“I’m sorry, Rosie,” Steely said, inching her toward the door. “She doesn’t realize what she’s saying.”
“I understand. My aunt Ruby is like that. She used to be so sweet; now she just insults people. Is it old age?”
Steely shook her head. “We don’t know.”
“Well, we cleaned up real good for you, honey. Everything went great here, except when those vandals broke in last year.”
“That was strange. We never had a bit of trouble before.”
“They turned the place upside down and pulled everything out of the drawers but didn’t take a thing. Figured it must be some troublemakers. Mrs. Yost came over and helped us put everything back together.”
“She’s a good neighbor.”
Bea stepped out of the bathroom and snipped, “I’m going to have to do my business with the door open. I’d get claustrophobia in there. Better pick up some air freshener. The breeze blows out of here straight to the kitchen table.” Bea directed her arms like the airflow.
Rosie scrunched her face. “That’s gross. Who wants to hear that?”
Steely moved Rosie out the front door. “Rosie, thank you for taking care of the house.”
“To clean up this place”—Bea circled the living room—”is going to take a staff of seven. What are those little—”
“Miss Bea!” Steely screamed, as she quickly followed the tenant out onto the steps. “Rosie, I’ll have your deposit check ready for you in the morning. Don’t worry about leaving Fur Ball. I’ll take good care of her.”
“There’ll be a check in the mail every month to cover the cost,” Rosie said.
“I really appreciate you and Joey.” Steely went back inside and held the door.
Bea slapped her foot. “I think—”
“Bye, Rosie.” Steely slammed the door, turned the dead bolt, and leaned against it.
Bea slapped her foot again. “A flea bit me. Fur Ball is a flea ball!”
Steely went and plopped down on the sofa. “Miss Bea, you can’t insult people like that. You have to be kind.”
Bea scooted back in her recliner and scratched her foot. “I just speak the truth.” She picked up the remote control and flipped on the news. “There’s nobody kinder than me, little girl.”
“That kind of kindness will get you a spot on the six o’clock news.”
“People didn’t used to be so whiney. You have to watch every little word, or somebody gets offended. People need tougher skin. They’re nothing but a bunch of titty babies.”
Steely lifted up. “I wouldn’t repeat that in public either.” She lay back, covering her head with a pillow.
“A bunch of weenies,” Bea grumbled.
“That either,” Steely said, muffled.
Chapter twenty-eight
Pierce stretched the phone around his desk, caught Nick’s attention outside his door, and waved him in. Nick wasn’t interested in hearing the fireworks going on between Pierce and Muffy, but he came in as directed. Pierce had finished reading the last decade of board minutes. Nick waited for his opinion. Had Keaton overstepped his authority or not?
“Calm down, Muffy,” Thibodaux said, with his Cajun twang. “It’s our first child. Who would have known an eight-month-old could repeat words that fast?…Oh, I see. So it was your sister who heard him.” Pierce’s eyes rounded in defense. “I’ve never heard him say it…Well, tell your sister babies aren’t supposed talk that fast. Probably broke the record for a baby’s first words. I didn’t talk that fast. Did you?” Thibodaux couldn’t express himself without his hands. “Certainly…I’ll never say it again…Yes, tell your sweet sister she won’t ever hear him say it again…Yeah, she was such a sweetie for bringing this to your attention. Sure, wouldn’t want him to get kicked out of his play group…No, I’m not being sarcastic. Play groups have boundaries.”
Nick was short on time. But even if he weren’t, he would rather be punched in the face than to hear another word of this conversation. He tried humming but still caught every awkward word. He eased out of his seat. Thibodaux waved him back. Nick ignored him and bolted for the hall.
Thibodaux covered the receiver with one hand, erroneously thinking it was a muting devise. “Nick, I need to talk to you. Get back in here.”
Nick reluctantly returned to the chair across the desk and covered his ears with his hands, using them as mufflers.
