The Fox's Choice

by M A Simonetti

  “Linda said that Zane had asked both Bradley and my father for money to go to the technical school but they both turned him down,” I said. “Do you know where the money came from?”

  “Zane told the bank tellers that he was free lancing as a computer programmer,” Jim said. “He probably said that to keep them from being suspicious of such regular large cash deposits. Rookie mistake. This kid should have set up a fake business account and laundered money through it.”

  Jim put his phone down as the waiter brought another platter of food. This time it was spaghetti tossed with shellfish. The sauce smelled like lobster. I felt nauseous. I reached for the tea to settle my stomach.

  “Here’s what we think happened,” Jim said as he helped himself to a pile of spaghetti. “Zane was a star at this technical school. They said he was almost a savant about how computers are programmed and how technology works. They had great hopes for his success. The fact that there were regular cash deposits to his bank account suggests that someone was supporting him and that they didn’t want to be known.”

  “Who would do that?” I asked.

  “Someone who recognized his talents and wanted to use them for their own gain,” Jim said. “A good hacker can make a lot of illegal money for themselves or others who hire them.”

  “What a waste of talent, then,” I said in disgust. “He should have used his skills to make an honest living.”

  “Bingo! The thing is, Zane has no criminal record,” Jim said. “He was a better than average high school student and pretty well liked by his teachers. He played baseball and had a job bagging groceries. He volunteered at the local library to teach older folks how to use a computer. He wasn’t one of those computer geeks who spend their lives in online gaming rooms.”

  “So he was a regular boy scout then.”

  “Something changed. Somehow he went from a decent kid to a predator who stalked women for money.”

  “Who could do that?” I asked.

  “That, Mrs. Fox, is the twelve million dollar question.”

  “That’s not funny, Jim.”

  “I’m not joking, Mrs. Fox. Once we find out who was bankrolling Zane, we will get your money back.”

  My nausea subsided. There was hope.

  Then Jim went and ruined everything.

  “Someone convinced the kid to start stealing other’s people’s money. Those other women were small potatoes. You were the prize. Zane was after you.”

  My nausea returned with a vengeance.

  “Why me?”

  “Because he knew you had a lot of money,” Jim said. “I’ll be interested to see what your father has to say about how much he told Zane about you.”

  Jim wasn’t the only one who wanted an answer to that question. My head spun, yet again, with the ins and outs of my last few days. Talk about life changing events. My life and the story of my life were nothing like they had been a week before.

  Jim kept talking.

  “Zane set up the money transfers to occur at regular intervals. The last set of transfers reunited all your money into one account. Zane set a trap around it that is pretty gnarly. If your money isn’t accessed with the correct password, it gets dispersed again and it could take months for us to find it again.”

  Jim picked up his phone and pounded the face of it again. The guy really knew how to abuse a keyboard.

  “The good news is that we set up our own trap. If anyone as much as checks that account, we can trace him. And then we’ve got him.”

  “Why is this good news?” For the life of me, I saw no silver lining.

  “Because whoever was working with Zane likely knows the password. How long would you wait if you knew you could get your hands on twelve million dollars?”

  I’d worked all my adult life to save that money so I guess I saw his point.

  “Keep this quiet, Mrs. Fox,” Jim said.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the cops,” I said. “It’s not like they’ve been any help to this point.”

  “I’m not talking about the cops,” Jim said. “Whoever tries to access that account is the guy who killed Zane. Don’t trust anyone.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I needed a few moments to compose myself so I relied on the age-old excuse and went to the Ladies Room.

  The Delta King had a better than average ladies loo with a nicely lit vanity and a separate sitting area. I splashed cold water on my face, ignored the condition of my hair and collapsed into a red velvet chair. I felt like I was one hundred years old or five years old, depending on which thoughts raced through my mind.

