Drawing Close: The Fourth Novel in the Rosemont Series (8 page)

Chapter 16

Frank Haynes slid his Mercedes
sedan into the loading zone outside the rear entrance to Forever Friends. He
needed to quickly review the week’s receipts and approve the payroll records
before heading back to Haynes Enterprises. He’d been behind in his work at both
places ever since his fruitful meeting with Gina Gallagher. Loretta was busy
attending to her sick child, so Haynes had been doing double duty at the
office. As he walked to the back door of Forever Friends, he realized that he’d
long ago abandoned any thought of firing Loretta for her absenteeism. Whether
he was simply accustomed to her or harbored a deeper affection for her, he
couldn’t say—but he didn’t want to work with anyone else. The prospect of
hiring temporary help was unthinkable. Better to do the work himself and await
her return.

Haynes spotted David Wheeler cleaning the kennels
when he walked in. “Hi, David. Walk with me to the office, would you? I’m in a
tearing hurry tonight.”

“Sure,” David said, quickly wiping his hands on a
nearby rag and grabbing a sheaf of papers lying next to his backpack on the
floor.

He genuinely cared for the boy and was delighted
that he was able to give him a job at Forever Friends. The easy friendship
they’d established over their common interest in dogs might be the nearest
thing Haynes would ever get to a father-son relationship. “How are you and
Dodger doing?”

“Great.” David fidgeted with the papers in his
hand.

“That’s good news, son,” Haynes said. He found the
folder that the bookkeeper routinely left for him on the upper-right corner of
her desk and began running his finger across the spreadsheet. He made some marginal
calculations on a scrap of paper and, satisfied, pulled the fountain pen out of
his pocket and signed the series of documents that the bookkeeper had tabbed
for him. He replaced the cap on his pen and was inserting it into his pocket
when he realized David was still standing there, watching him.

“Is there something else?” Haynes asked.

David nodded. “I found some old papers when we
were moving, and I want to show them to you. Maybe see if you know what they
mean.”

Haynes rose and headed down the hall. “Sure, maybe
sometime next week. Sorry, I’m in such a rush now.” Haynes had his hand on the
door handle. “Just remind me, okay?” he said as he sailed out the door, fired
up his Mercedes, and roared off. He never looked back at David, who stood in
the parking lot, shoulders slumped, folding and unfolding the small packet of
papers.

***

“What’s got your goat?” Sam Torres
asked David Wheeler the next morning as they set about building a new garden
gate for Judy Young.

“Nothin’, really,” David drawled.

“Nonsense,” Sam said. “You can’t fool me.” He
glanced at the boy. “You know you can tell me anything.”

David nodded. “I know.” He pulled the papers out
of his back pocket and handed them to Sam.

Sam scanned the top page and glanced at the
others. “What’s all this?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know.”

“Where did you get them?”

“They were hidden behind a baseboard at our old
house. I found them by accident.”

“Did you ask your mom about them?”

David nodded. “She said they were my dad’s”

“Then we need to get these to the police,” Sam
said, aware that this was the last thing David would want to hear.

David shook his head emphatically and snatched the
papers from Sam’s hands. “After what happened to my dad, I’ll never go to the
police.”

“Special Counsel Scanlon, then.”

David Wheeler stared at him with a stony gaze.
“He’s no better.”

“Maggie. Mayor Martin. She’s in the official
channels, and she’ll know how to make sense of these and what to do with them.”

David looked steadily at Sam, then nodded his
assent.

“We’re almost done with this gate. Let’s finish up,
and we’ll go see her. How would that be?”

David released the breath he’d been holding. “That
would be great.”

Chapter 17

John Allen entered Rosemont through
the back door and dropped his keys on the counter. He didn’t mind the
occasional late-night call to attend to a veterinary emergency, but tonight’s
case had been extraordinarily unsettling. A trucker noticed an animal along the
side of the road and stopped to help. The dog had lacerations all over its body
and one eye so badly damaged that John had no choice but to remove it. The poor
creature had probably been used as a “training dog” for a fighting animal. He’d
been able to patch up the injuries on the young dog, so it would survive. But
did any animal really survive this type of cruelty?

John opened the refrigerator but nothing looked
appealing. He slammed the door shut.

“I thought I heard you come in,” Maggie said.

John turned sharply. “What are you doing up? You
were sound asleep when I left.”