“Yes, Muffy, I’m listening…Whenever I think of that word, I’ll think of your sister. She’s such a sweetie…See you tonight, my love. I’ll be home in thirty minutes.” Thibodaux puckered up and squeezed a kiss through the receiver. “Muah.” He hung up and turned to Nick.
Nick was thoroughly irritated. “Pierce, you warn me the next time you’re gonna kiss a phone. It’s bad enough just listening to you.”
“Children are parrots.”
“I know people like that.”
“And that sister is a real sweetie. We let her stay with us for a few days. Now she critiques everything I do. Last night she barged into the bedroom and crawled in the bed next to Muffy. Gave me the creeps. Totally ruined the atmosphere.”
“Enough!”
“I don’t know if I—”
“Another word and I’m running out the door and not coming back.”
“I have to vent.”
“Not to me. Not today. Did you finish reading the minutes?”
“Yes.”
“How many of the subsidiaries did the board approve?”
“Only three in Saint Stephen’s.”
Nick slapped the desk. “The ones my dad set up?”
“That’s right. It’s like you said. The other hundred or so Keaton directed. Decisions of that magnitude are way over his authority level. He should’ve brought it all to the board.”
“So we have him for overstepping his authority?”
“Not exactly. He could argue that Jack gave him the authority to expand the subs.”
“He’d be lying.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Can he?”
“Probably not. But if you accuse the new CEO of fraud, you better have some rocks in your slingshot.”
“Well then, how about the audit before Jack left? That’s a boulder.”
Thibodeaux stretched forward. “It’s a no-good piece of sh— a no-good sweetie report.”
“Isn’t deception a crime?”
“Maybe.”
Nick flung himself to the edge of his seat. “Maybe? So Keaton could walk off with a couple hundred million in assets?”
“Sure could.”
Nick shot back. “Maybe I should just confront him.”
“For being a pathological liar? Nick, it’s like you said. This was set up to unravel after Denison got sick and you came in. They slowly cooked the frog and then took advantage of the transition. I believe you were a major piece of the plan. Your position is a liability for you.” Thibodaux dropped his head back, rubbed his eyes with his palms, and said, “They used you, Nick. Think about it. You did the audit that got Jack fired.”
“I didn’t volunteer,” Nick said indignantly. “In fact, I objected.”
“Jack can’t testify. If anything goes down, you’re the guy with his hands in the books. You, my friend, are in a grievous situation. This mess could be dumped in your lap and made to look real nasty. Keaton could say you were the mastermind. He’d be convincing. He believes his lies more than the truth.”
Nick put his head in his hands. “You’re right. I’m not sure I’d even believe me.”
“We’ve chewed on this for a year now. I hate to admit it, but you should consider Jason’s advice.”
“I have one chance.”
Pierce swung his chair toward a window and quickly swung back. “How often does it snow in Houston?”
“Almost never.”
“That’s about your odds. Almost none.”
“Then I don’t need to be concerned about risk. Do I?”
“Guess not.”
&nbs
p; Nick stood. “You going to help?”
“It’s only snowed once since I moved here eighteen years ago.”
“But when it did, even a few flurries shut everything down.”
“Sure did.” Pierce powered off his computer. “Now, Mr. Dichiara, I’m going home to my lovely wife and her sweet sister. Would you like to come for dinner?”
“Nope. I have to go get a heavy coat and pray for snow.”
Nick went back to his office. He prepared a timeline from the information he had gathered so far. If it was accurate, Keaton’s plan worked only if Jack left and never came back. Jack had patiently waited and planned on coming back at just the right time. His testimony would have blown up Keaton’s plan. But Jack didn’t come back. And Keaton succeeded.
Nick stretched his legs over the printer below his desk. Sleeping in a chair was a Dichiara trait. It served him well. He zoned out for a few hours. Then he opened his eyes and blinked several times, adjusting to light. For breakfast, he sipped stale coffee and ate cake filled with cream from a vending machine. Having checked the time, he reached for his phone and tapped in a number. The line rang twice.
