Her Alibi

by Carol Ericson

  “I can’t.” She waved the banana at him. “They’re in your safe and you didn’t give me the combination.”

  “Don’t take offense. I don’t give anyone that combination.”

  “None taken.” She snapped her fingers twice. “But can you open it for me now? Nothing from A.J. yet?”

  “Nope. You’ll be the first to know.” He disappeared into his bedroom, and she could hear him opening the closet door. He emerged moments later, clutching the files in one hand and dangling the flash drive from the fingers of his other. “Let’s not forget this.”

  “Okay, I’m ready.” She hopped onto a kitchen stool and patted the counter. “Let’s see what Niles held near and dear.”

  “Not you, that’s for sure.”

  When Connor dropped the file folders on the counter, Savannah grabbed his wrist. “I should’ve never married him.”

  “I could’ve told you that.” He slipped from her grasp. “While you look at those, I’m going to do some work, and then we’ll have dinner. Sound like a plan?”

  “It does.” She glanced at her charging phone. “As long as I don’t get any more anonymous messages. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. When is he going to turn that stuff he has on me over to the detectives?”

  “He’s not. He would’ve made a move by now. He wants something else.”

  “If it’s not money, I don’t know what he wants from me. Why doesn’t he just ask?”

  “He’s trying to keep you unsettled.”

  “It’s working.”

  “I’ll pour you a glass of wine. You need it.” Connor opened a cupboard and took down two wineglasses.

  She flipped open the first folder and ran her finger across the text. It contained information about offers for the company—they’d had several. She sucked in her bottom lip and closed the folder, smoothing her fingertips over the edge of the label in the upper-right corner.

  “What’s wrong?” Connor set the glass of wine in front of her.

  “This label does not match the contents of this file. All the paperwork in here deals with offers we received from other entities to buy out Snap App, and the label is for human resources.”

  “Misfiled?” Connor cupped his wineglass in both hands and swirled the ruby liquid.

  “Niles didn’t misfile anything—he was organized to a fault.”

  “You think he mislabeled the folders on purpose?”

  “Maybe.” She sat up straight. “So perhaps the file I took from the drawer the night Niles was killed, expecting financials from last year, didn’t contain financials at all.”

  Connor stabbed a finger at the stack of folders. “And that’s why someone cracked me on the head today in Niles’s office. He stole the file from you yesterday and it didn’t contain what he expected.”

  Savannah’s pulse picked up speed. “The HR papers that should be in this folder might be in another one. There could be something in Brian Donahue’s personnel record he doesn’t want anyone to see.”

  “We’re back to Brian?”

  “Those detectives are sure interested in him, since he’s disappeared.” Savannah shuffled through the remaining four folders, flipping through the papers inside. “No HR stuff at all, so the labels are totally random.”

  Connor touched his glass to hers. “I’ll let you figure it out. Dinner in an hour?”

  “Gotcha.” She went back to the first folder and started skimming the offers. None surprised her, but she could understand why Niles would want to keep this information confidential.

  She moved on to the next folder and flipped through some data on acquisitions—again, nothing earth-shattering, but nothing you wanted in a public forum or even employees to know about.

  When she studied the spreadsheets in the next folder, her heart skipped a beat. “Here’s the stuff I wanted in the first place, the stuff our thief thought he was stealing.”

  “Good. I guess Niles outwitted him.”

  Savannah trailed her finger down a column of numbers. “This is exactly what I was looking for. Payments received for orders placed for the past two years for our service contracts.”

  Connor called across the room, “That reminds me. I need to get a new accountant for the winery. Mine retired and I’m not great with numbers.”

  “You’re not the only one.” Savannah lodged the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth as she grabbed her charging phone and brought up the calculator.

  As Savannah got deeper and deeper into the figures, her fingers became unsteady as she tapped in the numbers. Finally, she slumped forward and dropped her phone.

  Connor looked up. “Get what you wanted?”

  “Yes and no. It looks like Snap App’s books have been cooked. Payments for deals we made for service contracts lasting several months have been reported in lump sums for the year. It’s called accelerating the revenues.”

  “Explain to the dummy, please.”

  “So a company places an order with us for four million dollars for a four-year contract, with an agreement to pay us a million a year.”

  “Sounds sweet.”

  “Yeah, but these figures show we weren’t amortizing the payments over four years, but reporting them as a lump sum in the year the contract was signed.” She scooped up the papers and waved them in the air. “It’s been done with several contracts, amounting to recorded payments in the hundreds of millions—payments that aren’t real.”

  Connor shoved his computer from his lap and jumped up. “That’s it, Savannah. Whoever falsified that information is the one who killed Niles and doesn’t want you to discover his misdeeds.”

  “I know. There’s just one problem with that deduction.”

  “What?”

  “It was Niles who did it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Connor hit the side of his head with the heel of his hand, as if to knock out his confusion. “I thought I had a handle on this.”