  In the course of three (or was it four?) days time, I had been drugged, lost all my money, worried that I was raped, discovered I had a half-brother, learned the truth about how my grandparents died and that my father had not abandoned me at all. And that someone had gone to the trouble of targeting me. Was that all of it? I had a hard time keeping it straight.

  Hopefully the trap Jim set would identify the thief and my money would be returned. But how long would it take? I didn’t have forever. I could stall on some payments but Fred, who cares for my cars and my housekeeper both depend on me to pay them on time. I needed money to tide me over. Yet there was no way I could trust a bank. The thought of asking Jorjana for a loan just didn’t set right with me. Leasing my house out would look bad and that would hurt my business. With any luck this mystery bad guy would get antsy and go after the account with the trap around it. He couldn’t move soon enough for me.

  My life was a colossal mess. The most aggravating part of it was none of it was my fault this time.

  I don’t know how long I sat in the red velvet chair. Not long enough to come up with a solution, that’s for sure. But long enough that Richard came looking for me.

  Richard poked his head through the door to the Ladies Lounge like he was peering into a den of snakes.

  “Alana, you’ve been in here a long time.”

  “I’m not feeling all that great.”

  “I can imagine. Come with me. Tina is ready for us.”

  I had no idea who Tina was but Richard’s voice led me to believe that Tina had my best interests at heart.

  That was enough.

  “Who’s Tina?” I asked Richard. He, Jim and I were settled into the SUV as the driver headed down one of Sacramento’s raised freeways.

  “Her husband is a client of mine,” Richard said. “I often stay with them when I am in Sacramento. They have a lovely home and it is much more comfortable than staying in a hotel.”

  “They don’t mind having me stay with them?”

  “Tina is very much looking forward to meeting you,” Richard said. “You will like her.”

  The driver took an exit off the freeway and eventually made his way into a neighborhood that may or may not have been close to where my father lived. It was hard to tell. There were so damn many trees in Sacramento.

  Tina and her husband lived in a home at the end of a long driveway that ran along a pasture complete with horses. The driver punched in a code at the security gate and drove in. The place wasn’t as big as the York Estate but it was big enough- and too big for its location smack dab in the middle of the suburbs. I wondered if Tina and her hubby had gobbled up their neighbors’ homes and razed them to put in the horses.

  The house itself was long and low- like it had been stretched out from end to end. I suspected you could run one of the horses around the house and it would be winded after one lap.

  The driver let us out at the fJimt door and said he would deliver our bags. I followed Richard and Jim into the house. The door was not locked. It appeared that we were indeed, expected.

  A tiny Asian woman greeted us in a spacious foyer.

  “Please to remove your shoes.”

  She gestured to an open cupboard that held an array of house slippers in various sizes. Richard and Jim knew the drill. They kicked off their shoes and slid into a pair of slippers. The little woman put their shoes into cloth bags and
stored them on a shelf.

  “‘I’ve got stuff to do,” Jim said. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

  “There are a couple of things I need to add to the Steven’s case,” Richard said.

  He followed Jim down a hallway and left me standing barefoot in front of the shoe cupboard.

  The little woman bagged my shoes and disappeared.

  With nothing better to do, I surveyed my slipper options.

  On closer inspection, I noted that the cupboard was made of bamboo and obviously an antique. It had the patina that only time and use can impart. It was a fairly large piece, much taller than me and as wide as a closet. Inside were shelves stocked with slippers embroidered with dragons or lily flowers and bearing gold characters that made no sense to me. I reached for a red pair.

  “You have good taste. Those slippers were made for royalty. They will suit you well, Alana.”

  The voice was female. I turned to face her.

  She was of Asian descent and she was dressed to perfection. Her skin and hair were familiar with the very best treatments. She wore a purple silk tunic and black silk pants and black slippers. Around her neck hung a Jade pendant carved to look like a phoenix rising out of flames of red coral. I suspected she was older than she looked.

  “You must be Tina,” I said.

