Chapter Sixteen

Monday, 1:00 p.m.

“Say that again.” My voice was weak, my ears unbelieving.

“You don’t have any spare cash, Kimberly. Your house, car, your mom’s house and car, bills, expenditures. Your money is tied up.” Carl Edwards, my accountant, licked thin lips as he slouched forward. “Investments.”

“Like stocks? Can’t I sell them and get immediate cash?”

“It will take a few days and you’ll lose money. Early withdrawal penalties, taxes.” He spread long fingers wide and lifted his narrow shoulders in a weak shrug.

Carl resembled a human tumbleweed, skeletal and ready to blow away—unless his scrawny frame got gobbled up first by his taupe leather executive chair. Thinning ash hair covered a white skull and his tawny eyes were almost devoid of color. His white shirt and beige sports coat draped like curtains on a lanky body that was probably the color of dirty chalk. I’d never liked him, but Rick assured me he was a genius with money. The corner office with its teak furniture in a Santa Monica high rise indicated that he made money somehow.

“How much do I have?” I asked, fighting irritation.

He tapped a manila folder on his desk with a yellow-nailed finger. “Right now you have approximately seven thousand in your cash account, but that won’t begin to cover your bills. If you don’t get another paycheck…” Another shrug.

My throat turned parched as a desert and I could barely croak out words. “You’re saying I’m in the hole? I make more than a million dollars a year and I’m in the fucking hole? How can that be possible?”

Carl had controlled my money since I’d signed my first anchor contract. Rick told me I needed someone to oversee my assets so I didn’t end up owing my life to Uncle Sam. He claimed his accountant could make us rich and provided glowing reports of the man’s abilities.

Was this what Rick meant about going through our money situation? But Rick was gone, and I was faced with a bank account shrinking as fast as the emaciated figure across from me.

“I want an explanation, Carl.”

“I keep several liquid accounts for you. One covers fixed payments like your cars, houses, employees. You live on credit cards for personal expenses so I maintain two cash accounts to pay them, plus cover unexpected extras.” He steepled bony fingers with a pen between them, rolling it back and forth, skinny neck twisting his head from side to side as he explained. “Every time the first account accumulates more than twenty-five thousand dollars, I remove the excess and put it into the second account in case you need it later. If I see a good financial deal, I use that money for investments.”

This sounded better. “Can I use that account to live on until I get a regular check again?”

His thin face wrinkled like a prune. “No, you can’t. You see Rick and I…”

I wanted to jerk the pen from his hands and fling it at him. Instead I waved my hand to stop him. “Rick has nothing to do with this.”

“Of course he does. Have you forgotten? You opened that second account in both your names. He used it more than you ever did.”

Fear inched under my skin, sending a prickling sensation through me. “You mean to tell me you put my money into a cash account every month, and he spends it?”

“No, like I said, we’d invest it. Funds, stocks…”

“Then sell the stocks and give me the fucking money! I don’t care if I pay penalties. I need it now!”

Carl sagged like a collapsing skeleton. “He took it all out.”

I felt like I’d been slapped. Hard. “What?”

At least the prick had the decency to look away, face ashen. “The week before his death, he asked me to move it all into his account to pay debts on the shop.”

“What do I have to do with his debts? Get the money back!”

Regret filled his pale eyes as he turned back to face me. “I can’t. His sister has power of attorney and all his assets are frozen. ”

“But it’s my money!”

“I know, but it’s in his personal account.”

“You never thought to ask me before you gave it to him?”

“We consistently moved money back and forth. I understood that he had your permission. I send you statements each month. You’ve never disputed them.”

While wild anger pinched my side, I didn’t protest. The statements sat unopened somewhere on my desk at home. Carl paid my bills and provided cash whenever I needed it. Nothing was ever late and if I made sudden purchases, I had unlimited credit cards.

“We’ll sell stocks to cover the bills from the Four Seasons plus other expenses this month. You said you needed a lot of money right away. How much?”

I hesitated, but there was no way around it. I fastened my gaze on the edge of the desk. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“An investment? I can look into—”

I jerked up and skewered him with my eyes. “It’s personal.”

He began to blink rapidly, face growing more chalky if that was possible. “You and Rick live too close to the edge...”

“Forget Rick! This is my money. What you’re saying is he stole it and you let him. That’s fraud.”

It was as though a puppeteer had jerked up a skeleton figure straight in the chair. “Oh, no! You and Rick shared that account. It was a private agreement. As far as I’m concerned, both of you had legal rights to that money.”

“I should sue your fucking ass.”

He cleared his throat. “It isn’t like he tried to cheat you. Whenever he removed money he responded with shares in his shop. You own half of it.”

“Does that mean I have profits coming?”