  “You do. Your theory would make total sense, but the truth is here in black and white. Niles has been fudging these numbers for two years.” She tapped the folder. “He’d been keeping the real numbers along with the fake numbers so he wouldn’t get confused, but the fake numbers are in the computer system. The fake numbers are the ones our stockholders are seeing—the ones I saw.”

  Connor circled the counter and faced Savannah. “His death is related to this. It has to be, but how? If someone found out and threatened to blackmail Niles, that person wouldn’t kill him.”

  “Unless he confronted Niles, they got into a fight and the blackmailer stabbed Niles to death.”

  “That doesn’t make much sense. When he killed Niles, he killed any chance for a payout.” Connor turned the folder around to face him. “Savannah, Niles had no intention of giving you these spreadsheets. He knew you’d take one look at them and figure out his scam—just like you did.”

  “What are you saying?” She grabbed her wineglass and took a swig.

  “Why did he invite you back to his house if he knew he wasn’t going to give you the figures you were asking for?”

  “Stall tactic?” She shrugged, but her violet eyes had turned dark.

  “When you went back to his place, he gave you that scotch, didn’t he? You saw your lipstick on the glass, so you know you at least took a few sips.”

  “Yes.” Her fingers curled around the stem of her wineglass. “You’re saying Niles is the one who drugged me?”

  “Who else? It was his house, his scotch, his misdeeds.”

  “No, no.” She slid from the stool and paced to the window. “You think Niles was going to kill me?”

  Connor slammed his fist on top of the folder. “He wasn’t going to give up those numbers. He wasn’t going to tell you he’d been cheating and lying. He knew you’d never go along with that...didn’t he?”

&nb
sp; “Of course he knew that.” Her eyes flashed at him.

  “Sorry.” He held up his hand. “Then the only reason for him to invite you back to the house and drug you was to kill you. Keep you from ever finding out what he’d been doing.”

  She closed her eyes and her chest heaved. “Even if I believe that—and I’m not saying I do—what went wrong? How did he wind up dead and I wind up scrambling to avoid an arrest for his murder?”

  Connor’s shoulders slumped. “That I don’t know. Why was Brian Donahue fired?”

  “Poor social skills. He couldn’t get along with anyone he worked with and actually threatened our CFO. We had him escorted off the property.” Savannah wrinkled her nose. “The whole thing was uncomfortable.”

  “Could he have been involved with this? It’s obvious someone else knew what Niles was doing, or found out.”

  “But why wouldn’t that person want it to come to light? Because that’s why he’s after this folder. He thought he stole this info from me the first time, and then thought he could get it from Niles’s office when he bashed you on the head.” She touched the back of her own head. “How’s your wound anyway?”

  Connor’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s hardly important right now...and it’s fine. Maybe he’s working so hard to get Niles’s secret folders because there’s some evidence of his blackmail scheme and even his murder of Niles.”

  Savannah slid the incriminating file away and pulled another one in front of her with a finger. “Last one to go through.”

  She flipped it open and squinted at the single page inside. “Oh, God.”

  “What now?” Connor leaned over her shoulder, taking in a bunch of names and dollar amounts. “What’s this?”

  “Niles’s private payouts. Apparently, he was using the company funds for personal payments.”

  “What a piece of work. I’m surprised the company didn’t collapse under him.” The names blurred under his gaze and he rubbed his eyes. “Anything big enough for a blackmail payment?”

  “Could be, but it’s the names that are giving me pause—and making me sick to my stomach.” She placed a hand on her belly.

  “Like who?”

  She skimmed the tip of her finger down the page. “He has payments here to Tiffany, which doesn’t surprise me, but Dee Dee is on here. I can’t imagine what that’s for, and I don’t think I wanna know.”

  He snatched the paper from her and flapped it in the air. “Looks like a list of suspects to me. That meeting with Dee Dee is going to be more interesting than you originally thought. Now, can we take this to dinner with us and pore over it while we eat? I’m gonna drop dead of starvation.”

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Savannah woke up in the guest bedroom. Connor had come a long way since the moment she’d confessed to Manny’s murder, but making love again didn’t seem like the right move...for either of them.

  She had her hypnotherapy session to get through with Thomas this morning before heading to the office, which she was now dreading.

  Why had Niles made an undercover payment to Dee Dee? To his sister? Why was he using company funds? And had he really been plotting her murder?

  Connor tapped on the door. “I made some breakfast.”

  “Thanks. How’s your head this morning?”

  He cracked the door and poked his head into the room. “Sore and I have a big lump—bigger than the one you had when you arrived on my doorstep.”

  She reached back and traced the bump on the back of her head, wondering if it had been delivered by the same person who’d attacked Connor. “That seems like a lifetime ago.”

  “I’m glad you turned to me.” Connor’s face reddened to the roots of his hair. “And I’m sorry.”

  “For what? You took me in, lied for me, are helping me find out what happened that night. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  Connor walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He took both her hands in his. “I’m sorry I had my suspicions about you and the night Niles died.”

  “Someone was trying to set me up. Why wouldn’t you have your suspicions? The truly amazing takeaway is that despite your suspicions, you took me in.” She raised his hands to her lips and kissed his knuckles.

