When All The Girls Have Gone(47)

"How?"

"In my experience administrative assistants usually know more about their bosses' private lives than the bosses' spouses and lovers do."





CHAPTER 59




"Look, I'm still in shock, okay?" Drew Irby ran his well-groomed fingers through his highlighted hair. "My boss has been murdered and I'm out of a job. I should be working on my résumé, not talking to you two."

The three of them were sitting in a coffee shop a block from the tower where Madison Benson's office was located. Charlotte had ordered a decaf latte. The last thing her nerves needed was a heavy dose of caffeine. She was certain that time was running out for Jocelyn.

She had slept very little during the night, but she was sure that Max had gotten even less sleep. Each time she'd surfaced from a restless anxiety dream she had found herself alone in the bed. He had spent much of the night in front of his laptop, trying to find as much information as possible about Madison Benson's financial affairs.

But his reaction to the stress of the situation was much different from hers. He was energized and focused. He was not exactly enjoying himself, she decided-not in the usual sense of the word-but he was definitely exhilarated by the hunt. This was what he was born to do, she thought; what he needed to do.

It had been his idea to corner Madison's administrative assistant first thing that morning. They had been waiting for him in the lobby of the office tower when he had arrived to clean out his desk. Irby had been wary at first, but when Max had removed a few bills from his wallet, Drew had agreed to talk to them over coffee.

"Take it easy," Max said. "We just want to ask you a few questions about Madison Benson."

Charlotte tried to come up with a reassuring smile. "It's very important, Drew. My stepsister has gone missing and I think Madison might have had some information. She sent a text shortly before she was killed saying she wanted to talk to Max and me. But by the time we got there, she was dead."

Drew frowned. "Are you saying there's a connection? I heard that it looked like Ms. Benson was the victim of a home invasion robbery."

"She opened the door to her killer," Max said. "But that's all we can be sure of at the moment. Given the fact that two members of the investment club are now dead, one is in intensive care and two are missing, we think the home invasion story is wrong. We think this may have something to do with the investment club. We want to ask you a few questions about it."

Drew grimaced. "I don't see how I can help you. The thing is, Ms. Benson never talked much about the club. Once in a while she mentioned that she was going to have drinks with the other members, but that was about it."   





 

Charlotte leaned forward. "Madison founded the club. She handpicked the other members from among the women who took an interest in the shelter she helped support. Do you know how she went about choosing certain members?"

Drew shrugged. "I heard her say that each member of the club brought a specific skill set to the table. That's all I can tell you."

"Yet in spite of those skill sets, the club doesn't seem to have been highly profitable," Max said. "Everyone made a little money from time to time, but there were no major hits-not until the Keyworth buyout popped up."

Drew put his latte down with both hands and fixed Max with a grim expression. "I'm not so sure about that."

"About the buyout?" Max asked.

"No, about there being no other profitable investments."

Charlotte took a quick breath. "What do you mean?"

Drew hesitated and then exhaled a long, deep sigh. "I guess I don't owe the boss any more confidentiality. Look, I don't know a lot about the investment club, but I can tell you that Ms. Benson always insisted on handling the club's spreadsheets personally. A couple of times I offered to help with the updating and she always refused. She said she liked to keep the club's records completely separate from those of her regular clients."

"So?" Max prompted.

Drew's jaw firmed. "She was sort of secretive about the investment club records, so I admit I got a little curious. You work with someone long enough, you get to know their ways. Sometimes when she was out of the office I took a closer look at her files. I can tell you that she often transferred some significant sums of money out of the club's brokerage account into a numbered account. At first I assumed that she was moving the club's profits offshore to avoid taxes. She wouldn't be the first investor to help her clients shield money in an offshore account. But sometimes I wondered . . ."

"Wondered what?" Charlotte asked.

Drew looked at her. "Sometimes I wondered if the other club members knew about that numbered account. I can tell you that there is a lot of money sitting in it."

