You Again

by Val Tobin

“Zach,” Gabriel cut in. “Think back. How were things at her previous job? Any idea if she did this before?”

  He pondered a moment and then shook his head. “If she did, I have no idea. Probably not. She took vacations at her other job. They laid her off though. Work shortage. She was doing books in the accounting department for an auto parts company. Strikes at the automakers and a downturn in the economy caused layoffs, and she was low man on the totem pole. They scaled back in all departments, and she was let go.” He picked up his empty cup as though about to take a sip, saw it had nothing in it, and set it down.

  Carl stood and offered to get him another coffee. Zach nodded absently, and Carl walked away.

  “I’m sorry for everything you’ve gone through,” Gabriel said. “Who might she have worked with?”

  “She was friends with Katrina Weever, but I guess you know that.”

  “Were they close friends?”

  “I thought they were just work friends, not best friends. They went for drinks after work sometimes. Once a week, maybe. At least, that’s what she told me they did. After all this, who the hell knows what she was up to?” For the first time, rage clouded his features. “She lied to me. She tricked me. I thought she was excelling at work.” He pressed his palms on his thighs and rubbed them along the denim. “For all I know, she was cheating on me too.”

  “Do you think it was all to buy luxuries? Or did she have an addiction?”

  “As far as I know, it was to keep us in the lifestyle she craved. She wanted the good life. I guess that was her addiction: clothes, a nice house, a boat, a nice car.” Zach met Gabriel’s gaze, sorrow and regret in his eyes. “If I’d known what she did to get all that, I’d have told her not to. All I wanted was her. Kids. A little place to call our own. I don’t care about all that other stuff. It was nice, sure, but not if it costs us everything. I’ve lost everything, Gabe.”

  Gabriel remained silent. He had nothing to say to that.

  ***

  Ellen reread Gabriel’s text message and sighed with relief: I’m heading home. Will fill you in at work.

  She’d spent the last half hour either pacing her living room floor or leaning over the kitchen sink hoovering a bag of two-bite brownies in one bite per brownie. As soon as she received the message, she acknowledged it and put the food back in the cupboard. At least she could go to bed now.

  She washed up and put her pyjamas on, but by the time she was ready for bed, she was no longer sleepy. With a sigh, she picked up her tablet so she wouldn’t have to turn on any lights, climbed into bed, and accessed the e-book she was currently reading.

  Her parents were already asleep. All sound from the upper level had ceased an hour ago. Their habit was to go to bed at 10:00 and get up by 6:00. Ellen’s habit was to go to bed at whatever time she felt tired enough and, if she was lucky, sleep through until morning. Often, she woke again at 2:00 or 3:00 and had to read or check social media to kill time until she could fall asleep again. When the alarm woke her at 6:30, she’d drag herself from bed to start her day. Tonight felt like one of those restless nights, her mind too busy to allow her to wind down.

  About twenty minutes had passed when she thought she heard a sound at her kitchen window. Was that glass breaking? Slowly, her heart thudding, she set down her tablet and picked up her phone. She called 911 while she made her way to the bedroom door and closed and locked it.

  When the operator responded, she hysterically whispered her emergency into the phone, her gaze riveted on the doorknob. To her horror, it turned slowly, first one way then the other. The person on the other side rattled it gently, then more insistently. A scratching sound told her the person was now trying to pick the lock. Her terror rising, she backed away from the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Please, help me,” Ellen whispered into the phone pressed to her ear. “He’s trying to pick the lock on the bedroom door.”

  “Can you get out of the house from that room?” the operator asked, her voice calm and steadying.

  Ellen ran to her bedroom window. “I’ll try. Hurry. Please. If my parents come downstairs, he might hurt them.”

  “The police are already on their way, ma’am.”

  Ellen threw open the blinds. She pushed the window glass to the side, and, climbing onto the end table next to her bed, shoved the screen onto the grass. She hauled herself up and out just as the intruder burst through the door and into her room.

  Without looking back, Ellen ran for the neighbour’s house, clutching her phone to her ear.

  Oh, God, just get him out before my parents find him or he hurts my cat.

  She didn’t care if the police caught him; she just wanted her parents to be safe. In the distance, she heard sirens.

  ***

  Ellen arrived to work on time the next morning and went straight to Gabriel’s office. He was already at his desk, sitting in front of his computer, a cup of coffee at his elbow.

  “Hey, good morning.” He rose to greet her but stopped in his tracks when he saw her expression. “What’s wrong?”

  She gulped, forcing down tears and hysteria. The moment she laid eyes on him, she wanted to break down and draw comfort in his arms.

  “Someone broke into my home last night.” Somehow, her voice came out steady, with only a hint of worry and nothing of the fear that plagued her.

  “Oh, God. I’m glad you’re okay. Tell me about it.” He reached her and took her in his arms.

  Tension immediately evaporated from her body, and she breathed normally again.

  “Whoever it was got in through my kitchen window. I was awake and heard it, or the person would have made it into my room without me knowing. I don’t know why he—or she—came, but all I can think about is Katrina.”

  “Christ. Tell me everything.” He guided her to the sofa against the wall, and when she was sitting, he buzzed Mrs. Carbajal and asked her to bring them a pot of coffee.

