medium height, his very expensive-looking
designer suit drew one’s attention to him at once. He appeared perfectly
styled, from the top of his graying brown hair to the toes of his wing-tipped
leather shoes. His piercing green eyes seemed to take us all in and file us for
later consideration.
Theresa gasped. Her hand, still holding her steno pad and
pen, fluttered to her chest.
“You all right?” Lizzie asked her.
Theresa took a shuddering breath. “He-he just startled me.
Hello, Mr. Vanderveer.”
“Theresa.” The man inclined his head toward her.
What was that all about, I wondered?
“Fact one,” Edward Vanderveer said in precise tones. “All of
the fund-raising money disappeared on the night of the Fourth last year.”
“Was stolen, Ed,” Lizzie corrected. An undercurrent of
dislike touched her words.
Vanderveer held up a manicured hand. “Disappeared, for now,
Lizzie. Fact two. Our company’s money vanished the day before, although I
didn’t know about it until the banks reopened on the fifth. And no one but Lee
and I could withdraw funds from our business’s account. You are still, as you
were then, Theresa, in the clear.”
I found his precise tones irritating. I suppose precision
was what a person would want in their financial advisor but coming into contact
with him on a daily basis would have driven me crazy. With the sinking
sensation his recitation was going to take awhile, I looked around, spotted a
stool and settled onto it. At once the three-legged Mazda tried to scramble
into my lap. I’m a sucker for fur of any species so I scooped the hefty armload
up and let him settle. As if that were a signal, three of the poodles joined
us, though Roomba continued her nonstop circling of the floorboards with
several of the other poodles following her.
“Fact three,” Vanderveer continued. “The joint account
belonging to both Wessex and his wife was also emptied. Fact four, a suitcase
was missing from Wessex’s house along with a number of his clothes and personal
items, his passport and all his wife’s jewelry. Fact five. Wessex’s car was
found in the long-term parking lot at the airport.”
Theresa sniffed audibly and tears started in her eyes. “I
still can’t believe he’d do such a thing.”
“No more facts?” asked Janowski in a dry tone.
“Those are, I believe, the major ones. Have I missed any?”
“That you’re a pompous ass?” muttered Janowski.
“So everything pointed to Lee Wessex stealing everything he
could get his hands on and running for it,” Lizzie summed up. “Until now.”
“No one else could have stolen the money from our investment
firm,” Vanderveer repeated.
Janowski fixed him with a challenging stare. “No one?”
Vanderveer straightened. “Are you daring to suggest that I— I —would
do such a thing? Our clients’ funds are sacred.”
“Mr. Wessex must have stolen everything,” Theresa said
softly. She sounded broken. “Then someone stole it all from him. He should
never have done such a terrible thing.”
For once we were all silent.
“A murder of opportunity,” Janowski said at last. “Someone
probably saw him take off with the charity funds and killed him for them then
found they’d really hit the jackpot.”
“An interesting theory,” said Sarkisian from just behind me.
He laid a hand on my shoulder, which was the only thing that kept me from
jumping a foot off the stool and scattering dogs. The man moves as silently as
a proverbial cat. Not a specific cat, mind you. They tend to be clumsy little
beasts and make an incredible racket for their size.
Connie Wessex, all aging sultry allure, strolled in from the
direction of the stage, her stiletto heels clicking on the wood floor. Pete
must have let them in the main entrance. “Hello, Edward. Are you telling
everyone what happened?”
He looked down the length of his classically straight nose.
“I was merely stating the facts.”
Connie’s eyes flashed and she opened
designer suit drew one’s attention to him at once. He appeared perfectly
styled, from the top of his graying brown hair to the toes of his wing-tipped
leather shoes. His piercing green eyes seemed to take us all in and file us for
later consideration.
Theresa gasped. Her hand, still holding her steno pad and
pen, fluttered to her chest.
“You all right?” Lizzie asked her.
Theresa took a shuddering breath. “He-he just startled me.
Hello, Mr. Vanderveer.”
“Theresa.” The man inclined his head toward her.
What was that all about, I wondered?
“Fact one,” Edward Vanderveer said in precise tones. “All of
the fund-raising money disappeared on the night of the Fourth last year.”
“Was stolen, Ed,” Lizzie corrected. An undercurrent of
dislike touched her words.
Vanderveer held up a manicured hand. “Disappeared, for now,
Lizzie. Fact two. Our company’s money vanished the day before, although I
didn’t know about it until the banks reopened on the fifth. And no one but Lee
and I could withdraw funds from our business’s account. You are still, as you
were then, Theresa, in the clear.”
I found his precise tones irritating. I suppose precision
was what a person would want in their financial advisor but coming into contact
with him on a daily basis would have driven me crazy. With the sinking
sensation his recitation was going to take awhile, I looked around, spotted a
stool and settled onto it. At once the three-legged Mazda tried to scramble
into my lap. I’m a sucker for fur of any species so I scooped the hefty armload
up and let him settle. As if that were a signal, three of the poodles joined
us, though Roomba continued her nonstop circling of the floorboards with
several of the other poodles following her.
“Fact three,” Vanderveer continued. “The joint account
belonging to both Wessex and his wife was also emptied. Fact four, a suitcase
was missing from Wessex’s house along with a number of his clothes and personal
items, his passport and all his wife’s jewelry. Fact five. Wessex’s car was
found in the long-term parking lot at the airport.”
Theresa sniffed audibly and tears started in her eyes. “I
still can’t believe he’d do such a thing.”
“No more facts?” asked Janowski in a dry tone.
“Those are, I believe, the major ones. Have I missed any?”
“That you’re a pompous ass?” muttered Janowski.
“So everything pointed to Lee Wessex stealing everything he
could get his hands on and running for it,” Lizzie summed up. “Until now.”
“No one else could have stolen the money from our investment
firm,” Vanderveer repeated.
Janowski fixed him with a challenging stare. “No one?”
Vanderveer straightened. “Are you daring to suggest that I— I —would
do such a thing? Our clients’ funds are sacred.”
“Mr. Wessex must have stolen everything,” Theresa said
softly. She sounded broken. “Then someone stole it all from him. He should
never have done such a terrible thing.”
For once we were all silent.
“A murder of opportunity,” Janowski said at last. “Someone
probably saw him take off with the charity funds and killed him for them then
found they’d really hit the jackpot.”
“An interesting theory,” said Sarkisian from just behind me.
He laid a hand on my shoulder, which was the only thing that kept me from
jumping a foot off the stool and scattering dogs. The man moves as silently as
a proverbial cat. Not a specific cat, mind you. They tend to be clumsy little
beasts and make an incredible racket for their size.
Connie Wessex, all aging sultry allure, strolled in from the
direction of the stage, her stiletto heels clicking on the wood floor. Pete
must have let them in the main entrance. “Hello, Edward. Are you telling
everyone what happened?”
He looked down the length of his classically straight nose.
“I was merely stating the facts.”
Connie’s eyes flashed and she opened
Similar Books