“It’s barely solvent. You know how he is, I mean, was. He spent anything it ever made. And now…” He spread his hands wide, shaking his head.

I knew how Rick loved to spend. I used credit cards, but Rick kept a wad of cash in a diamond encrusted money clip that I’d given to him for his birthday. He tipped lavishly and never skimped on anything. Had I helped finance that?

“I never asked what he did with his money,” Carl continued. “I know he spent fifty thousand dollars on jewelry in the last two weeks. I just paid that bill.”

“Fifty...” I shot to my feet and leaned forward across the desk as a horrible thought choked me. “If you tell me he spent my money on jewelry for that rich bimbo, I’ll pound you to smithereens.”

He gulped, blanching—if he could grow whiter—and reached for the phone, fumbling it and dropping it on the desk. “Don’t threaten me. I’ll tell the police. They already think you…” he stopped and I could feel the mood in the office shift. Color returned to Carl’s sunken cheeks and he replaced the phone.

“You’re threatening to sue me for fraud, but do you realize what this means?” He lifted the folder and rapped it sharply on the desk. “If police discover you think he ripped you off, it provides a perfect motive for killing him.”

His final words were issued in a hoarse tone, and for an instant I saw delight creep into those amber eyes. Oh, shit.

It was my turn to clear my throat, seeking to wipe the slate clean. “So now what?”

His smile reminded me of a grinning skull. “No one needs to know your financial arrangement with Rick. That was between the two of you.” His bland tone made his words more sinister. “My advice is to let me go through your finances and see how much money we have once current bills are paid. If I were you, I’d go home and return the rental car. You can’t afford this lifestyle until you return to work.”

I knew he was right, but I refused to agree with him, so I rose. “Let me know what you figure out. I’ll call later.”

I left Carl’s office furious with him and Rick. What had the Weasel been doing with my money? How had he expected to pay me back? Did he think I was never going to discover his theft? Or was he hoping his new girlfriend might help?

Fuck Rick, who was going to help me? How was I supposed to come up with two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for Toby?

****

Tuesday, 2:00 p.m.

Returning home should have been such a joyous occasion. Beyond the windows, the ocean sparkled in the sunlight, but my mood was as gloomy as a foggy June morning.

“Kimberly?” Lindy’s voice floated down from above.

“I’m here.” I dropped my purse on the kitchen counter.

She came to the edge of the stairs to peer down from the top landing. “I didn’t expect you until later. I’m packing my things.”

I started to sit on the hard sofa, but rejected the pain. Maybe I could sell the ridiculous thing for a good price on eBay and replace it with something cheap and cushy. I walked upstairs where Lindy was frantically changing out of a jogging suit. Unless I was wrong, it was mine.

Anger roared through me. “Have you been wearing my stuff?”

Her pale face turned bright red. “I ran out of clothes and this is the only thing that fit.”

“How would you know that if you didn’t try on my stuff?”

She winced. “I didn’t. I…I looked in your closet…well, maybe I tried on a jacket, but it was too big.”

Too big? Just because the woman was a stick! “Versace gowns and all you tried on was a jacket?”

Her eyes shot toward the closet as though it might tell me the truth. “I couldn’t touch them. They’re so…fancy...” She sounded so frightened I believed her.

As I looked at her anxious face, her comments hit home. Yes, she was close to my height, but her shoulders and waist were smaller.

“Don’t worry about it, Lindy. Keep the jogging outfit. It looks better on you.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn it anyway. “I have some bags in my car. Can you help bring them in?”

“No problem!” She did her nodding thing before hopping down the stairs.

I began shoving through hangers in my closet, seeking evidence that she’d tried on other things. While the elegant designer gowns might intimidate, the designer suits provided a huge temptation. Perhaps she’d been afraid to remove the plastic cleaning bags.

A sudden thought hit me. Spotting an Anne Klein suit that I hadn’t worn for a while, I pulled it out. My mother didn’t like the navy color and it was tight. I selected a pale champagne silk shell and a scarf I’d never liked, plus a pair of black Bally pumps that I considered frumpy.

That completed, I went downstairs and checked the refrigerator. It was stocked with fresh fruit and yogurt. I took out grapes, rinsed them and went back to the sofa, munching and plotting while Lindy made three trips upstairs with my bags.

“I’m sorry about this...” She waved her hand at the jogging suit after completing her task.

“Don’t worry,” I reassured her. “What are you doing this evening? Working?”

“I’m off tonight.” She glanced around as though searching for something. Maybe she was making certain she didn’t leave anything or had replaced everything she’d touched.

“No hot date on your night off?”