  As Ellen talked, his arm draped comfortingly across her shoulders, and she eased into him. She kept her gaze across the room, focusing on a painting he had on the opposite wall. It had already been in the office when he took it over. Not an especially captivating print—it was a simple still life of a vase of sunflowers—she nevertheless used it to keep her from meeting his gaze. Whatever he felt, she didn’t want to see it in his face.

  The coffee and a plate of assorted pastries sat untouched on the coffee table in front of them while she told him what had happened from the moment she heard a sound in her kitchen to the moment she reached her neighbour’s house and banged frantically on the door.

  “He disappeared by the time the police got there. My parents never even knew anything was wrong until the police arrived.” She finally turned to face him, her mouth quirking up into a half-smile. “They kicked the door down. At least by then I’d phoned my parents to tell them to stay upstairs, and I met the police when they arrived. They kicked in the front door to my parents’ place and went into my apartment.” She laughed. “I don’t know why I’m laughing. I can’t stop.” She buried her face in her hands and shook with laughter. “Oh, my poor parents. They were so scared.”

  Gabriel pulled her into his lap. “Okay, it’s okay. You’re releasing stress. It’ll be all right.”

  She instantly grew serious. “How can it ever be okay? Someone broke into my house. He probably wanted to kill me.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. “Don’t think it doesn’t terrify me. What did the police say?”

  “They dusted for prints. I called Detective Morris and made sure the officers on the scene knew it probably relates to his murder investigation. They’ll give him whatever they find, I guess.”

  “Did you see who it was?”

  “No. I just wanted out of there. If he could kill Fran and Kat, he could kill me too.”

  “If it was the same person.”

  “You can’t possibly think it’s a coincidence!”

  “No, I don’t think so.�
�� He eased her back onto the couch and handed her a cup of coffee. “Drink this. Eat something. Have you eaten today?”

  She shook her head. “I wanted to get here so I could tell you what happened.”

  He frowned. “You should’ve called me last night.”

  “I’m sorry. It was late by the time the police left, and Mister Cuddles and I went upstairs to sleep at my parents because only cardboard covered my kitchen window. They’re getting it repaired today.”

  “You need a security system. Especially now we know you’re a target.”

  “They’re getting that installed as well. Not sure it’ll be today, but they’re looking into it.”

  He took her hand. “Then, until it’s safe for you to stay at home, you have to stay with me.”

  She thought about Katrina, and he must’ve read her mind, because he said, “If you’re in my bed, I can keep a closer eye on you.” He smiled, but he wasn’t joking.

  Ellen agreed because if she was away from home, her parents would be safer. She’d make certain they kept the door between the basement apartment and the main part of the house shut and locked at all times. Mister Cuddles could stay upstairs with them. If the intruder had been after something he thought she had rather than her, he might return, and by then, they’d have better security. But if he was after her, why? She hadn’t figured out who’d killed the two women, and she hadn’t discovered how Francesca had funnelled the money she’d skimmed.

  She remembered to ask Gabriel how his meeting with Carl and Zach had gone. He summarized it for her and said, “I’ll want you to go through her personal files. Zach has allowed us to come to his place and look at whatever she has there.”

  Ellen shook her head. “I don’t know about that. What if he killed her? He might want to ...” She didn’t want to finish the thought. This whole thing made her stomach hurt. She sighed. “I don’t want to deal with this anymore.”

  Gabriel’s arms tightened around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. If you’re afraid, I understand if you want to back away from it. You don’t have to go to Zach’s with me. I can try to interpret whatever files he has by myself.”

  “No,” she said. “I’ve gotten this far, so I’ll keep going. I’m just tired and want peace.”

  “I get it. Listen,” he said, “let’s do something fun tonight. Go to a movie. We’ll visit Zach’s after work tomorrow. It can wait. We’ll make sure your window is fixed, and the security is installed, and tonight, we’ll go to the movies and forget about everything.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she replied. Part of her thought they were shirking their duties even though the murder investigation wasn’t their responsibility. “Why do I feel so guilty for taking time off outside of work hours?”

  Gabriel kissed her cheek. “You feel bad for Zach. I do too. And money might be transferring from BRI accounts into private accounts Fran owns that Zach doesn’t even know exist. We’ll figure it out, but not tonight.” He eased away from her, and they stood. “If you’re all right now, we should get to work. Something you find today could help us tomorrow night. Make a list of any money transfers that seem hinky to you. We’ll see if they line up with anything we find at Zach’s tomorrow night.”

  Feeling better than she had since the night before, she hugged Gabriel. They parted, and Ellen went to her office, ready to tackle whatever she might find.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Six o’clock the next night found Gabriel and Ellen inside the apartment Zach had shared with Francesca for the last three years. He ushered them into a large living room with lavish furniture and sumptuous decor. Everything coordinated in light wood, cream walls, and soft, green accents. Ellen guessed Francesca had hired a professional to decorate it. When Zach invited them to sit down, Ellen eased herself onto a lushly padded sofa next to Gabriel.

