Part 18 (2/2)
”So, ahhh, Jen, how can I help?”
She didn't dive right in. ”You were in the army for a while, weren't you?”
”Yes, that's where I learned accounting.” Not a word of a lie, but not the whole truth at all. I hated being evasive, but there were things I couldn't talk about. If she picked up on it, she didn't show it.
”Some time in the police as well.” That was a statement rather than a question, and she could have read that off the company website, so I just gave a little hum of confirmation. My time in the police included more things I couldn't talk about. If she was one of those clients who needed a comprehensive review of my past, I was going to have to turn this one down, but it seemed she'd just been settling herself down.
”You've been recommended to me.” She saw the question forming on my lips and held her hand up to stop me. ”I promised them I wouldn't tell you who it was and I take my word very seriously.” Her eyes got cooler and held mine. ”I expect the same level of discretion from you. I need your word that anything I say from now on is held in absolute confidence. If a situation arises like the one with Campbell's call in your office, you will find a way around it without revealing anything about me or my case to anyone else, or we can't do business.”
I don't have a problem with people who state their requirements clearly, so that didn't raise any hackles. It startled me a bit that she had gone from Ms. Nice to the ice queen businesswoman in the s.p.a.ce of a couple of sentences. It gave me some appreciation for her reputation as a tough person in the commercial world. From what I could recall, she'd inherited a small restaurant business in a mess of family shares and bad deals. She'd turned it around, paid the rest of the family off, two ex-husbands included, and made it the successful company that she owned today. I was beginning to see how.
”Agreed.” I nodded and took a sip of my coffee. ”You have my word.”
”Good.” The eyes warmed up a touch. She sat forward. I know all the body language pop psychology, but that doesn't mean I don't go along. I sat forward too, and she began to talk quietly and intensely.
”I believe my company is under attack. I don't mean in the normal commercial sense, but a systematic, criminal attack intended to disrupt my business to the point it collapses or my only viable choice is to sell. But I can't prove it.”
She paused to see if I had any comment, but I just sat and waited for her to continue.
”This is the worst possible time for this to happen. You may know, my new division, Kingslund Media, has been formed from the purchase of an existing PR business, Frankell-Maines?”
I nodded; that much I knew from the papers.
She continued. ”The funding came through the banks, and it's taking a lot of effort to keep it going and repay the loans while it gets in a position to maintain itself. In the meantime, my capital reserve is earmarked for a takeover bid that I'm preparing. Any damage to either operation could put the whole company in jeopardy. Just a rumor of a financial problem could start the dominos falling in this environment. I can't walk into Bell and Hewitt and get a bunch of their agents rooting through my business because everyone would know there's something up. Even worse, there might be a leak about the funding or the takeover.”
I nodded. I could see the problem. Bell and Hewitt were the big downtown investigation firm, but I always got the feeling that companies used them for show rather than results. Meow.
”Okay,” I said. ”I see why you might need a less well-known investigator, and one with some financial expertise. Is that why you were advised to come see me?”
”No.” There was still a wariness in her eyes when I mentioned the recommendation. It made me very interested in where this story was leading. She continued, ”I'll get to that in a moment. First, I need to say that the level of attacks has been escalating. In the beginning it was just minor financial irregularities. If I'm right, it's now completely out of hand. I'm worried that a key employee may have been abducted. I'm sure that some staff who've just left, have done so because they've been threatened. I need this stopped now.”
”Jen, I understand the secrecy issues, but if I'm working on your case and I discover a felony, such as abduction, we will need to talk to the police.” I had to draw that line for her. I needed the business, but not at the expense of giving Morales an excuse to come after me.
She looked a bit unhappy about it, but nodded. My respect for her went up a notch. Faced with compromising her business operation or helping an employee, she'd gone for the employee.
”Also, I'm not the police.” I tapped the table to make my point. ”I can discover things for you, and maybe with that knowledge you can prevent anything further from happening. But if someone needs 'stopping,' then it's back to the police again. They have the big guys in uniforms with all the guns and helmets and flak jackets.”
She nodded again.
She seemed reluctant to go on with her brief, so I prodded her. ”We can go into more detail on those things, and if we proceed, I'll draw up a set of tasks against them, but I need to hear the rest first.”
Her mouth became set, as if she were unsure how I would react. Her weight s.h.i.+fted backwards. She really wasn't happy about this part.
”I have a great piece of land outside of town, out on US 285. It's called Silver Hills. I have planning permission for a resort and golf course, but I'm not building yet. It's supposed to be getting a bit of preparatory landscaping work. I've had a couple of work crews...” she stumbled a bit, broke off eye contact and then finished, ”well, scared off.”
