The Trophy Wife Exchange Read online

  “I never knew you had those little freckles,” Sandy said.

  “I used to hide them with makeup until the lady suggested that less-is-better when it comes to being over forty. I kind of like the result myself.”

  “Definitely. Still—wow. You’ve done something more.”

  Mary laughed out loud. “Been getting in on every workout class I could manage at the gym. Billy doesn’t mind. He’s been so supportive since I started working there. Size sixteen, down to a twelve. I’m aiming for ten.”

  Sandy hugged her. “I’m so proud of you.” They both came out of the embrace with tears in their eyes.

  “Pen’s making lunch for us at her house, where we’ll go over the information we’ve gathered on your ex and decide what steps to take next. You have to come along. The group is going to be every bit as impressed as I am.”

  They took Sandy’s car, driving up the winding drive on Camelback Mountain to Pen’s home with its incomparable views of the city below. Mary grew quiet, no doubt thinking of the money Clint had cheated her out of, the fact that with a portion of it she might be living on a much better scale. Sandy pulled into the circular drive and saw Gracie’s minivan and Amber’s little Prius already parked there. They got out and walked up the travertine steps to the beveled-glass front door.

  The reactions were exactly as Sandy had anticipated—puzzlement when the Ladies first spotted Mary, then incredulity followed by congratulations and joy. Amber, in particular, couldn’t take her eyes off the transformation she’d witnessed. She was like the awestruck little sister as they took their places at Pen’s dining table.

  “Naomi made us this huge Mexican salad,” Pen said, “and there’s a spicy dressing here in the pitcher.” She scooped portions onto plates and passed them around.

  “So, fill me in,” Mary said. “I know you’ve already told me about some of your progress. Did Clint’s golfing buddies give you any clues?”

  Pen told how she’d used Stan Piccard’s name to come up with the pretense of the charity sponsorship of a new concert hall, and how the information had gained her access to Clint’s top-floor offices downtown. “He seemed genuinely interested in being considered for the job but somewhat distracted by his current project—too distracted to ask any serious questions about what ours would entail. Which is good, since I had no specifics and am not very adept at making up such fabrications at a moment’s notice.”

  “Amber and I have been finding more background on your ex,” Gracie said. “It seems he got his contractor’s license within months after the divorce became final. He must have been studying for the test and making his applications even while you were with him, Mary.”

  “I was in such a daze then,” Mary admitted. “Living much of the time with my parents, working beyond exhaustion. Barely seeing Clint, even when we were in the same room.”

  “So, then, with his fresh new license in hand,” Amber said. “He leased the top two floors of that high-rise downtown. He did not build the whole place—Pen verified that during her visit. We think he took cash he’d hidden from the courts and furnished the offices to make an impression on new clients.”

  “I think it’s leased furniture,” Pen said with a sniff. “It simply is not quality stuff, and the art is only a step above dime-store.”

  “He would give clients some song-and-dance about his experience and convince them he was a bigtime contractor. It was a pretense—he’s mostly done small jobs—a strip-mall shopping center here and a little office building there, mainly out in the suburbs.”

  “My guess,” Sandy said, “after looking at his financial claims, is that he padded expenses on these little jobs and stashed cash in a variety of accounts. Amber ferreted out some of those during her initial search.”

  “He’s been putting feelers out for bigger jobs for a year or more. Now it looks as if he’s found one.”

  “Pen did manage to get the information that Clint’s newest project is taking place in China,” Sandy said. “He and little-blondie are going there at the end of the week.”

  “Clint’s audacious, I’ll agree,” said Mary. “One of those guys who thinks he’s a lot smarter than he really is. But even so, doesn’t this seem quite a bit out of his league—taking a job in a foreign country, any country, much less China? I mean, there’s tons of construction right here in the valley—all over the U.S. Why China?”

  Shrugs all around. No one seemed to have an answer, although Pen pointed out that his lawyer had a Chinese name—Woo could merely be an Americanization of Wu. Perhaps that was the connection.

  “So, what does that mean to us? Can we somehow gain access to the money?” Gracie asked.

  “I’d hoped we could find enough information about his finances and accounts to handle this completely aboveboard,” Sandy said. “I know. It’s the banker in me coming out.”

  Pen spoke up again. “It’s just that it’s difficult to get a judge to review a divorce decree, much less make any changes to it. Once the papers are signed, it’s usually a done deal. I once researched it for a book.”

  “Unless it’s proven there was fraud by one of the parties,” Gracie added.

  “And that’s exactly what happened,” Mary insisted. “He hid assets, moved money out of the country …”

  Amber set her fork down and picked up the tablet that was nearly always with her. “Let’s check. I like Gracie’s idea of our getting access to the money.”

  Nods all around.

  Amber focused on the tablet, typing access information at sites she had visited before, while the others finished their salads. A scowl creased her forehead. She tapped a couple more links then held up the tablet. “Ohmygod—this one has been cleared out. There’s less than a thousand dollars where there was previously more than a hundred thousand.”

  Mary practically wilted in her chair. Amber continued to slide her fingers across the surface of the screen.

