“And that’s where Millicent comes in.”
“Exactly. He hires her. He makes a big deal about how much he hates her. She makes a play for Masterson. Jepsen gets fired but Millicent’s still there to do the dirty work.”
“So why file the lawsuit? It invites scrutiny.” Connor moved his hands from my shoulders to my upper back, kneading gently.
“Smoke and mirrors. He went through lawyers like socks. He made a lot of noise, but very little was actually accomplished. He distances himself from Masterson, so when the brown stuff hits the fan . . .”
“He’s well away. Frankly, babe, he didn’t strike me as that smart.”
I agreed. “Which brings me back to the original point. I think Millicent was the brains of this particular operation. You’re right. Jepsen’s as dumb as a bag of rocks. Could you go a little lower?” I sighed, arching my back to give him better access. “So, what was I saying? Oh, yeah. Jepsen’s no computer genius. I think it would take some technical skill to pull this thing off. I also think that’s how Mitchell Burke ended up at the bottom of that ravine.”
“You lost me.” His voice was a whisper against my neck.
“What did Jepsen do when Millicent died? Walk away?”
“No. For some reason, he stayed in Seattle. He set up shop and continued to chase the scheme.”
“Yeah. But without Millicent, Jepsen couldn’t finish the job. Burke figured out about the embezzlement, all right, but he didn’t know Jepsen was still in the game. If he had, he never would have told everything to Jepsen. Do you think we’ll be like them?” I leaned my head back against him, and his arms went around me.
“Jepsen and Burke? You think you’ll have to eliminate me because of what I know?” He kissed the top of my head.
I opened my eyes, turned my head, and peered up at him with a mock scowl. “Maybe.” I put my feet up on the couch and lay back against him. “I was actually thinking about Emma and Mitchell Burke. Married for thirty years. Still happy about it.”
“Absolutely.” He kissed my ear.
A chill went through me. They’d been happy. Until one of them didn’t come back. I jumped up, startling Connor. “You know, that ice cream is calling my name. You want some?”
“What just happened?”
“Ice-cream withdrawal. Chocolate sauce?” I asked over my shoulder as I went into the kitchen.
“Sara?”
I dug in the refrigerator, pulling out a can from the back before turning to him with my brightest smile. “I wasn’t even lying about the whipped cream.”
He looked at me for a long moment, his expression serious. “Okay. I’ll get the bowls.” He went to the cupboard and took out two bowls. I scooped up large helpings and he added toppings. We took our bowls and sat at the kitchen table.
I took a bite of ice cream, letting it melt on my tongue, savoring the sweetness of chocolate as it washed the bitterness of my earlier thoughts away.
“So do you think Flash’s trust fund is the pension money?” He asked, stirring vigorously at his ice cream, melting it into soft-serve.
“You’re ruining that. Philistine.” I shook my head, taking another bite. “I hadn’t thought of that, but it makes sense. That’s another loose end. The newspaper article. The trust. The contingent beneficiary. I don’t even know how to track it down. No bank is going to admit that they have the account. Lots of people have made a killing with stock options and things. The trust money could have come from there. Besides, there’s a lot more missing than just what’s in the trust. We’re close and we’re not, you know?”
“We’re close. Odds are, we’ll never know everything.” He emphasized the pronoun, his eyes twinkling. He’d caught me. I’d used the word we. Somehow it seemed sort of natural. It wasn’t even this easy with Russ. With Connor it was like having a partner. I decided to forget about what the future might hold and concentrate on the now, even if he did ruin perfectly good ice cream.
“What?” Con asked, becoming aware of my scrutiny.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Okay.” He got up and rinsed the bowls before putting them in the dishwasher.
“Aren’t you going to ask?”
“I just did. You said nothing.” He dried his hands on the dish towel hanging next to the stove, then resumed his place across from me at the table.
“You’re going to leave it at that?”
“Sure.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “Oh, I get it. This is one of those times when I am supposed to read your mind and continue to probe even after I have asked you a direct question that you answered with a euphemism for ‘mind your own damn business.’ ”
“Exactly.” I was amused by his rational interpretation of the completely illogical.
“Do I get a hint?” He smiled back, obviously humoring me.
“Since you are not very good at this, I suppose I could help you just a little.” I leaned across the table, boosting myself out of the chair with one arm until our faces were mere inches apart. Then I reached out with my other arm and used my index finger to outline his ear. My eyes never left his, watching them as they darkened from emerald to forest before closing briefly.
He reached up and captured my wrist, stilling my hand, before pushing his chair back and rising. By the time he was upright, I was already standing, stepping closer to him. He caught my free hand and started backing out of the kitchen.
“You’re right. I’m not very good at this.” He leaned forward and kissed me very softly at the corner of my mouth. He never stopped walking. “I’m going to need another clue. Several, in fact.”
Chapter Thirty-one
“He doesn’t have a reason to run, Sara. Jepsen’ll be there tomorrow. We have to wait for the phone call to even confirm your theory about Millicent and Jepsen.” Connor had propped himself up against the headboard, the crumpled sheet tossed across his lap.