Lindy turned bright red. She sank onto the chair across from me and pressed her hands between her knees. “This guy asked me to dinner tonight, but I don’t have anything to wear unless I go home. Do you need me to stay? Are you going out? I saw the suit on your bed...”

“I got that out for you, actually. Do you want it? It’s two years old, but it’s classic. You could wear it to meet that guy.”

Her eyes widened as they lit up. “You would give me that? It’s beautiful.”

I feigned indifference. “It’s too small for me, and I wanted to give you something for helping me. I’d like you to do something else in return.”

“Anything!” Her eyes were vibrant and thankful.

“I want you to pretend to be me when you leave. I think we can pull it off if you put on the suit and wear one of my dark wigs. Hell, I’ll even throw in a Fendi bag. What do you say?”

Her face crumpled into uncertainty. “The press will know it’s not you when I get in my car.”

It wasn’t the press that concerned me. “You can borrow mine and we can swap cars tomorrow afternoon. Reba’s taking me to Rick’s memorial, so I have to go to the station.”

She tried to keep from smiling, but I could see her excitement. By the time she left in my car, wearing my suit and wig, I felt good about my efforts at subterfuge. I donned a blonde wig and dressed in jeans and a bomber jacket. Pulling a baseball cap low over my eyes, I went out to her Toyota. If anyone was following me, they should have gone after my Mercedes. The street was empty.

This was one trip I needed to make alone. Keeping a careful watch on the rearview mirror, I turned her car in the direction of the ocean and my meeting with Toby, the Blackmailing Bartender.

****

Mira Loma Pier, 7:00 p.m.

Toby waited at the end of the pier, staring at the ocean, a light breeze ruffling his blond hair. I surveyed the people near him before approaching. An elderly fisherman in a gold cap fidgeted with his line. A portly Hispanic man and pregnant woman huddled around three poles while a child danced around them. Farther down the pier two lone fishermen leaned over poles in the water. My footsteps thumped on the wooden planks as I walked toward Toby.

His head jerked up and he stared at me in confusion before recognition dawned. He moved forward, shoulders hunched, hands in pockets. “Hello, Ms. delaGarza.”

I put my finger to my lips and approached with caution, looking from one direction to the next, trying to see if anyone turned when he called my name. Could I be recognized? I was taking no chances. I wore dark glasses, even though the sun was sinking low at the edge of the ocean. The cap hid a portion of my face and I pulled the collar of the jacket up around my neck.

Toby’s smile switched from pleased to crestfallen as I snapped my fingers.

“Let’s hear the recording,” I demanded. I didn’t like this situation. I should have let Hank handle it. But if the police heard that audio…

Toby glanced around, as though he feared someone might overhear. “It’s on my phone. I left it in the car.”

“You were supposed to bring it.”

He leaned toward me, voice lowering. “Did you bring the money?”

This time it was my turn to waffle. “I wasn’t going to bring it out here. Let’s walk back to the parking lot.” What would he say when he found out I didn’t have the money? Hopefully I could stall for a few days. Mainly I wanted to hear how much of our conversation he’d recorded.

“Are you certain we can’t resolve this some other way?” I asked as our footsteps thumped on the wooden pier.

He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets. “Like what?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to be a sportscaster? I might be able to help.”

He stopped walking. “You would do that? Even after what I did?”

“You haven’t done anything yet.” I made the offer out of sarcasm, but I sensed interest. Removing my sunglasses, I faced him, forcing false sincerity into my smile. “Maybe we need to talk this over.”

“I would do anything to be a sportscaster...” His eyes were intense. Definite interest.

I rushed on, punctuating my words by putting my hand on his arm. “Think of it, Toby. I pay this money and it’s over. Do you know how much our sports guy made last year? Twice that much. Not to mention network deals. All you need is an introduction to a top agent and someone who believes in you. Do you know who Evan Flynn is?”

His eager nod was no surprise. People pursuing broadcast careers knew Evan’s name.

“He’s my agent.” I squeezed his arm. “I could get you an introduction.”

His grin reminded me of an eager puppy. Even his mouth hung open and I expected him to pant. Would he go for such a simple solution? Maybe I wouldn’t have to spend a cent.

“The studio crew at the station can make an audition video. I’ll take it to Evan and recommend you. He trusts my judgment.”

“That would be awesome.”

This was almost too easy, and momentarily I regretted taking advantage of him. I leaned forward. “Just give me your phone. I’ll get you a new one—the latest model—and take care of everything else.”

His lips twitched and his nose wrinkled. “I don’t know. I need...”

“You need what? To think about the opportunity of a lifetime?” Somehow I knew if I didn’t get a commitment from him, he would change his mind.

He looked away, kicking his toe at the pier. “I need to think. I’ll call you later.”

Before I could react, he turned and ran, full speed as though I was chasing him.