  “And this one … the account no longer exists.”

  “What!” Gracie was on her feet. “How can that be?”

  Amber shrugged. “Lots of reasons, I suppose. He spent it, he moved it somewhere else …”

  “Or he knew we were looking and he hid it again.” Mary’s small freckles stood out against her pallor.

  “Look, we cannot assume anything at this point,” Pen pointed out, her tone sensible. “We know he is working on a large business deal right now.”

  “Large deals require the movement of large amounts of money,” Sandy said. “I agree. Let’s do some further checking and see where it leads before we panic.”

  “Has he left for China yet?” Mary asked.

  “I don’t think so. The conversation I overheard indicated they would leave on Friday.”

  “Then I’ve got two days to track him down and confront him,” Mary said, her brows pinched together in a frown.

  Sandy and Pen exchanged a glance.

  “That probably wouldn’t be a good idea,” Sandy said. “Right now he’s not thinking about you and isn’t suspicious that we’re looking into his finances.”

  “We believe he’s not.” Amber had gone back to her salad.

  “Right. If he saw an inquiry on his credit record, he would assume it came as a result of the information I requested on behalf of my make-believe charitable project.”

  Mary sputtered a little. “But what if he gets away with all that money? Puts it somewhere untraceable and then gives the judge a shrug and makes him believe I’m crazy for even thinking I could get part of it.”

  Sandy reached out and patted Mary’s hand. “That’s not how it’s going to work. We’ll track the money first, then we’ll print statements and documents to prove it exists. Then we’ll get a lawyer to look at everything and try to get it before a judge. There’s no way we’re going to jump the gun here and make things worse.”

  Mary sighed. “Well, it can’t get any worse than before. At least now I’m not homeless and penniless, even though my first few paychecks are going to
repay Penelope for her help with my apartment.”

  Pen smiled at her. “Let’s just take each thing as it comes. There is absolutely no rush on the loan.”

  “So what is our next step?” Gracie asked. She made the first move to help clear the empty plates. “I mean, if it turns out he’s moved his money to China, is there any real possibility we can get at it?”

  No one had an answer for that question. When Pen served flan for dessert, conversation came to a halt.

  “I hate to eat and run,” Sandy said, “but my assistant manager can only cover for me so long.”

  She glanced toward Mary, who took the hint and said she would love a ride back where she could catch her bus. Amber busied herself at her touchpad for a few more minutes. Gracie looked at her watch and announced she’d better be home when her kids got there.

  Amber hung back after the others left.

  “What do you think about the possibility Mr. Holbrook moved his money to China?” Pen asked as she cleared dishes and tidied the kitchen.

  “It’s doable,” Amber said. She fiddled a little more with something on her screen. “If he has the recipient’s IBAN number and SWIFT or BIC code of their bank, he can transfer money there every bit as easily as he could send it from Phoenix to Los Angeles.”

  Pen pondered the information. This was all becoming so complicated.

  Chapter 17

  Kaycie flipped through a rack of sequined dresses, looking for the purple one in a size four.

  “You know, the Far East is the place to go for cosmetic surgery,” her mother said under her breath, her attention divided between the clothes racks and her daughter.

  Unconsciously, Kaycie glanced down at her chest. There was nothing wrong with being petite. But Mom had planted that seed of uncertainty. Clint definitely liked women with curves.

  “I’m just saying … Your trip would be the perfect opportunity and no one back home would be the wiser …” Sylvia looked at the dress Kaycie had pulled from the rack. “Oh, no, sweetie. That one’s cut too straight. I mean, that is …”

  It was the third remark Mom had made about an item Kaycie chose. She jammed the hanger back on its hook. This shopping trip was quickly losing its allure.

  She thought back to what she’d read in the brochures and guidebooks. Shanghai was the business hub of China, so there might be lunches and dinners with Clint and his clients. Theater and shows.

  Her on-air clothing was certainly presentable for business meals. She would toss in a gown and a cocktail dress in case there were more formal occasions, and she could certainly shop for something new if her existing wardrobe lacked anything.

  “Let’s go,” she said, turning away from Sylvia.

  “Are you hungry, sweetie? I’d planned on treating you to lunch out, although it’s a bit early.”

  She was tired of her mother’s company, but by the time she drove Sylvia all the way out to her home in Glendale and then came back to browse the shops again, half the day would be wasted. Kaycie had to admit she was getting a little hungry. The small carton of light yogurt at breakfast hadn’t quite held her appetite at bay. She put on a quick smile and asked where they would eat. When Sylvia went into her advice-giving mode it was best to let her take free rein with all the decisions.

  “The other thing that would fill out your figure a bit,” said Sylvia once they had settled into a booth at Ramon’s, “would be having a baby.”

  Yeah, right. Having a baby would fill out the parts she absolutely did not want filled out. She shook her head. “We’re not having this discussion, Mom.”

  She stared at the salad section of the menu but her mind went elsewhere. A baby definitely should be in the plan, for all the reasons she’d previously convinced herself. If Clint was not just blowing smoke about the size of this new job, his profit on it would provide several million reasons. She decided to add some enticing new lingerie to this afternoon’s shopping list.