  “Yes, I am Tina Lin. Welcome to my home.” She extended her hand.

  Her hand was cool and as soft as whipped cream. She held my hand longer than was necessary. She looked me straight in the eye and said, “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.”

  I had the uncomfortable feeling that she was sizing me up, comparing whatever she’d heard about me to whatever she was seeing in fJimt of her. I must have passed inspection because she let go of my hand and invited me into the living room.

  The house was as big as it looked from the outside. The foyer led to a hallway that ran the length of the house, very much like my father’s place but this hallway alone was as big as Jack Bennett’s entire house. I heard Richard’s voice coming from a room lined with bookshelves- a library no doubt. I glanced down the other way and spotted a woman dressed in scrubs carrying linens into a room. I caught a whiff of rubbing alcohol and old age.

  “My husband will not join us. He is unwell,” Tina said as she led the way. “We are fortunate that he can remain in the comfort of our home.”

  Tina Lin’s living room gave the York Reception Rooms a run for their money. There were three sitting areas and each one sported an extra long couch. A bar took up one entire mirrored wall and was stocked with every brand of liquor that you could imagine. A series of French doors opened to the back yard with a pool, tennis court and more horses beyond. At the far end of the living room, double doors opened to a dining room. It didn’t seat one hundred but it was big enough.

  Tina settled into one of the extra long couches and patted the space next to her. I ignored her and sat across from her. I may have seen a slight smile on her face.

  “Would you like anything? A beverage? Something to eat? Anything that I can do to make you comfortable, please let me know.”

  “I’d love some tea.”

  My request surprised the hell out of me. For the second time in the same day someone offered me a drink and I asked for tea. That surprise was followed by a memory. Every time I had sat at my Aunt Betty’s kitchen table after a rotten day at school, she made tea.

  Less than twenty-four hours in Northern California and I was reverting to my Clark coping skills.

  “Of course. Geo, please bring us a tea tray.” Tina spoke to someone behind me. In the mirrored wall I spotted a young man standing in the doorway to the dining room. He bowed slightly and disappeared. If he were as efficient as the York staff, the tea would arrive within minutes.

  “What brings you to Sacramento, Alana?”

  “My father is ill. I came to see him.”

  All true. Not all of the true, but enough of the true.

  “May he recover quickly and enjoy his daughter’s company.”

  “Thank you, we’ll see.”

  Tina reclined on the couch cushions apparently in no need to further the conversation. Her silence intrigued me. Richard and Jim had disappeared into her house without so much as saying hello to her-obviously they were familiar with the place. I heard dishes rattling. I heard a bell ding. I smelled rubbing alcohol again. A kettle sang. The house was clearly occupied by many people, all going about their business. Tina seemed oblivious to it. And to me. Her gaze focused on something behind me.

  I looked to the mirrored wall again to try to see what had her attention. Between the bottles of vodka and bourbon I saw that a serious of small lights were embedded in the wall. Some were green, some were red. If I had to guess, I would have said each light indicated whether a room was occupied or not. The lights were not readily apparent when you entered the room but from Tina’s vantage point, they were easy to see.

  I considered my hostess again. We sat in the middle seating area in the living room. She faced the dining room, which also sported a mirrored wall. A side table was within her reach. On top of the table lay an array of remote controls. A stack of magazines lay on the shelf below. The coffee table between us was littered with books- all current titles. I got the impression that Tina spent the better part of her day in that spot. She could monitor the activity in the house and see everyone coming and going.

  And the view was pretty nice. Well-manicured gardens surrounded the pool. The tennis court lacked a net. Italian cypress trees grew at the far end of the property and lent an air of privacy to the place. At first glance, Tina was living a lovely life in a beautiful home.

  But something was off.

  I looked out the French doors to the pool. It was a bright, sunny day outside but the windows looked like they were coated with that same stuff that darkens car windows. And the glass was thick. Very thick. Like it could stop a bullet.

