A Wedding To Die For

“His first accountant?”

“Yes, the one who embezzled from him.”

He nodded. “Laura Montgomery. A bright woman. She had two sets of books. Took the Beadfords for just about everything.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

“Does she have something to do with his murder?” Reilly said. “Because she disappeared and—”

“I’m not sure. That’s for the police to figure out. I’m just gathering information. Do you know Sylvia Beadford?”

“Of course,” he said. “Nice lady. But perfume? She is worse than my ex-wife.”

“Does she come here often?” I was thinking if she did, she might have done the same back in Dallas and could have known Laura Montgomery.

“My ex-wife? Thank the lord, no.” He laughed.

“I meant Mrs. Beadford.”

“Oh. No, not often, but she did drop by on occasion. She’d bring Mr. Beadford shrimp po’boys from some little restaurant near their house or sometimes they’d go out to lunch together. The smell of shrimp, unfortunately, lingers long after it’s consumed.”

“Did you meet Sylvia in Dallas or when the business moved here?” I asked.

“I met her in Dallas. She was more devastated than Mr. Beadford when they had to file for bankruptcy. Most of that money belonged to her.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. They were co-owners.”

Co-owners, huh? Then she probably had met Montgomery. “And what about Graham Beadford? Did you know him?”

“Never met him. From what Mr. Beadford told me, his brother had some emotional problems after the business went under—which is perfectly understandable. And now I hear he’s... he’s gone, too.”

“Yes. It’s an awful time for the family. I have another question. When you joined the company to help straighten out the bookkeeping mess, what was the word about Montgomery? I mean, I’m sure people talked.”

“Not to me. I was an outsider brought in to fix things. No one said anything to me about her—no one except for Georgia.”

“Georgia?”

“Georgia Jackson. She’d been Ms. Montgomery’s secretary. Georgia and I worked closely for a time, and being black, she used some kind of oil on her hair. She always smelled like coconuts.”

“And what did she say about Montgomery?”

“I don’t remember specifics. But it was probably of a sympathetic nature. She was such a nonjudgmental person.”

“Do you know what happened to Georgia after the business moved?”

“Do I know? Of course. Mr. Beadford tried to hire back most of his people, but only three of us were willing to relocate. Myself, Georgia, and Robert.”

“And is Robert still here?”

“He died more than ten years ago. Smoker.” He shook his head in disgust. “Now there’s an odor that—”

“And what about Georgia? Does she still work here?”

“She retired.”

“And when was that?”

“Last year. She drops by, though. Takes care of her grandchildren while her daughter works, but when she has time off, she’ll bring cookies or pecans from her trees. League City has hundreds of pecan trees. But I never eat anything she brings. Children are not the cleanest creatures on God’s earth and who knows if those grandchildren helped make those cookies or bag those nuts.”

I was about to ask for the woman’s address, but I noticed Reilly’s gaze had moved to beyond my left shoulder and he had stiffened. “Mr. McNabb,” he said, nodding.

I turned.

Holt stood in the doorway looking like a different man than the one I’d encountered at the rehearsal and wedding. He wore an expensive-looking suit and his blue eyes were cold and clear and boring into me.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“I’m... doing a favor for Megan. She wanted me to personally thank all the people at the office for their kindness during this difficult time.” Weak cover story, but it might fly. The less Holt knew about me and my reasons for being here, the better I felt.

“Am I included in those thank-yous?” he said.

Before I could answer, Reilly said, “Miss Rose was just telling me Megan was especially grateful for those lilies you sent.”

Thanks, Reilly, I thought. You may be goofy, but you’re okay.

“I’m glad she liked them,” Holt said. But he still looked more than a little suspicious. “So you came here as some sort of ambassador for Megan?”

“I guess you could say that,” I said.

He looked at Reilly. “I need those numbers on the new account.”

“I’m almost done,” he answered.

“Good.” He turned and walked away.

I got up, thanked Reilly, and followed Holt.

“Wait up,” I called to his retreating back.

Holt stopped and faced me.

“Congratulations on the promotion,” I said, doing my best to sound sincere.

“Someone had to step in. Sylvia was in no shape to make decisions, and we had orders piling up.”

“I see. And she appointed you to take over?”

“That’s what James would have wanted. Someone who knew the company inside and out.”

He was obviously avoiding my question, so I pushed a little more. “And this is a permanent position?”

“Why do you care?” he asked.

“No need to get defensive. I’m just trying to be friendly... make conversation.” I was guessing Megan knew nothing about the takeover.

“Are you saying you want to be friends?” He smiled.

Did he have a little “charm switch” in his brain that he flicked on when needed? Because he’d definitely moved into charisma mode.

Guess he didn’t want Megan or Sylvia to receive a bad report about him from the likes of me. I decided to play him while I had the advantage. “How do you like the new job?”

The switch must have had a short circuit because his handsome features tensed—not an attractive change in demeanor, either. “What are you fishing for? Did Travis send you?”

I didn’t answer immediately, mainly because I was trying to figure out where he’d come up with that idea. Before I could reply, Holt took my arm and started toward a hallway that led to the restrooms. “I want to hear what he said about me, but away from my staff. They don’t need the distraction.”

“I can walk without your help,” I said, pulling free.

“I’ll bet you can,” he mumbled.

“Isn’t Travis your best friend?”

“He is. But he’s not a businessman. He could never handle this job, even though I think Megan wants him to step in here. And why does this matter to you, anyway?”

“It doesn’t,” I said. “I’m here because Megan is my friend and she asked me to come.” Sort of, I added to myself.

“So she’s checking on me?”

What’s with the paranoia? Is he into drugs, too? But then I remembered something