  Zach offered them coffee or tea, but neither Gabriel nor Ellen accepted. Ellen feared spilling something on the expensive furniture or carpeting, but she suspected Gabriel simply didn’t feel like having anything right now. He never worried about offending people and never appeared self-conscious no matter the situation he found himself in.

  “How are you keeping, Zach?” Ellen asked.

  He looked healthy enough despite an aura of sorrow hanging about him. Bad enough he’d lost his wife without finding out she stole most of the money she’d made. The apartment itself was in an expensive location in the heart of downtown Toronto, and it had three bedrooms and a den.

  It would’ve cost them over a million and then add maintenance fees ... Ellen quickly estimated a variety of expenses that went into this home. She couldn’t help herself. Francesca was young, and the job she had didn’t pay what she’d appeared to spend.

  However she’d done it, Francesca had embezzled to get this place. Unless—

  “Did Fran inherit money recently?” Ellen asked.

  Zach shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking when you look around here. We bought this place with money I thought we’d earned.”

  “I had Fran’s job,” Ellen whispered. “It doesn’t pay enough to support this lifestyle.” She hesitated again. “I appreciate you helping us figure this out, and I’d love to prove Fran did nothing wrong. Would you mind if I looked at both of your tax returns for the last three years you filed?”

  “Sure. I’ve got her computer booted up and logged in under her user ID.”

  “She gave you that information?”

  “Yes, but she never expected me to want to go into the financial files. She took care of all that. She’d never expect me to even understand most of it if I did open them up.” He turned a pleading gaze on her. “Please, help me figure this out and then fix it. I didn’t want all this if it meant we stole from anyone.”

  Ellen stood. “Okay, let’s see what there is to see.”

  ***

  By the time eight o’clock rolled around, Ellen had not only gone through all of Katrina’s time-tracking reports but had also rooted through Francesca’s desk, coat closet, and file cabinets. If there was anything to find, Ellen was determined to uncover it, and in one of the file cabinet drawers, she discovered a folder labelled “KatTech.” The “Kat” on the label immediately brought Katrina to mind, so Ellen pulled the file and set it aside. She finished riffling through the rest of the folders in that drawer but found nothing as intriguing as the KatTech folder.

  She closed the drawer, sat down at the desk, and opened it up. Inside, she found what appeared to be an itinerary, in Francesca’s name, for a trip to Las Vegas, scheduled for four days in early December. Documents showed hotels, flights, and scheduled meetings with a variety of people she listed under the heading “Potential Investments.”

  Francesca planned to take a four-day business trip to Las Vegas? Ellen had never heard of KatTech, so if they were clients of BRI’s, they were new to the company, and she didn’t see mention of them in the folder. But if this was business, then why would Francesca book this over a weekend? It looked as if this was personal business, and she was using vacation days to go.

  But I thought she didn’t take time off? Ellen logged into BRI remotely and opened the company database. She retrieved all records that showed any time off Francesca had taken from the time she started working at BRI. They weren’t many, and at the most, she took two days off, all coinciding with weekends. Ellen checked the days shown on the itinerary and verified that two of them were on a Saturday and Sunday.

  Of course. If she only took a day or two during the week, she could either file whatever she needed to before she went away, file remotely while away, or catch up when she returned. She’d never need to get anyone to replace her during her absence.

  Clever. This way, no one else looks at BRI’s financials but her. It was a lot of power for one controller to hold. When Ellen had worked at BRI, she’d had others on staff who could take over her more critical duties when she went away for a whole week or more. If Francesca n
ever took time off, she’d never need to ask anyone to back her up. Ever.

  No wonder she’d gotten away with it for so long. Now to find out where KatTech fell in the database.

  Ellen went back to work but wasn’t at it for long when she heard a tapping on the office door, and Gabriel stuck his head in.

  “Hey, anything I can do to help?”

  “Where’s Zach?” She kept her tone low and peered over Gabriel’s shoulder. No sign of Zach.

  “Living room. I’m hoping we can leave soon. He’s tolerating the intrusion, but I can tell he’s anxious to hear a report on what you’ve found.”

  “Okay, I’ll wrap it up, but first, come see this. I’ve found something interesting.” She told him about the folder she’d found and the itinerary for Las Vegas. “So far, I haven’t found anything on KatTech in BRI’s database.”

  She sifted through the documents in the folder again, looking more closely at the pages relating to the hotel Francesca planned to stay at. “It’s a trade show.”

  “What is?”

  “She’s attending a trade show at the Desert Island Hotel in Vegas.”

  “What kind of trade show?”

  Ellen scanned the documents. “Software. The list she’d compiled of people she wanted to meet with said ‘potential investments.’ I think she was scouting for a business to back.”

  Gabriel’s face registered shock as he realized what this implied. “To launder her money? How the hell much did she steal?” Anger clouded his face. “She destroyed this business for personal gain. They came close to bankruptcy.”

  “I know.” Ellen couldn’t think of anything helpful to say but felt the need to validate his outrage.

  Suddenly, a look of delight crossed Gabriel’s face. “Interesting. Las Vegas, eh? Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he teased.

  “God, I hope not,” Ellen replied. “Unless you’re thinking we need to turn this all over to Detective Morris.”