Kat finally found time to drive over to check out Research Analytics. She pulled up to the curb and put the Lincoln in park. The only space big enough to park Harry’s boat-like Lincoln was a block away. That was okay, since parking down the street allowed her to observe Research Analytics without drawing attention.
Harry insisted they take his car, which of course meant she had to drive. Despite losing his driver’s license, he’d repaired the Lincoln after the accident and refused to sell it. He sat beside her in the passenger seat, rolling his thumbs. He fidgeted constantly now, although seemingly unaware of it.
“Watch the whitewalls, Kat. You’re going to scrape them.” Harry sucked in his breath. “Why do you always park so close to the curb?”
Kat turned to Harry. “I’m six inches away. Open the door and see for yourself.” She always parked further away to avoid this endless debate, but Harry’s perception of space and proximity to things seemed off now.
Harry averted his eyes and rolled his thumbs faster. “Why are you arguing with me, Kat?”
“No, you’re right, Uncle Harry. I am too close.” Kat suddenly realized why he was agitated—the door handle. Dementia’s mental erosion was uneven. Harry remembered lyrics from the hit songs of his youth, yet forgot how to work a door handle. Even in a car he had owned for thirty-plus years. “I’ll try to be more careful next time.”
Kat jumped out of the car and ran around to the passenger side to open the door. She studied the street front while she waited for him to exit. This part of the city was a jumble of storefronts and three-story apartment buildings, built mostly in the forties to the seventies. Except for the faded paint and disrepair, it remained almost unchanged from its heyday. Even the people here oozed tiredness. She shut the car door. “Ready?”
Harry nodded and they plodded up the street. It was his old neighborhood, just three blocks from the house he grew up in.
“Where are we, Kat?” Harry glanced around in wonder. “I’ve never been here before. It’s sure busy around here.”
“I know.” Kat didn’t correct him. It would only upset him, and they were already at their destination. Research Analytics’ corporate headquarters appeared to be a stucco apartment building with a vacancy sign out front. She walked up to the front door and inspected the suite listing. None of the names were even remotely similar to Research Analytics. The closest thing to suite fourteen hundred was number twelve, listed as belonging to A. Knopf.
Just as she had suspected, Research Analytics was a complete fabrication. The phone number hadn’t checked out either—it turned out to be a disconnected number. Fictitious vendors were a common method of insider embezzlement. Kat pulled out her cell phone and snapped a picture of the building as evidence for her report.
An hour later, Kat sat across from Zachary in the Edgewater Investments’ boardroom. Despite it being a Saturday, half the offices were occupied by people talking on the phone or typing on their computers. Snippets of hallway conversations drifted in through the open boardroom door as people sauntered by with their morning coffees.
She pulled a thick stack of documents from her briefcase and set it on the table.
“What have you got? Enough to nail him, I hope.” Zachary appeared almost happy. An odd reaction since discovering his partner—and father—was stealing from him.
Kat’s investigation had brought more questions than answers. One thing was certain: Edgewater and the Barron family would never be the same again.
She drew in her breath. Zachary wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “I’m working on it. Here’s what we’ve got so far.” Kat recounted how the money had moved from Edgewater to Research Analytics.
“The investment research company you told me about? How much money are we talking about?” Zachary stared at her.
“Fifty million so far this year. Two hundred and twenty million last year.” She help up her hands and shrugged. “Before that—I’m still working on the number.”
He shot up out of his chair. “That’s impossible. I know something’s going on—but a quarter of a billion? That can’t be right.”
“Remember you said there was no money in the bank?”
“But that much? It’s impossible.”
“I’m afraid it is possible, Zachary.”
His smug expression morphed into panic. “How can we get it back?”
“I’m trying to figure that out right now. What I know so far is that Research Analytics is a sham. The address on the invoice is a seedy run-down apartment building on the eastside.” She spun her cell phone around to show him the photograph of the derelict building.
Zachary scoffed. “I knew it. Nathan’s a thief. I want to press charges, run him out of Edgewater.”
“Nathan didn’t act alone, Zachary.”
He stiffened and his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“He had help. Someone had to issue the checks to Research Analytics. He doesn’t have the security access to do that.”
“Well, who does?”
There was no avoiding it. “Victoria did. Edgewater’s auditors are suspect, too.” Kat explained the sequential invoice numbers and Beecham, including its connection to Nathan. Victoria was the only other person at Edgewater with access to the checks.
“They don’t exist? Nathan set up a fictitious auditing firm?” He didn’t seem all that surprised. Zachary’s lack of emotion troubled her. Didn’t he understand the implications? Or maybe he did, but was in denial.
“It’s very serious, Zachary. Everything about Edgewater is suspect. The financials, the investment performance—everything.” There was no way to sugarcoat it. “Edgewater’s broke, and so are you.”
“What do you mean, broke?”
Kat pulled the bank statement out of her briefcase and slid it across the boardroom table.
Zachary snatched the paper and was silent for a moment as he read her analysis. “I’ll kill the bastard.” He pounded his fist on the table.
Kat jumped, even though she had expected his reaction. “The hard part will be getting the money back. Do you have anything in reserve? Any lines of credit?”
Zachary shook his head. “Isn’t there any money left?”
Kat shook her head.
“You’re telling me I’m ruined?” Zachary jumped up from the table and paced in front of it.
Zachary was even more broke than Harry. He just didn’t know it yet.