Show Me the Money Page 3

  “Challenging, at times, but yeah, it was cool. We landed in London and spent two days with a big client there, then it was on to Amsterdam for a week and meetings with two more potential accounts.”

  “And Paris? How did that figure in?”

  Amber blushed slightly. “Well, there’s this guy …”

  Smiles and nods all around.

  “He works in Paris. We ‘met’ at an online symposium a few weeks ago during a class on the introduction of blockchain technology into the current modes of supply … Well, you don’t care about that. Anyway, we kept turning up in the same live chat rooms and group discussions, so he asked if he could privately message me. And he did, and we started getting more personal …”

  “What’s his name?” Gracie piped up, smiling.

  “Cody Brennan. Anyway, the more we talked about where we worked and what we do in our jobs, it was really obvious we had a lot in common. So when I mentioned the trip for B-G, he suggested I come to Paris, where he lives.”

  Pen smiled and raised her glass once more.

  “Anyway, I took some vacation days and well … it was fun. In person he’s so much better looking than in his photos, and well, you know. He just had a way about him. He’s a fun guy and he knows the city, which I barely remembered from when I was a kid there. So we did the touristy things, but we also hit a lot of quiet little spots. Did some shopping, ate some fantastic meals. Each evening he brought me a single pink rose.”

  “Aww …” Mary grinned.

  Amber blushed. “Yeah, fun, romantic touches.”

  Gracie spoke up. “You said something last night about him coming here?”

  “Right. That’s the cool thing. He was due some vacation time, too, so he wanted to come to Phoenix so we could spend some more time together. He’s American, raised on the east coast. I think his parents still live there. He didn’t mention his mom much, but his dad, for sure. Cody talked about him some. So, he checked into getting on the same flight I was on, but it was full. He said he could get on another one in a couple of days.”

  “You mean he could be calling almost any time? Arriving here?”

  “I hope so. I mean, I don’t know. I don’t have a flight number for him, and he might have ended up on standby or something …”

  “Do you think you’re ready for him to meet your parents?” Mary asked.

  “Uh, I’m thinking not yet. I didn’t mention him to them, and with this new trouble … I think I’d better keep those two things in different compartments for now. Dad wants to meet Mariah Kowzlowski. Knowing him, he’ll size her up, check out her record on cases won, and hire someone else if he doesn’t like what he finds.”

  “I guess this brings up the difficult subject,” Sandy said.

  “The elephant in the room.” Amber said it with a little laugh. “I know you’re all curious about what happened.”

  “Well, Gracie filled us in on the parts she knew,” Sandy said. “But I still don’t really understand it. You had a carry-on bag with cash in it?”

  “Cash that I’d never seen before. I hope they fingerprint the bundles and prove that.”

  “That would be a good first step,” Pen said, “although a shrewd prosecutor is going to say you wore gloves when you handled it.”

  “We need more,” Sandy said. She paused, chopsticks in mid-air. “Look at me. Here I am, assuming we’ll work on this ourselves.”

  “I believe we most definitely should,” Pen told them. “Right now, who is in Amber’s corner? The attorney, certainly, but she will be looking at whatever evidence the police collect and then she’ll attempt to contradict or disprove it. But I’m not certain she’ll put a private investigator on the case. It’s a chance I don’t think we can take.”

  “And Amber’s own resources could be limited. I mean, the order not to leave Maricopa County basically pins you down to the metro area. If the trail leads elsewhere, you’ll need us on your team, especially if the evidence is to be found in another country.”

  “Are you trying to sell me on the idea of accepting your help?” Amber asked. “Because you know there’s no one in the world I trust more than the four of you.”

  Chapter 7

  Amber rolled over in bed, tempted to pull the pillow over her head to drown out the pesky buzz of some irritating insect. Then she recognized the noise for what it was—her intercom, signaling a visitor. Really? At … 7:36 a.m.? A voice came through, faint in the distance from the front door to the bedroom, but distinct.

  “Amber, aren’t you there?” Her mother, sounding worried.

