by Julie Hyzy
“Would you mind keeping an eye out for him?” I asked, providing the best description I could. “I know it isn’t much to go on, but I can’t help but believe he’s involved in this situation somehow.”
“You think he’s this elusive Craig person?” Tooney asked.
“Could be, but the truth is, I don’t know. No one has been able to give me a detailed enough description of Craig to discount this guy, though. They’re both very ordinary.”
We drove for a few moments in silence.
“So, you like this guy, then?” Tooney asked.
It took me a second to realize he was referring to Joe. I half smiled and shrugged. “I think so. There’s a lot I don’t know about him yet.”
Tooney kept his eyes on the road. “Want me to check him out for you? I’d be happy to.”
I reached over to pat his arm. “Thanks,” I said, “but I think this is a route I need to follow on my own.”
He nodded without looking at me.
• • •
Back at Marshfield, I called Neal Davenport.
“Grace,” he said with a smile in his voice. “How nice to hear from you.”
Before I could say a word, he interrupted.
“Regarding the matter we discussed the other day,” he said as he lowered his voice, “about Virginia and the loan applications, there’s nothing I’m at liberty to share with you right now. I hope you understand.”
“Yes, of course,” I said. “I’m sure this situation is causing a great deal of angst.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” he said. “But what can I do for you today?”
“I may have a lead on this Craig fellow the police are looking for,” I said. “I’m hoping you can help me.”
“Whatever I can do, although you remember that we looked through all our personnel files and didn’t come up with anyone with that name.”
“Right,” I said. “But I believe he interacted with your staff. It turns out that the inspection firm your bank recommends had an employee named Craig several years ago.”
“Okay,” he said slowly.
I pounced on his pause. “Is there anyone there, other than Virginia, of course, who may have worked with an inspection service firm? Specifically, AA+ Building Inspection? Perhaps someone there will remember him and be able to provide a last name.”
“Offhand, I wouldn’t know,” he said. “But I’ll be happy to check with Patsy and ask her what she knows.”
“Patsy?” I repeated. “That’s the woman who was out of the office when I was there, isn’t it? The one who used to work with Virginia?”
“That’s right,” he said. “I’ll see what she knows and call you back.”
“Would it be all right if I spoke with her directly?”
He drew in a quick breath but then said, “Sure,” and provided her extension.
“Thanks very much,” I said.
“Give me a call if you need anything else,” he said. “Or if you just want to get out of the office sometime to talk.”
“Thank you, Neal. I appreciate it.”
When I hung up, Frances poked her head in. “How’s Mr. Dreamboat?”
“Let him sail on without me,” I said as I picked up the phone again and started to dial.
“Come on.” Uninvited, she sat across from me. “It wouldn’t hurt to give him a chance.”
I was spared commenting when Patsy picked on the first ring. After identifying myself and assuring her that her boss had approved my contacting her, I launched into the reason for my call.
“It’s my understanding that you worked closely with Virginia Frisbie,” I began.
She answered with a snort. One Frances would be proud of.
“I’m sorry,” I said into the phone, sending my assistant a look that told her I was confused, “do I take that to mean that you didn’t work with Virginia?”
“I worked with her all right,” Patsy said. “But ‘closely’? If that’s the word Mr. Davenport actually used, he’s even more clueless than I realized.”
I tilted the phone slightly away from my ear and Frances leaned forward to listen in.
“I’m sorry if I misspoke,” I said, shrugging to let Frances know that I wasn’t quite sure why Neal thought it would be a good idea for me to talk with this woman. “What I’m really interested in today is knowing if you ever worked with AA+ Building Inspections.”
She made a noise of dismissal. “’Course I did.”
“Great.” I injected cheer into my tone to try to turn this conversation into something more positive. “I take it you know Cynthia Quinn, then?”
“Sure I do. The bank uses that company a lot.”
“Did you know one of the men who worked there a few years ago?” I asked. “First name ‘Craig’?”
“Yeah,” she said but with less vigor. “That sounds familiar. Kind of a charmer? Not too bad looking?”
“I think that’s him.” Her description, at least, didn’t contradict what I’d gotten from Oscar and Cynthia. “You wouldn’t happen to remember his last name, would you?”
“You’d think I would. After all, I had dealings with him for a couple of years before Virginia shooed me into a different department and stopped me from having anything to do with loans.”
“When was this?” I asked.
“Geez, maybe five years ago, give or take.” She made a thoughtful noise. “Everybody here thinks that Virginia was the best thing to happen to this bank.”
Frances and I exchanged a look. “You disagree?”
She snorted again. “She wasn’t a bad person. That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead or anything, but she was one of those super-sweet old ladies who had a core of steel underneath.”
I’d never met Patsy, but by her voice, I judged her to be in her fifties. “That’s interesting,” I said to keep her talking.