Charlotte looked at Max. She shook her head.

"Before you ask," she said, "I'm quite sure Jocelyn didn't know anything about excess club profits being funneled into an offshore account."

"Sounds like Madison Benson was routinely skimming off profits from the investment club," Max said.

Drew cleared his throat. "For what it's worth, I don't think those were the only profits she was transferring offshore. Lately I've begun to wonder if she was scamming her regular clients, as well. In fact, I was getting so nervous I was thinking about handing in my resignation even though it was the best-paying job I'd ever had."

"Now that I know where to look, it shouldn't be hard for the police to figure out if she was scamming her accounts," Max said. "But that's not important to me, not yet, at any rate. What I really want to know is, was Benson seeing anyone?"

Drew looked surprised. Then he shrugged. "Yes. But she was keeping it off the radar. I figured the guy was probably married."

"Was it serious?" Max asked.

Drew snorted softly. "I'll say. She went to Maui for a few days about six weeks ago."

"With the man she was seeing?" Charlotte asked.

"She traveled alone," Drew said. "But I'm pretty sure he was there at the same time."

"What makes you so certain?" Max asked.

"You had to know Ms. Benson. She almost never took time off. She was a confirmed workaholic. She loved her business. Occasionally she did spa weekends, but while I was with her she went to Hawaii only that one time. She wasn't even there a full week."

"The trip surprised you?" Max said.

"Are you kidding? She took off for the islands just as the Keyworth deal started to come together. I couldn't believe it. The situation was very delicate. A couple of her biggest clients had some serious issues at the time, too. It wasn't like Ms. Benson to leave town when she had fires to put out. All I can say is that she must have really had a thing for the guy."





CHAPTER 60




"Ethel, I realize you want to go for a more dramatic effect with your memoir," Charlotte said.

"It's what they call high-concept," Ethel explained.

"I understand," Charlotte continued. "But as we discussed last time, you are writing your personal history-not fiction. Your children and your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren will want to know that they are reading the truth about their ancestors."   





 

It was late morning. Ethel Deeping had waylaid Charlotte in the hallway to argue her case for the shocking ending to the chapter on her marriage.

"Trust me, my kids will get plenty of truth," Ethel said.

"Yes, but if they see one very dramatic element in your memoir that they know isn't true, they'll be inclined to doubt all of your story-including the really thrilling parts such as your work as a military nurse. You saved lives in war zones. You were a true heroine. You don't want to give your descendants any reason to doubt those facts, do you?"

"There's plenty of ways they can verify my military service."

"Yes, but will they even bother to do that if they doubt some of the other details? I'm afraid that if they read that you killed your husband, they'll conclude that the entire memoir is fiction."

Ethel looked as if she was prepared to argue further, but Charlotte's phone pinged. She looked down at the screen. The number was unfamiliar, but the photo and first line of the text turned her blood to ice.


If you want to see her alive, come outside. Alone. Bring your phone. Tell no one. Gray car parked on the street out front. You've got two minutes.

"Are you okay?" Ethel asked in sudden concern. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

Charlotte turned off her phone. For a moment she stared at Ethel, trying to think clearly. She grabbed the notebook and pen that Ethel carried in the basket of her walker and wrote Max's number down on a page in the notebook.

"Something very bad is happening, Ethel," she said. "Please call that number and tell Max Cutler that someone came to pick me up. Tell him that person says he's taking me to see my stepsister. Tell him he sent a picture of Jocelyn."

"Sure, I'll tell him. But you don't look good, dear."

"I don't feel good, either." Charlotte paused at the door, trying to think. "Would you do me another favor?"

"Of course."

"The person who is picking me up is driving a gray car that is parked in front of this building. Before you call Max Cutler, I would really appreciate it if you would use your cell phone camera to take as many pictures of me getting into the car as you can. Try for a photo of the license plate. But whatever you do, don't go outside. Take the shots through the lobby window. Understood? Promise me you won't let the driver of the car see you."