For a second I hesitated at the picture he made, shaking my head a little at the resurgence of desire. The man was dangerous. He was turning me into a sex fiend. I took clean underwear, a blue T-shirt, and a pair of shorts into the bathroom, leaving the door open.
“Sure he does.” I closed the door halfway, standing behind it to dress. “We know he killed Mitchell Burke,” I called to him. “We’re gaining on him. He’ll run.”
“He’s not going to run now.”
“I don’t know. Maybe Cort’s death has him spooked. Maybe having the cops pay him a visit and ask about Burke will be enough to send him running. I don’t know why he’ll run; I just know he will.” Stepping into the bedroom, I put a fist against my chest. “I can feel it in here.”
“He doesn’t know we found the car. He doesn’t know we know that Burke’s death was murder. He’s doesn’t have the money.” Connor put his hands behind his head.
“The money.” I moved to the bed and dropped onto the sheet. “He doesn’t have the money.”
“Exactly.”
“God, I never even thought of that. Of course he doesn’t have the money. That’s the reason he hasn’t bolted.” I slapped my forehead. “I am so stupid.”
“No, you’re not.” Connor tugged on the sheet, pulling me a little closer. I slapped at his hand.
“We’ve got to get this guy.”
“There’s nothing we can do until we get that phone call. We might as well catch up on a little sleep while we can.” He tugged again.
“Sleep?”
“Sure. What were you thinking?” He was all innocence.
I shook my head.
Connor walked out of the room without a hint of modesty, returning a minute later with two tall glasses of ice water. He handed me one, took a long drink from his, and placed it on the bedside table before sliding back under the sheet. He patted the spot beside him and I moved over, covering myself without removing my clothes. He put his arms around me. I scooted lower, finding a comfortable spot in his arms, pulling my p
illow beneath my cheek.
“He got away with it.”
“Not yet he didn’t. We’ll get him, Sara.”
A yawn nearly split my face.
“He’s thinking he got away with murder.” A second yawn and I was shaking my head to try to clear the exhaustion.
“Tomorrow.” Connor kissed my ear, burrowing into my hair, bringing our bodies into closer contact. I could tell sleep wasn’t the only thing he was thinking about.
“Connor?”
“We’re sleeping, Sara.” Just mention of the word sleep sent waves of exhaustion rolling through me. How long had it been since I slept more than a few minutes? Two days? Three? What day was today? Now that I’d let it in, the tiredness was taking complete control. My eyes stung with the effort to keep them open. I rolled over, laying my head against his chest, letting my eyes close.
Chapter Thirty-two
The alarm clock read 5:07 when I woke. For a second I didn’t know if it was morning or evening. I was wrapped around a pillow in the middle of the bed, having kicked the covers free. The room was still semidark. Connor must have closed the drapes to keep the afternoon sunshine out. Definitely evening. Twisting, I looked for him, but he was gone.
It was the phone ringing. In my exhaustion, my muddled brain thought it was morning and the alarm.
“Sara,” Connor called from the living room. “It’s some guy from the office.”
Morris. Shit. There goes my job. I flashed on Emma’s face. My job wasn’t everything. I reached for the extension.
“Hello?”
“Sara?”
“Joe. Wow. You called me at home.”
“Your cell phone isn’t on.”
“I had a long day. What’s up?” I sat up against the headboard and propped a pillow behind my back.
“The shit’s hitting the fan, here.”
“Where?”
“Work.”
“Why are you working on Saturday night?”
“When things are this screwed, the day of week is irrelevant.”
A sense of dread settled into my stomach.
“Tell me.”
“Masterson Enterprises’ payroll bounced.”
“Bounced?”
“As in there’s no money there.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know much. Just that there was some sort of automatic transfer from the regular payroll account to an offshore account. It had been happening for a couple months, slowly. It would have been picked up with the quarterly financial review, but it started right after the last one and wiped out the bulk of the account before payroll on Friday.”
“How much?”
“At least eight million.”
“Has anyone seen Stuart Masterson?”
“No, but both he and Henry Jepsen are definitely on the cops’ I’d-like-to-see-you list.”
He’d run now. Money or no money, he’d fly.
“I’ve gotta go.”
“Wait, Sara. Elizabeth is looking for you.”
“Why?”
“She’s an evil bitch? Seriously, watch your back. If she finds out you’ve been snooping around Stuart Masterson, she’ll be gunning for you before you can get her.”
“Get her how?”
“Let’s just say what Morris doesn’t know about Elizabeth’s sex life doesn’t hurt her or you.”
Of course. Rich, lecherous old man and gold-digging social climber. A match made in hell.
“Thanks, Joe.” I hung up.
I stepped from the bed, stretched, and went in search of Connor. I found him sitting at the kitchen table, its glass top covered with stacks of files, my laptop humming before him. He had the phone trapped between his shoulder and his ear. I stepped behind him, putting my arms around his shoulders and leaning down to kiss his free cheek. He turned his head, redirecting the kiss to his lips.
