Chapter 4

 

Sandy hurried toward the door, but not before she caught the word shelter.

“Sandy, sorry, I’m a touch early,” Penelope said, breezing in. “So hard to judge the time it takes to drive anywhere in this city, especially during rush hour.”

“You’re fine,” Sandy assured her. “Mary and I are just finishing our salads. Have you eaten?”

“I’m afraid I’ve become one of those septuagenarians who eats only once or twice a day, and only when I feel like it. Until this weather cools, I’ve hardly an appetite for anything.”

“Come in then, and let me pour you a glass of wine. Or there’s tea.”

They walked into the kitchen and Sandy saw the way Mary practically shrank in stature when she saw the elegant, platinum-haired Penelope who retained her very proper British accent despite having lived in America her entire adult life. Luckily, Pen had a way of putting most any person at ease.

“Mary, I am so happy to meet you,” she said, extending a hand. “Sandy has, of course, told us you’ve always been one of her favorite clients at the bank.”

Mary actually blushed a little as she shook Pen’s hand.

“I absolutely mean it, my dear. You won’t find a better friend than Sandy Werner. Months ago, she stepped up to help me. I must say, she has a group of the most loyal and generous friends one would want to meet.”

Pen accepted the wine glass Sandy held out. When the doorbell rang again, Pen offered to answer, giving Sandy and Mary a chance to finish their salads. Voices came from the front hall and by the time they drifted toward the kitchen Sandy had the plates cleared and an assortment of cookies set out.

Pen ushered in Amber Zeckis, the group’s youngest member, the computer-whiz girl who’d dropped out of college because she was smarter than most of the professors. The caramel-skinned pixie whose corkscrew curls defied taming.

“Wine?” Sandy offered, holding up bottles of both red and white.

Amber pointed to the merlot and tucked her iPad under her arm, her dark eyes sparkling as she accepted a glass.

“I wonder if it’s pleasant enough to sit outside,” Sandy mused, glancing at her shady deck surrounded by wispy-branched acacia trees.

“It’s nice out,” Amber said. “Maybe eighty-five? And the sun will be down in a minute.”

“Gracie should be along any time, so let’s go ahead,” Pen suggested.

They chose cushioned chairs around the glass-topped outdoor table. A small cactus garden grew in a talavera bowl in the center, one of Sandy’s few concessions to the native Arizona flora. Elsewhere in her yard, she favored leafy trees, hibiscus and other flowering shrubs, and kept a small patch of lawn—Bermuda grass during the hot summers—which her landscape service man would seed with a less heat-tolerant winter grass in another month or so.

“Since we’ve agreed to assist Mary,” Sandy said, “I want her to tell the story, give as much information as she can so we’ll have an idea what to do. But it’s best if we wait for Gracie, I think. Meanwhile, maybe a quick introduction from each of us? Let Mary know what skills we each bring to the group.”

A hesitant glance passed between Pen and Amber.

“Okay, then, I’ll start,” Sandy said. “You already know me from the bank, and basically the knowledge I contributed to our last little caper related to money. I can read financial reports, profit and loss statements, balance sheets and things like that. If we can get our hands on some of the data from your ex-husband’s business, maybe I can figure out how much money is at stake and get some clues about where it went.”

She turned to Amber, who picked up the narrative.

“Well, I love computers and digging around to find information,” she said with a dimpled smile. “Basically, if someone is trying to keep a secret but they’ve posted any clues online, I’ll find them.”

“The girl scares me sometimes,” Sandy said with a laugh. “She certainly has gotten into some banking information that I, as a banker, should be horrified about. As her cohort in solving crime … well, I’m happy to have her on our team.”

They both looked toward Pen.

“Frankly, I don’t know what I contribute. I went to Sandy when I needed her and she very generously stepped up. I booked some flights for travel, I suppose.”

“And you know everyone who’s anyone here in the valley. Most likely in the whole country,” Sandy said. “She’s a bestselling novelist, Mary, and seems to have entry to social events everywhere. I might remind—we found important information last time at one of those, plus, there are her contacts in other countries … And Pen’s gentleman friend is retired prosecutor Benton Case, and I have to admit we’ve mined a bit of legal strategy from his trove of knowledge.”

Pen tilted her head, small acknowledgement that Sandy’s statements were true.

Mary smiled at Pen with more confidence now. “And this other lady, the one who’s coming later?”

“Ah, that would be Grace Nelson. Gracie is a wife and mother—super organized. She keeps schedules and always knows who’s doing what,” Amber said.

“Except that it isn’t at all like her to be late.”

As if in answer to Sandy’s concern, the front doorbell chimed.

“See?” Sandy said, jumping up. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Gracie bustled through the house, like a perpetual motion device that ran until suddenly it couldn’t sustain itself. She collapsed into the empty chair beside Amber. Strands of her long, dark hair strayed from the clip at the top of her head and a sweaty sheen glistened across her forehead. She accepted both a tall glass of water and one of the wine glasses from Sandy.

“So sorry, gang. It’s always something with my family. This afternoon, it’s an unannounced extra practice for next week’s ballet recital. I had to drop my daughter off; Scott will pick her up and take the kids for pizza after. I swear, they only keep me around as their social secretary.”

“And here I was, just now bragging about what a great organizer you are,” Sandy said with a laugh.

Gracie rolled her eyes as she drank from her water glass.

Sandy straightened slightly in her chair. “Well. Enough about the rest of us. We’ve agreed to try to help Mary, so it’s time we gather facts. Mary, I know this is weird for you, and maybe somewhat uncomfortable, telling a group of people what’s happened. But you are among friends.”

Amber reached over and gave Mary’s shoulder a pat for emphasis.

“What can you tell us—about your ex, about his business, his actions, how he handled money—whatever we need to know to unravel this mystery?”

Mary downed the remains of her wine and took a deep breath. “Well. I pretty much told you yesterday, Sandy. He met a younger, prettier woman.” Her voice became thick.

“Don’t they all?” Pen popped up, already on her second glass of wine. “At some point, every man meets a younger, prettier woman. It doesn’t give him the right to dump the woman who contributed to his success and leave her stranded while he trots off with the new trophy wife. It doesn’t make him young and virile—it makes him a bastard.”

There was a moment of silence. Pen had once been married, and now Sandy wondered … But the tension evaporated instantly when Mary broke out laughing.

“Yes! That’s the thing I never could make myself say. I kept thinking I wanted him back, that I wanted our lives to go back to the way they were when we worked side by side. But you know what? I’m done with that. He had no right to leave me penniless—this is now about the money!”

“Hear, hear!” Pen called out.

Mary sent the older woman a look of such gratitude Sandy could tell a strong friendship had just formed.

Gracie had finished her water, switched to the wine, and now pulled an organizer notebook from her roomy handbag. “Okay, let’s get started with details. Mary, we need names, addresses, contacts—everything you can remember.”