Maggie shook her head. “Not really. I’ve been
tossing and turning every night since Sam and David brought me those lists of
numbers. They’re handwritten, John. Meticulously so. And were hidden very
cleverly. The police didn’t find them when they searched the house. They’ve got
to mean something.”

John nodded. “I have to agree. And I also know
that if anyone can figure this out, it’s you.”

Maggie slid her arm around his waist. “I
appreciate the vote of blind confidence, but so far, I’m batting zero.” She
turned to him. “You look exhausted. Tough case?’

John nodded.

“Want to tell me about it?” She began massaging
his shoulders.

“I don’t want to rehash it. Neither of us would
get any sleep. Suffice it to say, we’ve got a terrible problem with animal
abuse in this county.”

“Maybe I could do something to help.”

“You’ve got enough on your plate. I think I’ll
give Frank Haynes a call in the morning. This’ll be right up his alley.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “If you say so. Let’s get
to bed. Roman and Eve are already up there, snoring away.”

***

Maggie checked the time when she
stepped out of the shower. One minute past seven. She scampered to the fluffy
rug in the center of the room. The marble floor was cold under her bare feet,
even in summer. She slipped into her chenille robe and punched Alex Scanlon’s
number into her phone. He answered on the first ring.

“Maggie. What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Sorry to call so early. Did I wake you?’

Alex snorted. “I haven’t slept past six since you
appointed me special counsel. I’ve been at it for hours.”

“Thought so. I need some information from you.”

“Sure—anything.”

“Can you get me a list of all of the bank accounts
that we suspect are involved in the fraud, plus each bank’s routing number, and
the transaction numbers of each wire transfer?”

“That won’t be hard to do. We’ve got all of that
for the money being drawn out of the general fund and the pension plan. It’s
where it goes from there that’s the problem.”

“I understand. When can I get it?”

“I’ll bring it by your office before the end of
the day. Why do you want it?”

“I’ll explain when I see you. I’ll wait in my
office.”

“I’ll text when I’m on my way.”

***

Alex Scanlon walked through the
door of Mayor Margaret Martin’s office shortly after six o’clock that evening
and handed her a spreadsheet containing the information she requested. Maggie
flipped quickly through the four-page document and laid it on her desk.

“Why the urgent need for these account numbers?”

Maggie motioned for him to sit down as she opened
her bottom desk drawer and withdrew lists of handwritten numbers from her purse
and slid them across the desk.

He scanned them, then brought his eyes to hers.
“Where’d you get these?” He listened intently to Maggie’s story and whistled
softly. “This may be the break we need.”

Maggie rose with both sets of papers in hand.
“Let’s see if any of these numbers match the ones on that spreadsheet.” Laying out
the pages on the conference table in the corner of her office, she and Alex sat
to scrutinize the lists.

After several minutes, Alex leaned back in his
chair. The spreadsheet and the lists contained identical numbers.

“Wheeler must have been keeping this as some sort
of insurance,” he said.

Maggie nodded. “If this is really his
handwriting.”

“We’ll need to establish that fact, but it
shouldn’t be hard to do. We can get a handwriting expert.”

“If he were keeping it as some sort of ‘insurance,’
then why didn’t he use it? What was he waiting for?”

“Impossible to say. Maybe he got so much pressure
from the mob that he felt his family wouldn’t be safe if he talked. Maybe he
didn’t trust the Witness Protection Program. Who knows? When someone commits
suicide, they’re not thinking rationally.”

Maggie rose and began to pace. “This still doesn’t
paint the whole picture. It’s simply confirmation of what we already know. We
need to find out where the money went after it was siphoned out of the town’s
accounts and into these offshore banks. Who got it after that?”

Alex slapped the table with both palms. They
turned to each other.

“Do you think there might be other lists hidden at
the Wheeler home?” Maggie asked.

“My thought exactly,” he replied.

“I’ll have another search warrant by tomorrow
morning.”

Maggie put her hand on his arm. “Can you hold off
on that? You know how public that would be. Even if you tried, you couldn’t
keep it a secret for long in this town.” Maggie held his eye. “What if I can
get the Wheelers to allow us to search for additional lists? Would that work?”

“If they’ll cooperate, that would be ideal. But we
can’t run the risk of your tipping them off and their destroying the lists
before we get in there. And it has to happen soon.”

