“Yeah, this is Elk Park Prep, we’re closed now,” said Macguire’s voice.
“Macguire? Is that you or a recording?”
“Hi, Goldy, yeah, you’re speaking to me live. I don’t like answering the phone here.” He sighed extravagantly. “But… I guess even a private eye has to do his own phone work.”
I let this pass. “I just wanted to let you know I can do the bank gig this morning myself, and then I’m doing that doggone taste-test at Sam’s Soups, for Tony Royce, before he and Marla go on their fishing trip. I just didn’t know what your plans were ?”
“Oh, I have lots of plans. But don’t you even want to know what I’ve turned up? In my investigations?” Before I could answer, he rushed on with: “Victoria Lear was starting paperwork for the Securities and Exchange Commission, stuff you have to do before you have an initial public offering of stock. They call that an IPO. You see, for the Eurydice Mine, the three and a half million Prospect raised was called a private placement. Thirty-five investors had put up a hundred thou each. Over the next year, the Prospect partners were going to hire a mining company to bring the mine into production, at the same time they worked on the IPO. But the SEC demands all kinds of stuff for an lPO, and that’s where Victoria hit a snag. Right before she croaked. Anyway, that’s all Bitsy could get out of the secretary, who hasn’t worked there very long. The secretary even said that Mr. Lipscomb had come in and taken all of Victoria’s files on the Eurydice Mine out of her office right after the accident.”
“Good Lord.”
“Hey, do I do my job, or what? The secretary got nervous talking about Lear there in the office. She said she and Bitsy should go out for lunch. Should I tell Bitsy to keep poking around? Go have lunch with this woman?”
Jake began barking furiously at the garbage man, even though he was at least six houses away. I told Macguire yes, he was fabulous and yes, Bitsy should go out for lunch with Lear’s secretary, and continue to poke around as much as possible without arousing suspicion. I signed off and called Jake inside. As the hound trotted toward me with a distinctly guilty air, I hugged myself against the chill wind and considered. So Victoria Lear was working on assembling paperwork for the SEC. Not that that was related to her death, but one had to wonder. What kind of paperwork was required for an IPO? I settled Jake in Arch’s room, where he no doubt jumped on the bed the instant I closed the door, then returned to the kitchen to finish the cooking for the bank affair. For the muffins, I whirled blackened bananas in my blender until they were dense and smooth, measured whole pecan halves into the flour mixture, and began to spoon the thick batter into paper cups.
The fragrant hot cherry cake emerged from my oven puffed, golden brown, and speckled with the dark berries. I slipped the tin of banana muffins in, closed the oven door, and took two dozen poppy seed muffins out of the freezer. Then I sliced and skewered the fruit, made a batch of Scottish scones on Tom’s oversize griddle, and donned a fresh chef’s jacket. Within forty-five minutes I had the fruit, muffins, scones, and cake packed, and I headed purposefully toward the bank.
“Oh, Goldy!” cried Eileen with her usual melodrama when I carried my lusciously scented goodies past her office. She jumped up to greet me. Eileen engaged in an aerobic and muscle-conditioning program that would put Arnold Schwarzenegger to shame. She also visited with bank clients while working with big free weights; she claimed to be a living symbol of the bank’s strength. Whatever works. “I’m so glad you’re here’” she exclaimed. Her blue eyes shone beneath black lashes, and her long black hair was tightly woven in a French braid. She wore a pink silk shirt that slid flatteringly over her sinewy shoulders. A short black skirt hugged powerful hips. I didn’t know how strong the bank was, but I’d lay money on Eileen. “We’re in some kind of mess, I can tell you that,” she continued. “Thanks in no small part to Prospect Financial Partners. Creeps!”
“Well, let’s hear all about it,” I said as we headed into the empty conference room. I uncovered the first tray and offered it to her. “Have something to eat. Food heals all messes.”
Eileen plucked a banana muffin from the platter. “Lowfat?”
I nodded. “Even lower if you don’t count the pecans”
She shrugged and bit greedily into the muffin. “Mm-mm, rum. First thing I’ve had to eat today.”
“What’s the problem with Prospect Financial Partners?” I asked casually. “They don’t use Bank of Aspen Meadow, do they?”