“People like Mr. Davenport, they love the Virginias of the world. Those women do everything they’re asked to do plus a whole lot more. They try and make themselves indispensible. Nobody’s indispensible,” she said. “The bank hasn’t closed since she died, has it?”
“No, it hasn’t,” I agreed.
“Yeah, well, there you go. But until Virginia didn’t show up for work Monday morning, Davenport would’ve been terrified to run this place without her. The rest of us are just as competent. But did we ever get the promotions and the perks Virginia did? Not a chance. She hogged all the plum assignments. Didn’t know the meaning of the word delegate.”
This was the first negative assessment of Virginia that we’d come up against. “I appreciate your candor,” I said. “How are things going now? Is there a lot of work to divvy up?”
She made another impertinent noise. “It’s a mess. Virginia kept everything locked up tight and password protected. We haven’t been able to get into most of her files. It’s chaos here.”
“Neal Davenport has been putting up a good front then,” I said. “He seems the picture of calm.”
“Because he doesn’t know how deep this goes,” she said. “I predict that there will be more aggravation before there’s less.”
“Are you saying that Virginia may have participated in something illegal?” I asked.
“I never said that,” Patsy said. “I don’t think she was embezzling from the bank, if that’s what you’re suggesting. We’ve got too many controls in place for anyone to get away with that. But do I think she was a control freak? Oh, yeah.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Not that I want to speak ill of the dead,” she said again.
“I understand,” I said. “And about that Craig from AA+, have you been able to think of his last name?”
“Not for the life of me.” A half beat later, she added, “But you know what? I can probably dig
through some of my files from back then. Maybe it’s recorded somewhere around here.”
“Thanks, I’d be grateful.” I gave her my office and cell phone numbers as well as my e-mail. “It’s a bit of a long shot, but whatever information you have on this Craig will be appreciated.”
“You think this guy killed Virginia?”
Frances shot me a look that said, “What did you expect her to think?”
“That’s for the police to determine,” I said. “But I suspect they’ll want to talk with him.”
“I’ll take a look today.”
Frances frowned when I hung up the phone. “While you had her talking, you should have asked her for the scoop on Neal Davenport.”
• • •
My phone rang later that afternoon but Frances picked it up in her office before I could even read the caller ID display.
Less than a minute later, she hurried into my office, pointing. “Your sister’s lawyer. Wants to talk with you about setting up an appointment with Bennett.”
I nodded, working to quell the sudden gyrations in my stomach. “Here we go,” I said, then picked up. “Grace Wheaton.”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Wheaton, this is Everett Young calling on behalf of my client Liza Soames.”
So my sister was keeping Eric’s last name. Well, that would make things easier. Wheaton versus Wheaton could get messy.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Young?” I asked.
He chuckled as though my question came as a surprise. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that your sister has engaged me to explore her options as they apply to making a claim on Bennett Marshfield’s property. Unfortunately, when I’ve attempted to open a discussion with Mr. Marshfield, his assistant informed me that all communication must be routed through you.”
“I’m surprised Liza didn’t advise you of that requirement before you went through all the effort,” I said. “I made that point quite clear to her.”
He chuckled again. “We do not need to be adversaries, Ms. Wheaton. We’re both on the same side.”
“Really?” I made no attempt to disguise my indignation. “Liza is attempting to wring money from our uncle. How can you possibly contort facts to presume that puts her on my side?”
“What I mean,” he said smoothly, “is that your sister has had a spate of bad luck.”
“More like she’s created her own bad luck and is sorry to have to pay the price.”
He continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “She’s destitute and dependent on family for her sole support. I know that as her sister, and as a compassionate human being, you don’t want to see her on the streets. You don’t want to commit her to a life of poverty. You know as well as I do that when individuals have nothing, they have nothing to lose. That’s where crime begins.”
I bit back a retort. This man was Liza’s advocate. There was no way I’d sway his stance. It would be futile to try. “You mentioned wanting to speak with Bennett,” I said to bring us back on track. “I can tell you that he’s open to a meeting.”
“I’m glad he’s seeing reason.”
I bit my cheeks again. The time to negotiate—or to kick them out on their backsides—was not now. I needed to bide my time. I needed to wait until we knew exactly what we were up against. And as Bennett had suggested, the sooner the better. “How does tomorrow afternoon look for you? Say about three o’clock?”
“Wonderful,” he said and began to give me his office address.
“Let’s meet here,” I said.
“Even better.”
I hung up and let out a long breath before calling Bennett to let him know that the game was on.
Chapter 20
Bruce and Scott had dinner ready when I walked in that night. “Hope you don’t mind Southwestern chicken with quinoa,” Bruce said. “It’ll be on the table in five.”
“One of my favorites,” I said.
“Bootsie has already been fed, by the way,” Scott said when I picked up my little cat to say hello. “She’s been pretty chatty this afternoon. It’s almost as if she senses that we’ve got a big project ahead of us and wants to help.”