Maggie nodded. “Understood. Our timing may be
perfect. David told me that they’re losing their house to foreclosure and
moving out this weekend.”

“That’s rough. They can’t catch a break, can they?
Where are they going?”

“They plan to move in with her brother, which
isn’t ideal for David, so John is going to offer to rent them his old house.”

Alex arched one brow. “Pretty nice rental, if you
ask me. Can they afford it?”

Maggie smiled. “He’ll make it affordable. I
married a kind man.”

Alex nodded. “Do you know when the foreclosure
sale will be?”

“I had Tim Knudsen find out for me. It’s Monday
morning. Right here on the steps of Town Hall.”

“We need to get in there this weekend. If we
don’t, I’ll have a search warrant ready to serve on the new owner right after
the sale. Investors buy foreclosures to fix and flip, and they get started
almost immediately. We need to go through that house with a fine-toothed comb
before any-one starts tearing it to pieces.”

“I’ll drop by the house to talk to Jackie Wheeler.
I’ll let you know.”

Alex rose and pointed to the purse in Maggie’s
open desk drawer. “Get that thing, and we’re out of here.”

“I’ll be right behind you. I have a few things—”
Maggie began and Alex cut her off.

“Not a chance. I’m walking you out. We’re both
exhausted and need to get home to our significant others while they’re still
speaking to us.”

“When did you become so bossy?” Maggie laughed as
she slung her purse across her shoulder and they headed for the elevator.

Chapter 18

Frank Haynes shifted his weight
from foot to foot as he stood in the taxi queue at JFK International Airport,
his cell phone to his ear. He’d decided to deliver Roger Spenser’s affidavit to
Simon Wilkens in person. The attorney’s reaction to it would tell him volumes
about whether the document would successfully advance his claim to Rosemont. He
wanted to witness that reaction firsthand. But he would have to wait. His
flight to New York City had been delayed in Dayton, and he’d arrived much later
than expected. He’d rescheduled his meeting with Simon Wilkens for the
following afternoon.

The phone at Haynes Enterprises continued to ring
in his ear, but no one picked up. Haynes disconnected before the call went to
voice mail. Where was Loretta Nash?
Maybe she’s making the bank deposit,
he reasoned with himself.
After all, she’s given you no reason not to trust
her.

He replaced his phone in the breast pocket of his
jacket as he moved to the front of the line. A driver signaled to him and
opened the rear passenger door. As Haynes slid into the leather backseat, he
realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He’d indulge himself in a pricey meal
at one of the city’s fine restaurants and check on Haynes Enterprises tomorrow.

***

Loretta hurried up the steps to
Haynes Enterprises and quickly assembled the day’s bank deposit. She had just
locked the door when the phone started ringing. If it were important, they’d
leave a message or call back. She continued on her mission and arrived at the
bank at closing time. She could see the head teller approach the glass entry
door, keys in hand. She gave him her biggest smile.

The teller hesitated, then swung the door open and
held it for her. “Cutting it pretty close today, aren’t we?” he said.

“My daughter’s been sick, and I’ve gotten behind,”
she said as she hurried past him.

“Frank Haynes could make the deposit,” he observed
as he ushered her to his teller station. She began unbundling the deposit.

“He’s out of town and left me in charge,” she
replied. “I want to do a really good job. Thank you for waiting for me,” she
said, glancing behind him at the clock on the wall that displayed the time,
five minutes after five. She smiled at him again.

The teller looked down quickly. “That’s okay,” he
said. “We can do that for our favorite customers.”

***

“She’s out like a light,” Mrs.
Walters said quietly as she opened the door later that night and led Loretta to
the sleeping child.

Loretta scooped up Nicole and carried her to the
car. The sitter helped nestle Nicole into her booster seat. “I’m always amazed
at how soundly children can sleep,” she said. “Envious, actually.”

“That’s for sure,” Loretta agreed. “I’ll see you
in the morning.”

“Why don’t you sleep in a bit?” she suggested.

“Nope. Tomorrow will be a busy day. I may even try
to get in early.”

Fifteen minutes later, Loretta laid Nicole gently
into bed and curled up next to her. She placed her hand on her daughter’s
forehead. Her skin felt cool. Loretta drifted off to sleep, listening to the
peaceful rhythm of her daughter’s breathing.