“Tucker here.”
“Sheriff, this is Nick Dichiara. Were you able to reach your contact at Energy Oil?”
“Yep. She pulled the last canceled check paid to JHI. The back was stamped Saint Stephen’s Bank. Then, she randomly pulled checks from the last four years. Same stamp on the back. Ever heard of INS1, LLC?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s who they’re paying. Added up to over five million dollars.”
“That much?”
“Yep. By the way, we had to shut down the excavation of the Hunter vehicle. The cliff isn’t stable enough to hold the truck. It landed in the only canyon without road access in all of central Texas.”
“Do you have another plan?”
“I’m going to cut it out. I didn’t want to do that since there’s still some risk to my people. But we’re going to be very careful and go for it.”
Nick hung up. He did a quick web search and found Saint Stephen’s Bank. The institution’s assets on deposit were $450 million, the largest independent depository on the island. He punched in another set of numbers on his cell.
“Saint Stephen’s Bank, how may I help you?”
“I need to speak to the bank president, please.”
“Yes, sir. May I ask what it’s regarding? Maybe I can help you.”
“I’m calling about a few hundred fraudulent accounts—amounts could be higher than two hundred million.”
“One moment, sir, and I’ll connect you.”
Chapter twenty-nine
“Here’s your breakfast, Miss Bea,” Steely whispered, setting a plate of food on the table next to a cup of coffee.
Bea viewed the spread. “What do I look like—a glutton?”
“Just eat what you want. I’ll save the leftovers.”
Bea staggered to the table, still not seeing straight. Dry eyes, she complained before. Bea’s first night in the Paupher house had been rough. She couldn’t get situated. Her hair was in a wild tease from fighting with a blanket half the night. Steely could hear her during the night tossing around. No more than a handful of words were spoken until she finished wolfing down her second helping. Bea tapped the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Well, I guess I was still hungry from last night. Those weeds you call a salad didn’t stick to me.”
“I bet this will stick.” Steely picked up Bea’s plate to set it in the dishwasher, since there was nothing left to rinse off. “You ready for the store?”
Bea carried her cup to the bathroom. She grabbed the newspaper off an end table along the way. “I need a few minutes to digest my food and relax my bowels.” She left the door opened and plopped down.
“We sure don’t want any more episodes like we had at the drug store.” Steely ran a damp rag around the kitchen table.
“I told you. I don’t use public bathrooms. People wet all over the seat.” Bea turned a page.
“The security guard looked like he might chase after you when you ran out of the store.”
“He needs to mind his own business. You shouldn’t have left our basket.”
“I didn’t know what was going on. He might have thought you were a shoplifter running out in a frenzy like that. May still…”
Bea cleared her throat and turned another page. “Just give me a few minutes.”
Steely rinsed the rag and laid it across the faucet.
“Eee, this man’s been missing for a year. I bet somebody knocked him over the head. His wife and son are missing too. Their wrecked car was found last year in a river near Grey Canyon. They’re all out in the Gulf of Mexico by now. A bunch of nuts out there. That’s why I keep my gun by the bed.”
“Miss Bea, I’m taking it away if you point it at me again.”
“You had no business snooping in my bedroom.”
“I was checking on you. Please don’t point it at me again.”
“Quit your fussing. Jack said I have too many nightmares to keep it loaded.”
“Probably saved my life.”
“Huh. Get the car started. Nothing’s moving until we get back.”
“You sure?”
“Just go start the car, please.”
If she runs out of the store again, leave the basket in a corner and go back.
Sampson’s Grocery was the size of a football field. They sold everything from bread to auto tires. Steely pushed the cart down the aisle. Bea tagged along, which was good and bad. Good if they kept moving. Bad if Bea grabbed the cart, jamming the handlebar into Steely. They would have been on their way home thirty minutes ago if Steely hadn’t had to battle Beatrice Hunter on almost every item.
