Софи Райан - No Escape Claws

“There isn’t anything to put him in the middle of,” I said. Liz’s expression was troubled. “Or is there something you aren’t telling me?”

For a moment she didn’t say anything, then she sighed softly. “I need you to give me your word you won’t tell anyone, not John, not Isabel and for now, not Michelle.”

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach but I nodded. “I promise.” I knew if I didn’t, Liz wouldn’t tell me anything.

“I think there’s money missing from the foundation itself. Going back years.”

“How many years?”

She rubbed the space between her eyebrows with two fingers. “Maybe as far back as Rob Andrews’s time.”

Now my stomach felt like it was doing somersaults. John Scott, just like his mentor, Bill Kiley, had been a history professor, but John’s area of expertise was American business, specifically the private financial system and its management. His undergrad degree was in business, not history. That was why Liz had wanted him to join the board of the Emmerson Foundation in the first place.

“I’ve known John for a long time. He’s not a thief. He’s a man of integrity. In fact, I’ll stake my own integrity on that. I don’t want to open a can of worms and dump the mess in his lap.”

It was a metaphor that sounded more like it should have come from Rose, but I knew what she meant.

“Do you think this could be connected to Michelle’s father?” I asked.

“Seems like too much of a coincidence not to be,” Liz said.

I thought back to my earlier conversation about co-incidences with Mr. P. “More proof that Rob was framed then.”

Liz nodded. “I think it’s a possibility. I may as well tell you that Channing has found a good forensic accountant who is going over years of the books. It’s going to take time but I hope that will get us some answers.” She narrowed her gaze at me. “And don’t go getting ideas, missy. This is business only.”

Channing Caulfield, who on occasion Charlotte would refer to by his childhood name of Chucky, just to tease Liz, had carried a torch for Liz for a long time and he’d helped with foundation business for years. The former bank manager still did some consulting for an investment firm and had also helped out on a couple of the Angels’ recent cases. Liz insisted she had no romantic interest whatsoever in the man but I suspected she liked him a little more than she was admitting. Since she’d been butting into my love life for years I got a kick out of teasing her about Channing. As I’d pointed out to her, lots of women would consider him a catch. He had lots of hair and, as far as I could tell, all of his original teeth.

“So let’s just keep this possible missing money between us—you, me and Channing—for now,” I said. “The whole idea of a book about the foundation is a good cover. We can do more digging.”

Liz nodded. “There were five other people on the board. Talmadge Dixon is dead but the others are around and more or less in their right minds. And I should get in touch with Marie.”

“Who’s Marie?” I asked.

“Marie Heard. She was Wilson’s assistant for years. She took notes at all the meetings and I’m pretty sure she helped Rob with camp business on occasion. Marie started at the foundation when my grandfather was still there—straight out of secretarial school, as they called it back then. She probably knew better than anyone how things worked.”

“We should talk to her.” I pulled out my phone to see if I could find a number for the woman.

Liz got to her feet and carried her plate and cup over to the sink. “Marie retired and moved to Arizona. I asked Wilson, but he lost touch with her. I have no idea how to track her down.”

“I do,” I said. “Ask Mr. P. to look for her under the guise of wanting to interview her for the book project.”

“That’s a good idea,” she said. “And I’m going to tell people that you’re helping me with this whole thing.” She made a face. “I hate lying but for now I need to.”

I got up and took my own dishes over to the counter. “By the time we’re done we’re probably going to have a lot of stories and information about the Emmerson Foundation. I think you should consider a book.” I smiled at her. “Then, technically, none of what we’ve been saying actually would be a lie.”

“I like the way you think,” Liz said, giving me a big smile in return.

I wasn’t 100 percent sure I should be flattered by her vote of confidence.

Chapter 7

I got home to find Elvis snoozing on top of his cat tower. He opened one green eye, looked at me and then closed it again. I’d noticed lights on upstairs in Gram’s place. I decided to call her and see if she was busy. I needed to ask her about the judge, and if John was home I could start sounding him out about the foundation.

“Hi, Gram,” I said when she answered. “Would you and John like some company?”

“John isn’t here,” she said. “But Rose is. She made cookies. I’m being her guinea pig. Why don’t you join us?”

“I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

“We’re debating the merits of raspberry jelly versus strawberry-rhubarb jam. We could use another opinion.”

“I’m on my way,” I said. I decided I could wear my slippers up to Gram’s. I grabbed my keys and stopped to give Elvis a scratch. “I’m going upstairs for a while,” I told him. “Are you coming?”

He lifted his head, seemed to consider the question for a moment, then yawned and rolled over onto his back.

I knocked on Gram’s door and then went in. Gram and Rose were in the living room. Gram got to her feet and wrapped me in a hug. “Hello, sweetie,” she said.

I was so glad she was finally home. I’d missed her hugs, her smile, the way she thought everything Liam and I did was fantastic.

“You missed your brother,” she said as I took a seat on the couch. “He had supper with us.”

“Did he say how the plans for the demolition work along the harbor front are going?”

“Slower than he’d like. But he did say he’s going to be able to salvage more than he expected.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Rose said. “I know most of those buildings that are coming down for the development can’t realistically be saved and I’m not one of those old fuddy-duddies who’s against any sort of change, but I am glad some things are going to be salvaged. I’d hate to see everything from North Harbor’s history just wiped out.”

“Me, too,” I said. “I know Liam’s managed to save a couple of fireplace mantels that are slated for the new hotel.” I looked at the coffee table between us. It held three small plates, each with a couple of cookies on them. “So these are the cookies you made?” I asked.

Rose nodded. “There are three batches. I couldn’t decide which jam to use, among other things.”

“I already told you, use the raspberry jelly,” Gram said. “I know there were raspberry canes in the Halloran’s back garden.”

“There were raspberry canes in the back garden of all the houses on that street back in the day, Isabel,” Rose said. She pushed a plate at me. “Try one of these.”

I picked up the small jam-filled cookie and took a bite. It was good. Better than anything I could make. “That’s good,” I said.

“But what’s missing?” Rose asked.

I frowned at her. “I didn’t say there was anything missing.”

“But you’re still holding half a cookie and you didn’t swoon the way you do when you have one of my chocolate chip cookies.”

“I don’t swoon when I have chocolate chip cookies,” I said a little defensively.

“Yes, you do, dear,” Rose said as though there was no point in discussing her assertion. “You take a bite and then you make a little groaning sound.”