  My gaze went out to the tennis court. Where was the net? Where was a fence separating it from the surrounding yard? The yard ran flat from the tennis court out to the pasture where the horses grazed.

  I thought about those horses. Grazing pastures completely surrounded the house. Why would Tina and her husband have so many horses? He was ‘unwell’ and she did not look like a horsewoman.

  Geo delivered the tea tray. He was slower than the York staff but his ability to put a tea tray together could teach Jorjana’s people a thing or two.

  The silver tray was the size of a door. Two china teapots, two sets of china cups and saucers, crystal cream pitcher and sugar bowl, linen napkins. Loose teas sat in crystal boxes with lids. Tiny sandwiches with the crusts cut off, mini scones with jam and clotted cream, shortbread cookies and a small chocolate cake.

  “Shall I prepare the tea for you, Alana?” Tina asked.

  As she leaned forward to pick up the teapot, the seat cushion beneath her pulled away from the side of the couch. Pulled away enough to reveal a very large, very black handgun stashed between the cushions. I tried to make my gasp sound like a gasp of delight.

  “This looks lovely. Thank you, Tina.” I accepted the teacup she offered and helped myself to cookies. I gathered my wits while sipping the tea and nibbling on the food.

  “How do you know Richard?” I asked, wits somewhat back in line. They’d been scattered so much the last few days, I wasn’t sure how many I had left. But I had enough left to be curious about a woman who read magazines by the light of bulletproof glass with a gun at her side.

  “My husband, Karl, is a client of Richard’s. Richard was very helpful to Karl many years ago and the two became friends.”

  She paused as if waiting for a reaction from me.

  Karl. Karl Lin. I felt as if I should know who he was.

  “Richard represented Karl when he was accused of smuggling drugs into the country. Richard proved Karl’s innocence and Karl is forever grateful.”

  It came to me then. A drug smuggling scheme that funneled opium throug
h the Long Beach Harbor had made headlines back when people were still shocked by that kind of thing. The defendants were all Taiwanese nationals. Kuan-yu Lin, know as Karl, was among those charged. As I recalled, the operation was shut down but no one actually went to jail. Richard had not proven Karl innocent as much as he proved him not guilty.

  “That must have been frightening for you,” I said.

  “Karl and I were not married at that time,” Tina said. “Richard brought us together much later.”

  “He brought you together?”

  “Yes. Richard helped me out of a difficulty. He realized that Karl and I had much to offer each other. Karl was in poor health. I needed to stay in the country. I am an advocate for my husband’s health care and he keeps me safe.”

  She said this matter-of-factly and I liked that about her. No beating around the bush. No nonsense about being soul mates that met late in life.

  “So, why do you have a gun in the couch?”

  Tina arched an eyebrow. No Botox in this gal.

  “There are those who still wish Karl harm,” Tina said. “We have a full security staff. There is a gun within reach in every room of the house. In an emergency, our helicopter can take off from the tennis court.”

  “Wouldn’t that spook the horses?” I said, trying to lighten the moment.

  “The horses are part of our security,” Tina said. “There is nothing more skittish than a horse. If someone tries to sneak onto our property, the horses will let us know.”

  “Clever.”

  My appetite was gone with that. I put my cup and saucer on the tray.

  “Tina, why are you telling me this? We just met.”

  “Oh, but I feel that I have known you for years. Richard has told me everything about you. I thought you would understand our life.”

  “Why would I understand?”

  “Because Richard only falls for dangerous women.”

  “What do you think she meant by that?”

  I was in my room in the guest wing of Tina Lin’s home. It had been one hell of a long day. I was tired and cranky and venting to Jorjana over the phone. I’d spent five minutes apologizing for not calling her sooner and ten minutes relaying the visit with my Aunt Betty. By the time I got around to describing Tina Lin, I was spent and had no energy left to dissect my relationship with Richard. I needed Jorjana to do that for me.