They circled to the next aisle. Jars and cans. The only thing they needed was pickles. Steely wasn’t expecting a battle over pickled cucumbers. Bea picked a jar from the shelf and dropped it in the cart. “Miss Bea, may we get the Sampson pickles?” Steely held up the jar. “This is the store special, fifty percent off. I have a coupon too. We’ll get it for almost nothing.”
“The best pickles in the world are Southern Springs.” Bea poked at the jar in the basket. “Period. Nobody pickles like Southern Springs. I’ve been eating those pickles all my life. My mother ate those pickles. My grandmother and my great-grandmother even ate them. It was her cousin’s friend’s sister’s neighbor who started the company. She knew pickles.”
Steely thought for a second about the conversation she would need to have with Bea. The one telling her they were out of money. “Miss Bea, I admire your loyalty to the pickle lady. My family, most likely, ate the cheapest pickles. I don’t really know. We weren’t pickle connoisseurs.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“I just hope you can adjust to a different pickle since we need to buy the cheapest. It isn’t Southern Springs.” Steely made the switch and pushed on.
“It’s seventy-five cents.”
“If we take care of the small things, it will take care of the big things.”
Bea huffed, “You’re driving me cuckoo with those coupons.”
Steely whispered, “Think of it as free money. If you work for twelve dollars an hour and you save seventy-five cents, it’s like getting three and three-quarters minutes of pay for free.”
Bea’s forehead creased. “A tank of gas must take a month.”
“Two hours, fifteen minutes.”
“We need a quart of milk.”
“Fourteen minutes.”
“Out of butter too.”
“Eleven minutes.”
“You’ve gone bananas.”
“Seven minutes.”
“How long did it take you to figure that?”
“It just comes to me.”
“You’re one odd cookie.”
“Five minutes for a big one.”
“Enough!”
They swirled around a corner to the next aisle.
Bea rumb
led, “Your budget is unrealistic. I bet a homeless person can’t eat for three dollars a meal.”
“Their meals are free at shelters.” Steely headed for the bread. “Nutritious too.”
Bea slowly tagged along, barely making forward progress. Steely dropped a loaf of Sampson’s bread into the cart. Bea wedged her shoe in a wheel. “Wait just a minute. You can’t force me to eat that bread.”
“Why not? It’s baked fresh in the store.” Steely tugged on the cart.
“You buy seafood at a seafood restaurant, steak at a steak house, Mexican food at a Mexican restaurant, and bread at a bakery. This isn’t a bakery.”
“Have you ever tried it?” Steely whispered.
“No!” Bea dislodged her foot. The cart flung forward. Steely pushed without resistance. A lady passed them, giving Steely a grimacing look. Steely smiled and pushed on. Bea stood behind flat-footed. “Are you trying to run off?”
“Just keeping it going.”
Bea caught up, and they moved in unison down the last aisle.
“I’m ready to go home,” complained Bea. “It takes you forever to get through a store. When I used to shop, I was fast.” Bea snapped her fingers. “I’m not pokey like you.”
“I am moving slower than usual.” Steely stopped at the toothpaste section.
Bea surveyed the array of boxed tubes. “When my parents ran a general store, we had the best and the cheapest of each item.” She held up a box. “We had two different brands. Not ten. The stores these days act like toothpaste is snack food.” Bea placed the tube back in its spot and read from the boxes. “Orange, cherry, vanilla, cinnamon, peppermint, spearmint, winter mint, and bubble gum. Gels, creams. Some whiten, kill bacteria, stop gum disease, control tartar. I guess the others let the tartar run wild. Fluoride, no fluoride. All this for a little dab on some plastic bristles.”
Steely matched a coupon with a paste that Bea didn’t use since her teeth were set in a plastic cup at night.
“You need to get yourself organized,” grumbled Bea.
“I’ve got an idea. Miss Bea, why don’t you get in line while I find the last item.”
“Did you make a poot?”
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