“I’ll bring the lasagna.”
“Sounds good.” He nods to the three of us before taking off.
Tilly squeals so loud in my ear it sponsors double vision for a moment.
“It’s a date!” she screams.
“It’s a date,” I scream right back.
Regina clears her throat and we look over to see Shep standing there with an amused look on his face.
“Forgot my briefcase.” He scoops it up as a wicked smile tugs at his lips. “Goodnight, ladies. And remember to stay out of trouble.”
“Stay out of trouble.” I grunt as soon as he clears the exit. “It’s as if he thinks it bears repeating.”
Regina steps over. “Knowing you, it probably does. So where are the two of you off to tonight?”
Tilly butts her shoulder to mine. “Well? Are we off to investigate or not?”
A thought comes to me.
“Wait a minute.” I crane my neck and catch a glimpse of Shep driving off down Main Street. “If Shep and his siblings are out for dinner, this might be the perfect time to head back to his sister’s office. If I can just get a quick glimpse of Wallace Hathaway’s account, it might paint a clearer picture of things. Like, maybe Madeline was moving funds to some of her other friends’ accounts? Or maybe she was siphoning additional large sums to Kiera?”
Regina shakes her head. “I don’t know who the heck those people are, but count me in.”
Tilly and Regina whip off their aprons, and in less than ten minutes the Mortimer Café is down three waitresses.
I’m about to peel back the curtain and see what information is hiding in Wallace Hathaway’s financial report.
Let’s hope it was worth the trip.
By the time Regina, Tilly, and I drive out to Sterling Lake—after an impromptu wardrobe change—Tilly insisted we show up clad in black, and after a jaunt through Pickin’ Lickin’ Chicken—Regina’s request because she was hungry enough to kill, and seeing that the only two potential homicide victims were Tilly and me, I happily acquiesced—Financial Premier is officially closed for the day. The parking lot is empty, save for a small pink car that touts the words Magnificent Maids on the side.
Premier Financial locked up over an hour ago, and there’s not an employee or customer in sight.
“What’s the plan?” Tilly whispers.
Regina rolls her eyes while cradling that bucket of chicken in her lap.
“You don’t need to whisper, Tilly,” she snips. “We’re still in the car.”
I make a face. “Just follow me and be very quiet. It looks as if the back door is being propped open by a mop. We’ll head in through there. Kelly’s office is to the left. I’ll need the two of you to keep an ear out and warn me if anyone is coming. There might be a straggler in there who has nothing better to do on a Friday night but sit in that industrial-sized box.”
Regina huffs while waving a chicken leg in her hand. “Why do I feel exposed?”
Tilly snaps off her seatbelt. “Oh come on, Regina. Once we finish up the jewel heist, we’ll hit Scooter Springs and I’ll buy you both a drink.”
The three of us head in and narrowly miss the cleaning lady who’s currently roaring up a storm with the vacuum and a set of headphones on.
We land in Kelly Wexler’s office and I shut the door behind us, closing my eyes a moment in hopes my heart will stop racing. But no such luck. In fact, when I open them back up and spot both Tilly and Regina sitting on the small sofa in the corner pilfering through that bucket of chicken, I nearly launch my heart out of my chest.
“Are you girls nuts?” I traipse over on my tiptoes as if that made this little breaking and entering escapade any better. “Why on earth did you bring that chicken in here?”
“Because we’re hungry.” Tilly takes an aggressive bite into a juicy looking thigh, and it takes all of my strength not to join in on the impromptu picnic we seem to be having.
“Keep an ear out for the housekeeper, would you?” I hiss as I head to the desk and in no time bring her computer to life—surfing her client files with ease until I hit Hathaway, Wallace.
Several portfolios pop up, but it’s the file marked Hathaway Foundation that I click into. The screen populates once again, and I note an entire column dedicated to donations.
“Bingo,” I whisper to myself as I quickly snap a picture of the screen.
I go as far back as I can, snapping away while Tilly regales us with stories of her naughty night with Jackson Mortimer.
“Wait,” I say as I’m momentarily disrupted from studying Wallace Hathaway’s philanthropic endeavors. “Did you say barbeque sauce? As in the condiment?”
“That’s right.” Tilly nods just as Regina rattles her by the arm and begs her to continue.
I do the same, scouring these donations. Most of these seem on the up and up. Money is thrown at museums, other foundations, libraries, schools, and art centers. But about once a month, a donation of exactly ten thousand dollars is sent to Madeline Swanson.
Huh. That’s strange. I mean, if she’s an employee, wouldn’t she be paid through payroll? Or maybe this is the way they did it? But ten thousand dollars a month? If that’s what Wallace was offering Madeline to give away his money, boy, am I in the wrong line of work.
I scroll to the bottom and, sure enough, there’s that half a million dollar donation. It reads, BD Goober, Inc. And it’s dated exactly a week before Madeline was murdered. I bet she was going to get a nice cut out of that, too. You don’t get raised by mobsters without understanding that you get a cut out of every deal.
I wonder what BD stands for?
The door to the office flies open and a harrowing scream ignites as a woman in a flirty pink maid’s outfit belts out an impromptu aria. Honestly, she’s not half bad.
Tilly and Regina hop
