a cup of tea and thought about what Scott had said in the car, longing to call her sister. It would be Saturday morning, 5 am in Australia right now, she thought, calculating the time difference. Even though Jessica was an early riser, Linda doubted she would be up this early. Jessica usually was up around 6 am, a whole hour away. She stared at the clock. The minutes ticked by slowly until she could stand it no longer. Jessica had told her to call no matter what time it was if she needed her and she sure needed her big sister right now. It was June 21 there, June 20 here. She should be used to the time change but it still felt a bit weird to her. But she couldn’t wait any longer to talk to Jessica. She needed to hear her voice, to tell her what all had happened, to hear Jessica’s calm voice assuring her everything was going to be alright.
She dialed Jessica’s number and felt relief flooding her when she heard Jessica’s cheerful voice answering. “I hope I didn’t wake you,” said Linda.
“Linda! No you didn’t wake me and even if you had it would have been alright because I’ve been unable to sleep thinking about you and praying something good would happen to end that nightmare over there. Is everything OK?”
“No,” said Linda. “Everything is going haywire over here. It just keeps getting more and more complicated.”
“Oh dear,” said Jessica. “Tell me what’s happening. Have you found out where Cindy and Michael are yet?”
“No,” Linda sighed. “But it appears something has gone wrong with my investment account now and I am being denied information on it.”
“Oh damn, Linda,” said Jessica. “What will you do?”
Linda explained what had happened that morning and how Scott had gone to find a laptop so they could look at the disc. “Jessica, I hope it’s a message about Cindy and Michael. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. My head is splitting right now. I just took two headache pills and hope they work soon because my head feels like it’s in a vice.”
“You should lay down for a while,” said Jessica.
“I did,” said Linda, her eyes catching on the disc lying on the coffee table. “But I can’t relax until I see what’s on that disc.”
“I know,” said Jessica, feeling for her sister. “But you have to try, Linda. You won’t be any help to anyone if you get sick. How are you for money right now? Do you need any?”
Linda laughed weakly as she kept rubbing the back of her neck. “Not at all. I still have plenty. Don’t worry, sis. I’m ok right now. It’s my future I’m concerned about if I lose that investment money at McLean’s.”
“How are things going between you and Scott?” Jessica asked.
“Oh he’s been so wonderful to me, sis. I can never repay him for all he’s done.”
“Is it getting serious between you two?”
Linda went quiet. She knew Jessica was alluding to her and Scott making their relationship permanent. But she couldn’t even think about that now. If she did she wouldn’t be able to think clearly on everything else. “At this point,” she said, “we aren’t thinking along those lines at all. We are just... well, close, very close.”
It sounded to Jessica like they were more than close but she decided not to push it. Linda had always kept her own counsel on private matters and when the time was right she would tell her. “Well, say hi to him for me and thank him for taking such good care of my sister,” she said.
“I will. And give Bill a big hug for me.”
“Will do,” Jessica said. “But Linda I hate leaving you like this. I wish I was there so I could be of more help. I checked your mailbox on AOL but still nothing from Cindy---”
“Oh I just remembered,” said Linda. “There is something I need you to do for me in my AOL internet account so I can gain access to my emails from here.”
“Sure, but remember, I’m not computer literate. My expertise stops at opening emails.”
“This is easy,” said Linda. “Grab a pencil and paper and write this down.”
“Ok. Talk slow though.”
When Linda had finished explaining what she wanted Jessica to do, she said, “Would appreciate it, sis, if you could do that as soon as possible.”
“Bill and I were planning to go over to your place after breakfast, but he just walked into the room. I’ll tell him what’s happened on the way down to your house. I hope I don’t screw it up.”
“You won’t,” said Linda. “Tell Bill I’ll talk later. Love you.”
After she hung up, Linda sat staring through the window at the ocean thinking about what Jessica had been hinting at. She was an old fashioned person who believed the man had to take the initiative in situations like her and Scott’s relationship. She still didn’t know what he was thinking either. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps he accepted that one day they would have to part and she would have to return to the other side of the world again.
Her own life had been broken into blocks it seemed. The first block was her first 21 years before she met Vito and her hunger to travel. She had been so young then it hadn’t bothered her that she had switched her home and life from one side of the world to the other.
Then the second block had been the years she had been married to Vito and had Cindy to raise, and then his death and how she had felt unsettled, knowing that Cindy being married to Michael had taken her away from her life to a point. She had put down roots in California during those years, but suddenly she had a desperate need to return to Australia and her sister and examine her earlier roots.
That third block had seen her struggling the first year with the differences in living styles between Australia and the U.S. She had not realized how Americanized she had become until then. But gradually she found a middle ground, where she could combine the two worlds she had previously lived in to make her feel comfortable in this new world, back where her original roots still were. Her life had come full circle, and despite missing Cindy desperately at times, she finally started to have a feeling of belonging again.
To have to pull up those roots again and move back to California, leaving her sister who she had become so close to on the other side of the world, caused her pain. Even if she and Scott did want to be together, he couldn’t move to Australia and neither would Cindy and Michael if they ever found them. She felt like she was in limbo right now. She would have to leave it to fate. To think too much about it could cause her more pain and confusion. She leaned back in the arm chair and closed her eyes.
When she woke she saw from the clock she had only slept for fifteen minut
es but her headache had gone. The Tylenol, or perhaps talking to Jessica again, seemed to have worked miracles. She felt suddenly hungry realizing she had not eaten lunch yet. Scott was still at Dan’s or perhaps he had gone to the Newport Beach police station after leaving Dan’s house to tell Detective Grant what had happened at McLean’s this morning, she decided, pulling herself out of the chair and stretching. She headed for the kitchen and then remembered they had used the last of the bread that morning and she had forgotten to get some on the way home.