The Missing Dough(26)

“What can you tell me about Bernie?”

“This one’s going to be a little harder,” he said. “There’s no Facebook page, and it looks like old Bernie likes to keep his secrets.”

“It’s okay if you can’t find anything,” I said.

“Hey, slow down, Boss. I didn’t say that I couldn’t do it. It’s just going to take a minute or two longer, that’s all.” As he typed more on his keyboard, he began to read the information out loud as he found it. Josh was so involved in what he was doing that I doubted he even realized that he was doing it. “He owns at least two businesses. There’s no love life to speak of that I can see. Okay, here’s something new. He just shut one of his businesses down completely.”

“Can you tell me more about that one?”

“You’ve got it.” Twenty seconds later he said, “It was called Orion Enterprises. They speculated in land development, but it looks like they never were very successful at it. It doesn’t surprise me. In my management class, the prof told us that ninety percent of all small businesses fail in the first year. This one looked doomed from the start.”

“How can you possibly know that?” I asked, marveling at just how much information was out there about all of us if you had a wizard like Josh searching. Was there any real privacy anymore?

“A quick glance at the company info practically shouts it.”

“Do you know who else might have been involved with the organization?”

“Sure. There’s a list right here. Besides Bernie, there were two other partners. One was Samantha Stout, and the other was Grant Whitmore. Hey, he’s the guy that got murdered last night! How’s Maddy taking it?”

“She’d be better if folks didn’t suspect Bob was behind the killing,” I said.

“Yeah, that really bites. Anyway, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“One more thing. Can you give me addresses and any other viable telephone numbers you can find for Bernie Maine and Samantha Stout?”

“Will do.” Less than a minute later I disconnected the call, with the requested information scribbled down on an old menu.

“Wow, that was quite a conversation you just had,” Maddy said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have given in so easily. I had time to go through everything else while you were chatting with Josh. What all did he say?”

After I brought her up to date on our conversation, I asked Maddy, “What did you uncover?”

“Not much,” she admitted. “Did you say that woman investor’s name was Samantha Stout, Eleanor?”

“I did.”

“I saw her name somewhere else this morning,” Maddy said.

“Do you remember where?”

She searched through one of the piles and pulled out a business card with a musical note on it. “Here it is. Southern Sky is the name of the group last night. Grant had one of their cards in his pocket. The members are listed on the bottom edge, and one of them is the lady in question. Funny, but so is one of the guys.”

“He’s named Samantha Stout, too?”

“Don’t be silly. Kenny Stout is listed, though, so I’m betting that he’s either her brother or her husband.”

“Can I see that?” I asked.

Maddy handed it over, and I flipped to the back. There was nothing but a heart drawn there. That had to mean that Grant was not only an investor with her but probably something else, as well. “I know that Grant cheated on you, but would he do it with a married woman?”

“I don’t think he ever let the marital status of anyone involved bother him,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just trying to figure something out here. I need to call Josh back.”

“Wow, he’s earning his pay today, isn’t he?” Maddy asked.

“I’ll let him go home early tonight,” I said as I dialed his number.

“Eleanor, if you’re going to keep waking me up, I might as well come in and work,” he said with a laugh when he answered.

“This will just take a second. I need to know if Samantha Stout and Kenny Stout are married to each other, or if they’re just related in some other way.”

“That I can do,” he said. After a short pause, he said, “They were married. I guess technically they still are, since they have to wait another few months before the decree is final. The cause was filed as irreconcilable differences, whatever that means these days. Is there anything else I can do?”

“No, that’s perfect. Go back to sleep.”

“I would if I could, but I have a class at noon, so I might as well go ahead and get up now.”