I nuzzled her neck and scratched behind her ears for as long as she tolerated the attention, then put my soft, squirming bundle down on the floor.
“Let me run upstairs real quick to change.” As much as I liked wearing skirts and flats at work, I much preferred getting comfortable in pajama pants, a T-shirt, and socks when I was home.
Dinner was on the table when I got back. We all dug in immediately.
“How’s Oscar doing?” I asked between mouthfuls. “This is delicious, as always, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Scott said. “I particularly love these one-dish meals. Super easy, yet healthy.”
“And full of flavor,” I said, spearing an artichoke heart. “What a great combination.”
“Oscar is”—Bruce made a so-so motion with his fork—“a challenge.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” I said.
“We waited for him tonight—he was supposed to stop by before we left for the evening—but he never showed up,” Scott said. “Poor guy may not eat tonight.”
“I feel bad for him,” I said. “He probably isn’t used to a regular schedule.”
Scott shook his head. “I was sure he’d be there before we left. He said he was looking forward to another hot meal.”
“It’s not his fault,” Bruce said. “He probably lost track of time. He simply isn’t used to interacting with people so closely and so regularly. We’re working on getting him to do things like wash his hands after using the bathroom. And change his clothes more often than he’s used to doing.”
“Does he have a change of clothes?”
“We picked some things up for him at the secondhand store,” Bruce said.
Scott nodded. “And we’ve been giving him cash to get his clothes cleaned at the Laundromat. We hope he actually uses the money for that, but we can’t watch over him every minute.”
“That reminds me,” Bruce said. “When we talked with him this morning, Oscar remembered something else about this Craig fellow that he wanted us to tell you.”
“Oh?” I stopped with the fork halfway to my mouth. “Anything good?”
“He said that the reason Virginia and Craig were arguing had something to do with chips.”
“Chips?” I repeated.
“Oscar didn’t know whether they were talking about computers or potato chips. He said that they got into a heated discussion about it, though. And that Craig kept saying that, without chips, they were finished. He wanted Virginia to get him these chips.”
“Credit cards have chips nowadays,” I said, thinking back. “But I’m pretty sure the ones Joe found under Virginia didn’t.”
“I’ll bet that’s it,” Scott said. “Oscar said Craig talked about how, without chips, everything could be ruined.”
“Thank you, guys,” I said. “I’m convinced now that we’re on the right track.”
As we finished dinner, we talked a bit more about plans for the new Amethyst Cellars and I found out that they’d arranged to interview three contractors over the next few days. Anton had recommended two of them and they’d come up with a third choice on their own.
“Good luck with that,” I said as we finished up dinner. “Keep me updated.”
“We will,” Scott said. “Speaking of updates, is everything set for Liza? She arrives Tuesday, right?”
I groaned.
“Uh-oh,” Bruce said. “What don’t we know?”
I told them about Liza’s unexpected arrival last night and Aunt Belinda’s demands that I drop what I was doing to meet her at the Marshfield Inn.
“You went out with Joe Bradley last night?” Scott feigned hurt. “Keeping secrets now?”
“Not at all.�
� I laughed. “There’s simply too much going on these days. Everything is blending together and I can’t keep my days straight. Half the time I can’t remember who I talked with or what I said.”
As we cleared our plates and began to wash the dishes, Bruce said, “I get that. I feel as though it’s been a month since we took possession of the Granite Building. In reality it’s been less than a week.”
“How did it go?” Scott asked. “The date, I mean. Not your visit with your sister. That, I can imagine.”
“It went well,” I said.
They both stopped what they were doing to look at me. “That’s all you’ve got?” Bruce asked.
“There isn’t that much to tell,” I said. “We talked. We laughed. We had fun. We went over autopsy results.” I shrugged. “Not exactly high-time romance.”
“Oh, Grace,” Bruce said. His tone was one of disappointment, but he smiled. “You plan to see him again?”
“I hope so.” I’d learned the hard way not to get my hopes up too soon. “But I get the feeling this one will move slowly. He’s got baggage he isn’t ready to share yet.”
“Everybody has baggage,” Scott said.
“True enough.” My mind immediately whipped back to all the accusations Liza had hurled at me. She resented me, no question about it. I suppose I could have been a better sister to her, growing up. But for the life of me, I couldn’t imagine how. At the time, I thought I was doing my best.
Bruce dunked his hands into the sink’s soapy water. He glanced up when I placed the baking dish next to him. “Why the scowl?” he asked.
“Me?” I shook my head. “Letting my mind wander, I guess. Something Liza said earlier is bugging me.”
“Don’t let her get to you,” Scott said. “She’s toxic.”
“She is,” I agreed. “But it’s not that. She reminded me of a time when she was in the hospital and I wasn’t allowed to visit her.” They both stopped to listen. “I had the chicken pox and the doctors wouldn’t let me near her. I made Liza cards and drew pictures, but they didn’t want to risk her catching the disease, so I had to stay home. Liza remembers it differently.”