“I can’t be, not really.” How could she explain that she was worried more about him than Noelle? “I don't want her to mess up things with you.”
The smile she disliked glinted. “Fat chance. You let me worry about Noelle. I'll take you out to eat. We'll leave her here.”
She agreed because she was too much in love not to.
Something had to be done about that cynical smile, though. It didn't fit his character at all.
Not until he had gone did the anomaly strike her.
That airplane itinerary hadn't been there by the phone when she’d cleaned Sunday. Why was Noelle calling Sonny's office when Sonny had been dead since last Monday?
Going back to Noelle’s itinerary, Amanda picked it up.
Atlanta to Las Vegas last Sunday. On Monday morning, a red-eye flight from Las Vegas back to Atlanta. Finally, Atlanta to Cancun Tuesday morning.
She frowned.
Noelle’s time in Las Vegas had almost overlapped her and Cal’s visit. While she and Cal had been asleep in the Hilton that afternoon, thinking Noelle was there, Noelle had already arrived in Atlanta. The next day, she’d turned around and left for Cancun.
Now Cal said she was in Las Vegas again.
What did Noelle think she was doing?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Using one of the company jets, Robert had taken the Virginia investors to the McIntyre resort near Orlando for the day.
His absence left Cal and Claire free to closet themselves with the controller and go over the books. Claire understood that the employees' bonus account had never been officially approved, but she didn't understand what the figures meant.
After several hours of tracing back entries, Cal did.
“Robert's been juggling funds,” he explained in the privacy of his office where he and Claire had retreated.
“Robert?” Her blank face said she couldn't take it in.
“Uh huh.” Over three million dollars paid out for supposed bonuses through an unauthorized account accessible to Robert Winslow and no one else.
And then put back.
“I can't believe it.”
“He's been shuffling money for years. Looks like he used the money to cover overrun costs for this building, but I can't tell for sure at this point. We need an audit.”
The money from the sale of Cal's diamonds may have covered the shortage, but the trail remained and could be followed once the auditors knew what to look for.
Claire got up to pace. In her simple knit dress, she looked more like a distraught housewife than a capable businesswoman. “You don't think there's a mistake? Robert's too ethical to do that kind of thing.”
“A reputation for being ethical makes it easier to get away with
that kind of thing
. A lot of people felt in the beginning this building would cost more than estimated. I imagine Robert wouldn't want to botch his first big project without Mother. It was probably very tempting to cover up fiscal miscalculations.”
Claire put a hand to her throat. “Oh God, what a mess. What will we do?”
Cal shrugged. “That’s your call, Claire. He’s your husband.”
She closed her eyes. “We have to know.”
“I agree.” He didn't bring up the other stuff he was thinking because she'd had enough shocks for one day.
But Robert must have planned the theft with Sonny. He could have given Sonny the safe combination and used Sonny's affair with Noelle to bring in Amanda.
The bonds in Sonny's suitcase would have been his fee. Strange Sonny was so stupid as to settle for a few hundred thousand instead of a million or two. But...
Sonny had asked Claire to run off with him. Maybe he did get more from the theft of the diamonds. Maybe when Noelle found out about Lynnette and killed him, she took the rest.
No. Why would she leave five hundred thousand dollars in his suitcase?
Because she couldn't get to the suitcase in the house. She'd taken the cash Matthew had given Sonny, though.
Or maybe Sonny had stashed the rest of the bonds in Las Vegas with the book. Maybe Noelle went there to pick it up.
Yeah, that made sense.
No matter. Robert was involved, and Claire would be hurt.
But not as hurt as Amanda if Noelle turned out to be a murderess.
* * * *
Amanda's heart leaped when she found Callaway waiting for her after work. His necktie had been discarded along with his suit coat, but the open collar of his white shirt against his tanned throat looked downright seductive. As he listened to piano music she hadn’t downloaded, his familiar presence filled her small abode.
She could get used to this.
“Is Noelle not here?” he asked.
“No. Just you and me, babe.”
The answering twinkle before his kiss reassured her. He was as glad to see her as she was to see him.
“Too bad she'll be here soon,” he said, coming up for air. “Her plane was due in an hour ago. Ready to go to dinner?”
That reminded her of Noelle's itinerary. “Callaway, look.” She brought it over. “This number you said was to your office, the one we thought was Sonny’s number? It wasn’t here when I cleaned Sunday. Why would she be calling Sonny when—”
“—when Sonny was already dead,” he finished. His face turned grim as he studied the itinerary. “I don't know. Look, do you care if we put off eating till Noelle gets here? I need to talk to her.”
“I guess I'd better order pizza, huh?”
He glanced up at that, grinning so hard that the minuscule dimple was in full-blown display. “I'm sorry, Amanda,” and on his tongue the name was an endearment. “I'll take you out to eat another time. I promise.”
“It's a good thing you have more to recommend you than your taste in food.”
He didn't hear. He was frowning at the number Noelle had written as he drew out his cell phone and dialed.
“No answer?” Amanda asked when he disconnected.
“No.”
“It’s six o’clock. Everyone’s gone home. No voicemail?”
“Our top people don’t use voicemail. We have assistants to screen calls. Mother insisted on the personal touch.”
Why wouldn’t he look at her? What was he thinking?
Noelle.
By seven o'clock that evening, when Noelle still hadn't shown up, Callaway called the airport and then his investigation agency.
“The flight got in at five thirty?” He listened. “A taxi. Where to?” He listened again. “Could be. I'd better get over there.”