  She had budgeted most of the day for shopping; she didn’t need to be at the station until five. This was the day she was handing in her notice.

  Or, maybe instead of quitting her job outright, she should request a year’s leave of absence. No one she knew at the station had ever actually done that, but it was worth asking. She and Clint would be gone a few months and she would manage to get pregnant during that time. Then come home, have the baby, extend her time off with maternity leave, then spend a few more months getting back in shape before going back to the cameras.

  “—sounds good, don’t you think?” Sylvia was staring at the menu and had apparently been talking during Kaycie’s little brainstorming session.

  There was no way she would ask her mother to repeat. The server was heading their way. “Sure, whatever. I’m going with the grilled shrimp salad.”

  Predictably, Sylvia changed her order to match Kaycie’s. The two finished their lunch before the restaurant became crowded; they headed toward a mid-priced store Kaycie knew of, where she hoped to focus the attention on upgrading Mom’s wardrobe rather than hearing more about her own flaws.

  She settled her mother into the changing room with a dozen outfits and told her she needed to put more money in the parking meter down the street. Instead, she ducked into Victoria’s Secret and plucked the first two skimpy things she spotted off the racks. This ought to get Clint on the same wavelength with her about their late-night activity for the evening.

  Chapter 18

  Penelope checked her image in the hall mirror as she clipped a diamond to her left ear. Light flickered across the wall, and Benton Case’s car pulled through her circular drive and stopped at the front door. She adjusted a strand of hair that was out of place and picked up her evening bag. She didn’t need another night out this week—her work with the Heist Ladies had eaten a goodly share of her writing time already—but she’d committed to be Benton’s date for the bar association fete where he was to be honored for his years of service in the district attorney’s office.

  He hadn't noticed her through the beveled glass yet, and she watched as he got out of his Lexus SUV and walked up the steps. With his silver hair and tuxedo he was a very handsome man and Pen had to admit it was a pleasure to be seen with him in public. More important, though, was the bond they’d formed over the years. They’d been lovers for a few years after she, as a young widow, had moved to Phoenix but then the relationship settled into one of shared confidences and solid friendship.

  He reached for the doorbell and she opened the door at the same moment. They both laughed.

  “Ready for a thrilling evening of rubber chicken and windy speeches?” he asked, giving her a light kiss on the cheek.

  She took his arm and looked up at him. “You’re the honoree, darling. Anything they have to say about you will be brilliant.”

  He made a little yeah-yeah-sure noise and opened the passenger door for her.

  “At least it should be over fairly early, and afterward we’ll go have a drink.”

  The event venue was the Arizona Biltmore, where the bar was known for the who’s-who of celebrity faces one might see there. Benton drove up the stately driveway, past the sweeping lawns and banks of flowering shrubs. At the front entrance he stopped before the clipped boxwood that spelled out the words Arizona Biltmore. A valet held the door for Pen and took the car after Benton handed over the keys.

  Contrary to his dire prediction, the meal was excellent prime rib with an especially nice merlot. The accolades came after, a fitting tribute to a man who had served the city well, and Pen felt proud when Benton walked to the podium to receive his engraved plaque and say a few words. By the time they retired to the bar, with its deeply burnished woodwork and windows facing the pool and palm grove, he was noticeably more relaxed.

  “It’s not comfortable for you, is it? Hearing praise and receiving awards,” she said after they’d placed orders for Italian Amaro.

  Some of the bar’s other patrons had eyed the classy couple, wondering where they’d seen these fac
es before. It was the type of place Pen dreaded someone pulling one of her books from a bag and making a fuss. Luckily, no one did.

  “I wanted to talk to you about this newest venture the ladies and I’ve got ourselves working on,” she said when their drinks arrived. “We’re in hopes that our efforts will help a woman whose husband was so unfair in their divorce settlement that she’s found herself homeless. We’re trusting that new evidence might gain her a new hearing with a judge.”

  “Fill me in. What new evidence do you have?”

  She went over the first meeting with Mary, how Clint Holbrook had defaulted on the payments on the home and how the paltry amount of cash she’d received was quickly gone.

  “He’s living at Vandergrift Towers in Scottsdale and showing off his business from a spacious suite of offices in a downtown high-rise. There are huge amounts of money in his bank accounts.” Well, there recently had been.

  She quickly skimmed back to the subject of Mary’s new job and apartment, not wanting Benton to ask detailed questions about how she should happen to know how much money was in Clint’s accounts. Amber’s hacking into the bank records to learn that information would not be viewed kindly by the law. They tended to favor search warrants and gaining information through channels. Such a bother.

  “If there was fraudulent reporting of assets during the divorce proceedings, wouldn’t there be a possibility of having the settlement reviewed?” she asked. “I think we can definitely get the information to prove it.”

  Benton picked up his glass. “How does Mary know he didn’t earn all this money after the divorce was already final? You said she wasn’t active in his plumbing business for a few years before they split up.”

  It was a concern, Pen knew. Clint would simply claim his newfound success happened after Mary was out of the picture.