  “Don’t you already know I’d see you through anything?”

  “Even though I killed Manny and blamed your father?”

  He disentangled his fingers from hers and smoothed the covers over her thigh. “You act like you did that on your own, like it was your idea. You were a young woman in shock.” When Connor’s phone buzzed, he held up his finger. “Hang on. A.J.?”

  Savannah scooted forward in bed, clutching the sheets.

  Connor nodded. “I see. Thanks, man. I appreciate it. I owe you a case of wine when the time comes.”

  He ended the call. “You were right. The scotch showed traces of Rohypnol. You were roofied—and maybe Niles was, too.”

  Savannah fell back against the headboard, her nose stinging. “I knew it.”

  “Savannah, maybe it’s time we go to the police.”

  She threw off the covers. “Are you crazy? We lied. You lied. You interfered with a police investigation, obstructed justice or whatever. You’re not going down for any of this, Connor. I’m not going to allow that.”

  “This information that A.J. has could go a long way toward clearing you.”

  “Those detectives may suspect all they want, but they still have no proof I was there that night. I’m not going to give it to them and neither are you.” She pushed at his broad back. “Now, get out of here. I have to shower and dress for my big day.”

  An hour later, Connor dropped her off in front of Thomas’s office and she made her way up the stairs, her stomach fluttering. She’d skipped breakfast this morning and she knew she’d made the right move, as she felt like throwing up.

  She followed the same protocol as last time and settled into the chair across from Thomas’s. “Should I lie down on the couch instead?”

  “Wherever you’re comfortable, Savannah.”

  She’d be comfortable in Connor’s arms right now, but this chair would have to suffice. “I’m comfortable and ready.”

  Thomas opened his hand to reveal a silver pen. “Just something to focus on while I put you under.”

  “No watch swinging back and forth on a chain?” She giggled and put her hand over her mouth.

  He smiled his patient smile. “We can do that, if you like.”

  “If the pen works, I’ll do the pen.” She clasped her hands between her knees.

  “It works better if you’re relaxed.” He nodded toward her knees. “Put your hands at your sides or in your lap. Relax your muscles. Lean back in the chair. You look ready to blast off.”

  “I am.” She let out a jagged breath and fell back against the chair.

  Thomas began at once, his soothing voice acting like a salve on her nerves. When he told her that her eyelids were getting heavy, she blinked slowly and had a hard time lifting them. Her breathing deepened and her head bobbed once, twice.

  They were arguing again.

  “Who?” Thomas’s voice had somehow found its way into the house she’d shared with her mother and Manny—a big house, bigger than anything they’d lived in before.

  “Mom and Manny.”

  Arguing, always arguing. Why wouldn’t Mom leave him? He bothered her—always found some excuse to touch her or stroke her hair. She hated him.

  She covered her ears. She should go out. Call Connor. But Connor was a grown-up now. He’d graduated from the police academy with top honors. He’d be a cop, like his father, and always be there for her.

  She’d go out there and tell them to knock it off, but she didn’t want to get in the middle of one of their fights. If only the fight were about her. If only Mom was warning Manny to stay away from he
r.

  But they were fighting about money. Mom wanted more.

  She sat up and yanked the earbuds from her ears. Something had changed. Mom was threatening Manny. Threatening him with exposure. Mom was accusing Manny of dealing drugs.

  She shimmied off her bed and pressed her ear against the bedroom door. Stop, Mom. She jumped back from the door when she heard a loud thump.

  If Manny had hit Mom, she’d have to do something. Call the police.

  Then she heard an even more terrifying sound.

  “What did you hear, Savannah?”

  “It’s a gunshot.”

  She flung open her door and rushed into the living room. She screamed.

  “What do you see, Savannah.”

  “Manny is on the floor, bleeding. Mom is standing there with a gun in her hand. I’m screaming. I can’t stop screaming.”

  Was she really screaming?

  Mom dropped the gun and shook her. Shook her into silence. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. She felt frozen. Suspended in space and time.

  Mom’s voice came at her from a long way away, but she couldn’t understand her. Couldn’t respond.

  Mom shook her again. Slapped her face. She didn’t even care. She wanted to curl up in a ball. She slumped in her mother’s arms.

  Mom pushed her away and grabbed her camisole. Mom ripped her camisole from her body. She didn’t care.

  Mom tugged down her pajama bottoms and her underwear. She didn’t care. She wanted to curl into a ball and go far away.

  Mom’s voice filtered into her brain. “It’s okay, Savannah. You didn’t mean to do it. Manny tried to rape you.”

  Did he?

  Mom’s hands, soothing and protective, stroked her arms. “Sit in the corner. I’ll fix everything.”

  She sank in the corner, naked, confused, shocked. Mom would fix everything.

  She blinked and met Thomas’s steady gaze. Then she covered her eyes with one hand. “I remember. My mom shot Manny and blamed me.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Connor watched Savannah walk down the stairs, and his lips curled up on one side despite everything they were dealing with right now. He couldn’t help himself.