  My god, they’d said an early flight, but seriously?

  She rolled to the edge of her wonderfully comfy mattress, wishing she could pretend she’d slept through the buzzing. Running her fingers through the tangles of her wildly curly hair, she padded through the dining room and pushed the intercom button.

  “Mom? You’re here already?”

  “Our flight left Albuquerque at 5:43,” said her father’s voice. “Didn’t you get our texts?”

  She sighed and pressed the button to allow access to the elevator. In the two minutes before they would be at her door, there wasn’t much she could do to appear ready to welcome guests. Peering at her reflection in the glossy window on her microwave, she tried to make some order of her hair and rubbed the grains of sleep from her eyes. Her sleep shorts and tank top would have to do—it wasn’t as if her parents hadn’t seen her scantily dressed on a few occasions.

  She’d pulled out a box of assorted K-cup flavors and was reaching for clean mugs from an upper cabinet when the knock came at the door.

  I should have been up early, should have planned what I was going to say to them. This is going to be a disaster.

  She put on a smile and held the door, stepping aside to let them in. “Sorry, I didn’t get your text. I was exhausted last night and left my phone somewhere …”

  “My baby,” Mom said, dropping her purse on the sofa and pulling Amber into a hug. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this.”

  I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. Oh yuck.

  Her father was studying her face. “There’s nothing to it—is there?”

  “No! No, I still don’t know how it happened, but I swear to you I didn’t commit a crime.” At least not this month. She stifled thoughts of other somewhat-iffy things she’d done in the past. Dad could read her like a grade school primer.

  Turning her back, she pointed toward the mugs in the kitchen. “Look, how about if you two make yourselves a coffee, and I’ll get dressed. I’ll take you out to breakfast.” Preferably at a crowded place where we won’t have to talk about personal stuff.

  “It’s really nice outside this morning. Enjoy yourselves out on the balcony,” she said, slipping her phone off the dining table while they were preoccupied in the kitchen.

  Closing her bedroom door behind her, she first skimmed through the texts that had arrived since last night. Dad had sent their flight information last night, confirmed when they were leaving the Albuquerque airport, reiterated that they’d arrived in Phoenix and were at the rental car desk. Sheesh. No wonder they expected her to be waiting at her door in full welcome mode.

  There was one from Cody: No worries about not meeting my flight. Paris to London flight delayed. Missed connection. Trying for direct to PHX. Will keep you posted. Sleep tight.

  It had come in at two a.m.

  She set the phone aside and pawed through her closet, deciding on stretch jeans and a V-neck t-shirt. Clean cut, all American girl, nothing to warrant a critique. In the shower, she chastised herself—so far, although shocked, her parents had been nothing but supportive. They’d always had a close relationship, aside from the fact that Dad was used to being in charge. His comment last evening about having her lawyer checked out was just his way. He wouldn’t find Mariah Kowzlowski lacking, not if Benton and Pen knew her.

  She stepped out of the shower and toweled off, putting on her clothes and taming her corkscrew curls int
o a high ponytail, sticking in enough pins to create a messy bun. When she walked into the bedroom her phone was ringing. It went to voicemail before she could catch it.

  “I got a call from Detective Howard,” Mariah Kowzlowski’s gritty voice said. “The police have released your personal possessions and you can go downtown and pick them up any time. Not the cash. Don’t be surprised if there’s fingerprint powder on your stuff. It’s how they do things.”

  Great. Amber couldn’t force herself to be excited about walking into the police station, but she would like to have her favorite clothes back, along with the gifts she’d bought for her friends. Before she’d quite decided how to handle the situation, the phone rang again and it was Pen’s name on the screen.

  “Pen, thank goodness.”

  “How are you doing this morning?”

  “Well, my parents rang the bell before I was even out of bed, and now the police want me to come pick up my stuff downtown. So the day is starting out peachy.”

  “Handling your parents falls to you, I’m afraid, but I would be most happy to go and sign for your things at the station. I know my way around fairly well, from Benton’s days in the same complex.”