“Thanks a lot. Yeah, that number’ll work. When? Great. Thanks. Bye.”
Connor leaned over, hanging the phone in its wall cradle.
“Hi.”
“Hi. Sleep well?”
“Like a log. You should’ve woken me.” Releasing him, I walked to the counter, where I helped myself to a cup of coffee from the pot he’d made. Taking a sip, I closed my eyes and savored the caffeine surging gloriously through my system.
“You needed the rest.”
“Did you sleep?”
“I don’t need much.”
“That call from the office . . .”
“Anything good?” Connor asked.
“The payroll at Masterson Enterprises bounced.”
“Hmm. That’s not good.”
“Especially if you work there.”
I leaned against the counter, cradling my favorite ceramic mug and sipping the rich coffee slowly.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought I’d work on putting together our stuff for Sergeant Wesley. Sooner or later we’re going to have to give him everything we’ve got and let him run with it.”
I moved to the table and pulled out the chair opposite him. Sitting down, I glanced around the stacks of documents.
“Any revelations since this morning?” I asked.
“Maybe.”
I sat up straighter.
“Maybe?”
“I’ve been thinking.” Connor pushed the laptop to one side, leaning his forearms on the table.
“You’ve been thinking . . .” I prompted, enjoying the suppressed excitement I could see in his eyes.
“What are the chances that Mitchell Burke’s death and Matthew Cort’s death aren’t connected?”
“Slim to none.” I took a deep drink.
“Okay, so say we’re right about Henry Jepsen. He kills Mitchell Burke and makes it look like an accident.”
“The slimeball.”
“Why?”
“Why is he a slimeball?”
“No, why did he kill Matthew Cort?”
“Because Matthew Cort discovered that the pension plan was looted.”
“That’s just it. How could he have discovered that?” Connor searched the stacks, finally pulling out a court document and flipping pages. “Babe, I’ve looked through every piece of paper. Nothing talks about the pension. You told me your firm was treating it as top-secret.”
I sat down in the chair opposite Connor, resting my arms on the table.
“So if Cort didn’t know about the pension . . .” Connor began.
“We don’t know that he didn’t know.” I played devil’s advocate.
“True, but for the sake of argument let’s assume Cort didn’t know. Why would Jepsen kill him?”
“Maybe Jepsen just thought he knew. Cort’s asking questions; Jepsen’s afraid it will bring the cops. So, he panics and kills him.” I leaned back, not thrilled with my reasoning. It held together, sort of.
“He hasn’t panicked before. Why now? And why there?”
“The alley?”
“Yeah, why would Cort meet Jepsen there? He’s investigating the guy for murder. He thinks he’s got something to prove the case. So a seasoned investigator agrees to meet his suspect in the middle of the night in a drug zone. I checked his bio. He was in the army. Served in Vietnam. Two tours. No soldier with that kind of time in makes a mistake like that.”
“I think you’re putting too much faith in the military brain of a fifty-some-year-old guy. It’s been a long time between wars, Connor. He probably thought he could handle it. He was a big guy, and look what he did for a living. Macho city. Maybe he just didn’t think it through.”
“He gave up home-field advantage. I just don’t buy it.” Connor ran his hands through his hair, giving it a spiky look.
I pushed back from the table. Connor was right. There had to be a reasonable explanation for what Cort had been doing in that alley. How would Jepsen have convinced him? What did Jepsen have for leverage? I snapped my fingers.
“Blackmail.”
“What do you mean?”
Connor got up and went over to the sink, refilling his water glass and taking a drink before turning back to me.
“Maybe. We don’t know what Cort was like, or his financial condition. He might give up Emma for a quick buck. But where would Jepsen get the money?”
“We’re back to the missing money.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe the pension’s not all that’s missing. Joe said the embezzlement could have been done by computer. Maybe the same is true of the tax fund and the office fund and whatever else. Jepsen could have still had the codes or whatever and helped himself after he got canned.” I knew it was weak.
Connor turned the computer toward me, hitting a couple of keys. I stared at the screen, scanning the notes I’d made after first going to Jepsen’s office. “He didn’t have a computer.”
Closing my eyes, I pictured Jepsen’s office. “He didn’t have a computer,” I repeated, disheartened. “Maybe he just promised the money but wasn’t actually intending to give it up. ‘I’ll meet you in the alley for your payoff and I’ll bring a little something for your thick skull’?” I made it a question. “Or maybe there was another accomplice. Maybe it was her. The secretary with the claws.”
“Your notes say there wasn’t a computer in the office. If she were the computer-literate type, wouldn’t she have one on her desk?”
“I doubt her skills were primarily clerical.” I half smiled.
“Even so”—Connor’s lips twitched—“there’s no sign either one of them knew how to hack into Masterson’s system. And there’s no evidence that Masterson was stupid enough not to change his security codes when he threw Jepsen out.”
Catnapped Page 23