“No, but our merger with First of the Rockies becomes final today. A whole bunch of our account numbers are being changed to avoid duplication. Customers who didn’t order checks are coming in totally irate. Not to mention the confusion with the doggone ATM cards. And of course I’m on the phone every other minute about this Lipscomb disappearance.” She put the muffin down and looked wistfully out the window. “I knew Dottie Quentin, the teller Albert Lipscomb ran off with. She’s probably on her way to Cozumel right now.” She sighed and nibbled more muffin. “Dottie was looking for a guy like Albert. She even had a copy of that infernal book, How to Meet and, Marry a Millionaire. In this case, he’s worth a tad more than a million,” she concluded darkly.
“I know, I heard,” I said sympathetically. “A three-and-a-half millionaire. Does the bank stand to lose money?”
“Oh, you heard about the amount. It’s supposed to be so hush-hush. No, the bank didn’t do anything wrong. We followed standard procedures. How were we to know the guy was stealing money? Besides, Prospect had the cash in the account, for a change. But I am worried about Dottie.” To console herself she sliced a thick wedge of coffee cake.
Prospect had the money, for a change? Hmm. Two employees came in and started to moan to Eileen about the new ATM cards; I busied myself slicing the rest of the cherry cake.
When the employees left and Eileen again assumed a morose expression, I ventured over with the muffin tray. “How old was that bank teller-did you say her name was Dottie Quentin?”
“Twenty-four. Dottie was my protege during an exchange program between the branches. That dumb girl, I swear. I just wish I could talk to her.”
I nodded sympathetically. “Albert wasn’t that attractive, and he certainly didn’t impress me as the kind of guy who could make love to you with words. Did he impress you that way?”
“Oh, no.” She may have been in the middle of a bank merger crisis, and her protege may have run off with a rich embezzler, but Eileen’s dark-lashed blue eyes, which she tried to keep downcast, gleamed with triumph. Maybe she wasn’t such a good actress after all.
“There’s nobody here,” I ventured, always one to take advantage of an opportunity for further sleuthing. “Want to sit down and visit for a little bit?” She nodded, and I poured two cups of coffee. “What I wonder,” I said carefully, “is why he did it. Lipscomb, I mean. Three and a half million shouldn’t be that much to a big money guy, should it?”
“It is if it’s all you’ve got in the account,” Eileen replied slyly. “Besides, maybe Albert wasn’t motivated so much by money. Maybe what he really wanted was to get back at Tony Royce for something.”
“Revenge? But get back at him for what?” I asked innocently.
She shrugged. “What few people know is that that mine was Tony’s baby as much as it was Albert’s. Albert usually analyzed their investments, while Tony brought in the clients. That’s how they cleaned up on Medigen. But Albert inherited the mine, so he was the official promoter looking for cash investors. Tony was desperate to analyze his own project. He told me so himself First he was going to score with Albert’s mine, then he’d move on to regional restaurants.” She waved her hand dismissively. “But first, Prospect would have to prove Eurydice still had gold; second, go public with their little enterprise; and third, make a bundle. Maybe things went sour. Maybe Albert decided to clean out their partnership account and leave Tony…” ? she smiled ? “high and dry.”
“But… what could possibly have gone sour, Eileen? I mean, Marla just lost her temper over something she didn’t understand in the assay report. My understanding is that you do lots and lots of assays to be sure a mine has gold or silver or whatever it is you’re looking for. Surely one bad assay wouldn’t be enough to ruin the whole project?”
She shrugged again. “Who knows? Because they’re not going to be doing any more exploration up there for a while. Not without money. Albert Lipscomb certainly saw to that,” she added maliciously.
I smiled at her and sipped coffee. “Clearly that doesn’t cause you any pain. You must not be a Prospect client.”
“I would never invest in one of their ventures.” Her voice had turned back to vinegar. “God forbid.”
“How come?”
Three employees appeared at the door. “It’s not something I can talk about,” Eileen replied curtly, and moved off to greet her workers. I got to my feet and offered fruit, coffee, and baked goods to the new arrivals. They dug in happily. When they left twenty minutes later, fed and content, Eileen lingered to pour herself some more