  “Oh, Pen, that would be great.”

  “Consider it done. Phone me when you’re free and would like me to bring your things.”

  “Actually, can we plan on later this morning? I promised my parents breakfast, which should give them time to chew me out plenty. By ten or eleven I should be more than ready for an intervention.”

  “I’ll text you once I’ve got your bags. You may then let me know what’s convenient for me to casually drop them by.”

  “Sounds like a plan. And, Pen? Thank you. You’re the best.”

  “I never had a granddaughter, so I’m adopting you. If you don’t mind.”

  Amber thanked her again and they ended the call. She walked out to her kitchen to find her father at the dining table with a near-empty coffee mug. Her mother was strolling through the living room, cupping her mug between her palms.

  “You’ve got some new things,” Marianne said. “I don’t remember those pillows or that art print. Would you like me to help you hang it?”

  Amber smiled and actually studied the room. “Maybe later. Some friends came by last night and brought the gifts. I guess my place is pretty plain and I just hadn’t noticed. Gracie even got me a plant for the balcony. Now I have to remember to water it.”

  “It’s a beautiful condo,” her mother said. “And how interesting that you see right into the neighbors’ living rooms, too.”

  “Yeah, that took a little getting used to. The guy across the courtyard on the fifth floor watches TV in his boxers and never closes his drapes. I’ve kind of learned to ignore him.”

  Her mother patted her arm. “Well, you be sure to get in the habit of closing yours when you’re in here alone after dark. You never know who’s watching.”

  “Right.”

  “I want to talk about this lawyer they sent you,” her dad chimed in. “We might need to hire someone better.”

  “Over breakfast. Remember, I said I’d take you out, and there’s a great place just across the street in Fashion Square.”

  She managed to get them out the door and they walked across to the massive mall, which boasted all the name-brand designer clothing and accessories. Settling into a booth at Sadie’s Place, Edward went right to the topic again. What a dog with a bone, Amber thought.

  They studied the menu and ordered omelets, and while they waited for their food, Amber managed to convince him that Kowzlowski was reputable and an excellent defense lawyer, according to Benton Case, who would know. Muttering a little, her father switched topics.

  “So while this hotshot lawyer works on getting the charges dropped, you need to come home to Santa Fe with us. Our return flight is tomorrow, and I can still get you a seat.”

  “Dad, you know I can’t do that.”

  “And why not?”

  Oops. Forgot to mention the conditions of my release.

  “I have to stay in Maricopa County. The cops ordered it.” She fiddled with the straw that had come with her glass of orange juice. “Plus, I have a job here, and friends who want to help me. I can’t just take off anytime I want.”

  But did she have a job? B-G was one area of her life that had, so far, remained curiously silent. Had anyone there heard about her night in jail?

  Chapter 8

  Cody Baker stepped off the escalator at the Tri-Borough Mall and scanned the weekend crowd. He gave a sigh and made his way toward the food court, where he spotted his father sitting alone at a small table, cupping a paper coffee container in his hands. It hit him that his dad was thinner and grayer than the last time he’d seen him.

  “Hey, Pop,” he said, taking a little pleasure in the fact that he’d startled the older man by walking up behind him.

  “Hey! Back from your trip. I gotta hear the details.” Woody Baker reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar bill. “Here, let me treat you to a cuppa coffee.”

  “Sure, sure.” Cody walked to the counter at Cup O’ Joe and ordered a latte, adding three more dollars to cover it. Pop had no clue about the cost of things, and he’d likely only ordered the most basic, cheapest cup for himself.

  As the barista poured and stirred, Cody turned again to scan the crowd. There was Pop, smiling largely at a family of little kids.

  “Sir, your latte.”

  He dropped his change into the tip jar and picked up his cup. Approaching the table, he watched his dad reach into his pocket again and pull out a coin.

  “Hey, wanna shiny new quarter?” he said to a four-year-old in a fluffy pink jacket.