When he hung up, he picked up his suit coat. “I have to go.”
Why wouldn’t he tell her what was worrying him? “Where's Noelle?”
“Something's come up. Something about, uh, about the journal. I'll be back.” At the door, he hesitated, looked at her in a way she didn't understand. “I'll be back.”
He opened his mouth but shook his head and abruptly left.
What had he been about to say?
She picked up Noelle's old itinerary and studied the number on the back. Maybe she could find out who it belonged to.
She turned on her computer and used reverse lookup to put in the phone number. The name came up under McIntyre Resort Headquarters in Roswell as Callaway had said.
But he’d agreed it couldn’t be Sonny’s phone.
Okay. How about plugging in McIntyre Resort Headquarters? Their home page didn’t have a directory, but there were other hits to check. After reading for a half hour through all kinds of legalese and lists, she found a phone number identical to the one Noelle had jotted down.
Office of the Chief Executive Officer.
Noelle was calling Robert Winslow?
* * * *
Cal pulled into the parking lot of the Roswell building. A handful of cars remained this time of night, but they were empty. As he drove around to the back of the twelve-story building, he spotted a nondescript Chevrolet parked alone with someone inside and stopped the Mercedes so that his door was next to the driver's side.
The African-American woman of indeterminate age was expecting him. She rolled down her window.
He did the same. “I'm Cal McIntyre.”
“I'm Coronella. From Footwise Investigations. The subject got off the shuttle at the corner, walked across the lot, and went in the side entrance about twenty minutes ago.”
Noelle needed a keycard to get into McIntyre headquarters after hours, but if she'd arranged to meet Robert, he might have met her and let her in.
Cal said, “I asked your boss for three more people. I'll stop at the front and tell them to let you through. When the others get here, bring them up to the twelfth floor and wait in the corridor. I'd guess we'll find her in the office at the far end.”
The CEO's office. Robert's office.
“What do you expect to happen?”
He expected to find Noelle selling Robert the journal.
She’d shot Sonny, recovered his payment, and now she’d found a buyer for the journal. “I don't know, but it could be bad. I think we should be prepared.”
Coronella looked doubtful. “Guess it never hurts to have some extra hands.”
At the front desk, Cal recognized the guard monitoring the front cameras as a longtime employee who had been there in his grandfather's time. What was his name? Harold? Howard?
Horace, that was it.
“How're you doing, Horace?” After going through the obligatory what've-you-been-up-to and how've-you-been's, Callaway got to the point. “Say, you didn't happen to notice a woman come in the north entrance, did you?”
“Sure did. Got her on film with a record of the breach right here, Cal. This machine tracks everybody what comes in after hours.” The elderly guard hit a key on his computer with a flourish, showing off his relish at the newfangled technology. “Yep. Come in at seven twenty-five. VIP keycard, according to the listing. She could of been one of them Virginia visitors we been having this week.” His leer showed he didn't believe it.
“I'm expecting some more people shortly. Send them up to the CEO's office, will you?”
A wide grin cracked Horace's leathery face. “Heard the Board wasn't too happy with the way things're going. You here to have it out with Mr. Winslow?”
“Maybe.” Cal grinned back. A person could say any outrageous thing after a certain age. “Or maybe he'll have it out with me.”
“Nah, he ain't got the balls.” Horace dug in his desk drawer and came out with a keycard. “Executive floor's locked up tight at night. Not even your card'll work. Better take this master.”
“Thanks, Horace.” Catching the card in midair, Cal strode toward the elevators while the grizzled security man was still cackling.
He'd be damned if he would let Robert get hold of the journal. With any luck, he'd catch Noelle in the act of selling it but hated to think about what would follow. He could see them explaining to the police, Noelle being arrested for Sonny's murder, Amanda's face when she found what her sister had done. And he could imagine Amanda’s reaction, bristling with that strong protective instinct she had for Noelle.
God, she could turn on him and blame him for everything. She’d be too upset to see Noelle had brought this on herself.
He wouldn't think about Amanda, or what Noelle's guilt would do to his and Amanda's budding relationship. Not now.
The twelfth floor was devoted to executive offices, all empty this time of evening as was the rest of the building. Double doors in the hallway led back to the top offices, but they were locked. Cal fished out the keycard Horace had given him.
A fringe benefit from being a McIntyre, he thought in brief triumph, is that the guard will hand over the key to the entire building without question.
He hoped to heaven he'd get to Robert's office in time. Bad enough the man was going to be arrested for embezzling. No need to rub his face in Claire's past.
Quickening his pace, Cal went past empty assistants’ desks to where a thin strip of light showed beneath the door to Robert's office. This door was, as were the outer entry doors, locked. He put his ear to its solid wood, heard voices indistinguishable except as those of a woman and a man.
Muffled squeals broke through the heavy wooden door, followed by a loud thump and the noise of more heavy objects falling. What the hell was happening? It sounded like a maniac was wrecking the office, pushing over all the furniture in his path. Or like someone was struggling for his life.
Callaway froze, but no further sound came from Robert's office except an unexpected and sinister quiet.
He couldn’t wait for reinforcements.
* * * *
When the phone rang, Amanda put down leftover pizza she was wrapping in plastic. The caller was from Callaway's investigative agency, asking for him.
“He isn't here, but I have his cellphone number.”
“We've tried it but he isn't answering. Since he called earlier from this number, I thought he might be there.”
“He isn't but he'll be back. I can take a message.” Amanda licked pizza topping off her hand and scrabbled in a drawer for a pen.