I raised my eyebrows questioningly. ”Scared off? How? Guys with guns or telephone threats of some kind?”
It took a while for her to respond. ”No, something completely different. Wolves, pawprints all over the site, things going missing. The site getting torn up overnight. Damage to equipment.”
I blew out a breath. ”Well, I can't believe we've got wolves in this part of the Rockies, not this close to Denver. Wild animals, okay, maybe a bear. More likely a bunch of bored teens walking their dogs and stealing stuff. Can I be clear-I got specially recommended because something or someone like this scared your work crews?” I sat all the way back, folded my arms and just watched her. There was obviously something about this she wasn't telling me.
”Yes,” she said. ”I spoke to a friend about this, one with some experience in these kinds of things, and the recommendation came back that, if it involved something 'weird,' then you're the person.”
This didn't sound good to me. I wanted to keep the number of people who know anything about me and weird things to an absolute minimum. In my experience, weird is dangerous. I already spent enough time looking over my shoulder. But at the same time, I was intrigued and, of course, I had to think about my bank balance.
”Any weird stuff that might have happened to me doesn't make me an expert,” I said cautiously.
”Do you know someone who is?” Her eyes were locked back on me and the ice queen was showing through again.
I shook my head. ”No.”
”Is that 'no' you don't know anyone better suited, or 'no' you won't take the case?”
I needed the business. I held up a placating hand. ”How about this-I'll split the case into three and do some checking on each. The three are staff, financial and your resort at Silver Hills. I'll report to you if I discover anything significant, or at the end of the day, regardless. If I can't find anything on any one of the cases, I'll say so and you'll be able to get someone else in for that part if you want. If I do find proof of a felony, we go to the police. In between, we just proceed as seems fit.”
”Done,” she said quickly. There was a note of relief in her voice. I hadn't done anything yet, but it was something I'd seen before, as if just talking to someone else had s.h.i.+fted part of the burden.
”Can I see the contract, please?” she asked.
I pa.s.sed the standard duplicate forms across and sipped my cooling coffee as she bent her head over them. She noted some stuff on her smartphone as she went. She also made some changes, initialing them before moving on. I huffed quietly. I'd have to take a look at those and I hated reading legal forms.
There was a bit of turnover in Papa Dee's clientele. A couple walked out, kissed and went to separate cars. A guy whose face made me think of an angry rabbit came over and sat one table away from us. Now, there's a convention that most people stick to in half-empty coffee shops. You try to s.p.a.ce yourself out, you don't take a table right next to someone else. He flicked up his laptop screen and dived in. A nerd. Low level of social skills. Probably only came in for the free internet. I sighed. Nothing that set my alarms off, but we'd have to talk quietly if there was more to say.
The waiter wandered over with a coffee refill for us. He had a bit of a swagger and strong, square hands. I imagined those hands gently ma.s.saging my back and I s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably in my seat. A quick peek confirmed he had thick, dark hair that I could almost feel my fingers running though. And a nice smile. I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. Not going to happen. Not allowed. Rules.
Back in the real world, Jen had signed the contracts and pushed them back at me. I hoped she hadn't spotted me eyeing the waiter. Or my reaction afterwards.
I checked her amendments. They were perfectly fair. She had emphasized the confidentiality aspects, corrected a typo that I'd kept meaning to correct, and added nothing that made me unhappy. I matched her initials, signed both copies and pa.s.sed one back to her.
She fiddled with her smartphone and looked up.
”Good. Thank you. I've transferred five thousand into your bank account to cover preliminary costs. Bank details as in the agreement.” She made a wry face. ”Or at least, the money is wherever it goes to when it's left my account and isn't yet in yours.”
I kept my face impa.s.sive and managed not to punch the air. Five thousand would take care of the bills due next week and then some.
”Thanks,” I said blandly. ”My reports will detail costs.”
We exchanged cell numbers and email addresses, and she handed a USB drive across to me. ”This contains files of my internal accounts with my a.n.a.lysis, a list of employees who've left recently, with contact details, and the missing man I'm especially worried about, Troy Huber. And security footage from Silver Hills.”
She bit her lip and looked down at the table. ”Amber, I know I sound evasive about the problem at the resort. Please, just have a look at the clip before you make your mind up. You'll understand.”
As I slipped the drive into my pocket, she also handed me a photo and a set of keys. ”That's Troy and these are for his apartment down in LoDo. The address is on the label.”
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