  The little girl’s mother shot him a fierce look before taking her daughter’s hand and leading her away, saying something urgently in the girl’s ear.

  “Sheesh, what’s with people?” Woody complained.

  “Pop, you can’t be doing that. Times are different now. It scares people.”

  “Well, it’s a shitty world when you can’t be nice to a kid.” He said it a little too loudly and several people stared.

  Cody lowered his eyes and took a long sip of his coffee.

  “So, Pop, why the mall? Kind of a weird place to meet up.” Especially considering what we’re going to talk about.

  “My bank has a branch here. I want to take a long gander at my balance and then I’m gonna take some cash out, for the track.”

  Cody pulled out his phone. “People don’t do it that way anymore. We can just sign in and see your balance. What’s your login and password?”

  “Aw, I don’t got none of that stuff. Hell, I use the ATM—sometimes. That’s modern enough. Besides, all this modern crap just leaves a trail. Cash is king. That’s how I work. How we always worked in the old days.”

  They’d had this conversation a dozen times. Paying for big purchases in cash was considered impressive, back in Woody’s day, back before there were dollar limits on what you could deposit or travel with. Moving big money now required computer skills.

  “So, you get somebody to bring me my cut?”

  “Let’s walk around, Pop. I don’t want anybody listening in.” Cody spoke in a low voice, eyeing the movement of foot traffic.

  “Good idea. I’ll stop at the ATM and get my betting money.” He pointed toward the far end of the long walkway. “So? The mark. She bring the goods in?”

  They left the table and moved past a Gap and a Benetton before Cody spoke again.

  “There was a snag.”

  “What snag?” Woody stopped and stared at his son. “She got caught?”

  Cody gave a half-nod, noncommittal. “So far, I’ve been stalling about seeing her. She thinks I’m still in Europe, or maybe England.”

  “How much did you send with her?”

  “About a third.”

  “A third of our loot?”

  “Pop, you should see this girl. Not at all the type Customs picks on. Cute as a button,
mixed race, obviously well off, travels first class. There was just no chance they’d call her out and inspect her bag. I packed the stash myself. It wasn’t an easy find.”

  “But you think they did?” Woody made a disgusted sound and tossed his cup toward a trash barrel, missing. He walked on without a backward glance.

  “Son, what do you know about this girl, anyway? And how much does she know about you?”

  “I know plenty. I’ve been watching her for a couple months now, and not just online. As for what I’ve told her about myself, she thinks I work for this Omni Corporation in New York and I’ve been assigned to their Paris office. No clue that I live just a few miles from her. She doesn’t even know my real name. She knows nothing that ties to you or to Jersey.”

  Woody muttered, “So now whatcha gonna do?”

  “This was a test. And don’t forget, this is on you, Pop. You’re the one who wanted cash. I moved everything out of that corporate account, in increments that made sense for the business. Set up some offshore accounts, switched it up several times. It was all made to look like everyday business. You’re the one that wanted to see good old hundred-dollar bills.”

  “Hey! Don’t start that with me. You’re still a whippersnapper in my book.”

  Cody took a deep breath. Pop believed Cody still needed his ideas and connections to pull off this con, and the next. They walked on, making sure nobody was close enough to really listen. Mostly it was young families, rowdy kids, or clusters of giggling teenage girls.

  “Okay, Pop. I get it. Either I picked the wrong girl or luck just went against us. You never had a run of bad luck on a con? Never had an inside tip on a horse go wrong? Just let me think about this. I can get the money moved back here and you’ll have access. I still got my inside connections, but I gotta get back to my day job by tomorrow. That’s gonna tell me a lot.”

  The bank was just ahead. They waited until a leather-jacketed guy with tattoos running up his neck finished at the ATM and walked away. Woody walked up and fumbled his bank card into the machine. He muttered a little, until Cody stepped up and helped him select the correct buttons. It was reassuring to see that the account still had a high five-figure balance. At least Pop hadn’t splurged it all on some conspicuous purchase.