Come Fly With Me (23 page)

“It,
um,
it
looks
great
here...,”
she
stammered.
It
was
unnerving
to
think
a
small
part
of
her
shared
this
office
with
Alex
every
day.
She
poured
her
soul
into
her
paintings—each
one
felt
like
a
living,
breathing
entity
to
her.
She
fought
to
get
her
bearings
and
smoothed
her
pencil
skirt
in
a
nervous
gesture,
as
if
to
remind
herself
that
she
was
still
fully
clothed
despite
how
exposed
she
felt.

“So,
what
were
we
talking
about?”
Allison
asked,
drawing
a
blank
on
the
earlier
thread
of
the
conversation.

“You
look
spooked—are
you
okay?”
Alex
asked.

“I’m
fine,
really,
just
exhausted
with
the
extra
workload,
nothing
more,”
she
turned
to
leave.

“I’m
going
home
next
weekend
for
my
mother’s
sixty-fifth
birthday
party.
You’re
welcome
to
join
me,”
Alex
said.

“What?”
Oh
right—Emily’s
brilliant
idea,
she
remembered.
She
felt
panicked
and
vulnerable
and
wanted
to
leave
the
office
at
once,
but
she
forced
herself
to
smile.
“Yes,
of
course.
I’ll
get
back
to
you
on
that.”

****

She
passed
by
Brian
Costello's
office
and
suddenly
realized
the
CFO
had
sent
her
an
email
earlier
asking
her
to
stop
by
when
she
had
a
free
moment.
The
door
was
ajar,
and
she
tentatively
poked
her
head
in
while
knocking.

"Oh,
Ms.
Ross.
I'm
so
glad
you're
here,"
he
whispered.
"I
have
an
important
and
rather
delicate
matter
to
discuss
with
you."
He
said
this
as
he
walked
around
behind
her
and
closed
the
door
firmly.
"Please
excuse
the
cloak
and
dagger
routine,
but
the
walls
have
ears."

Allison
wondered
if
he
had
any
more
hackneyed
phrases
up
his
sleeve
because
her
patience
was
worn
thin.
Alex
had
her
very
much
on
edge.

"Shortly
before
your
father's
passing
I
came
across
some
accounting
discrepancies.
I
never
had
the
opportunity
to
fully
discuss
them
with
him,
but
in
light
of
the
recent
events,
it
seemed
prudent
to
bring
them
to
your
attention.
The
amount
didn't
add
up
to
anything
major,
a
few
thousand
here
and
there,
nothing
to
raise
any
red
flags."

Allison
mentally
groaned.
"What
do
you
mean?
Do
we
need
a
new
accounting
program
or
is
someone
embezzling
money?"

"Well,
it
seemed
as
if
someone
was
cooking
the
books
and
benefitting
from
his
own
largesse.
It
was
trivial
stuff;
however,
the
trail
did
lead
directly
to
Bradley.
This
frankly
strikes
me
as
a
little
odd,
seeing
as
he
made
no
attempt
made
to
cover
his
tracks."

"Well,
he's
not
exactly
the
sharpest
tool
in
the
shed,"
Allison
said.
As
she
heard
her
own
words,
she
feared
for
her
sanity
and
was
anxious
to
end
the
conversation.
"What
steps
should
we
take
to
look
into
the
matter,
Brian?"

"It
seems
to
have
stopped
with
your
father's
death,"
he
said
simply.

"Don't
tell
me
you're
implying
my
father
embezzled
funds
from
his
own..."

"No,
no,
of
course
not.
I'm
only
saying
that
the
amounts
were
negligible,
totaling
fifteen
thousand
dollars
in
all.
Since
it
has
stopped
anyway,
I
suggest
perhaps
having
a
talk
with
Bradley
and
seeing
if
you
can
shake
anything
out
of
him."

"I'd
like
to
shake
some
sense
into
him,
but
I
don't
think
talking
to
him
is
going
to
reveal
anything.
Are
there
any
other
solutions?"

"We
could
always
call
in
a
forensic
accountant.
But,
that
means
he'd
freeze
the
company's
finances
and
then
if
anything
suspicious
would
turn
up,
the
police
would
have
to
be
contacted.
They
in
turn
would
seize
the
computers
of
all
the
involved
parties
and
in
my
opinion,
that
minuscule
amount
of
money
in
a
business
this
size
can
easily
be
chalked
up
as
miscellaneous
funds
and
none
the
wiser."

"So,"
she
took
a
deep
breath.
"You're
ultimately
suggesting
I
do
nothing."

"Correct."

"Well,
Brian,
this
has
been
illuminating.
I
appreciate
your
having
such
a
strong
grip
on
our
fiscal
health."

She
left
his
office
and
didn't
know
whether
to
laugh
or
cry.

“I
can’t
believe
you
made
me
stop
on
the
way
over
here
so
you
could
get
that.”
Allison
pointed
to
the
grease-stained
paper
bag
Alex
was
unwrapping.
“Ella
would
have
fixed
you
anything
you
wanted—‘
One only has to ask on a RossAir Jet’
.”
She
smiled
as
she
swung
her
hand
around
the
cabin
interior
and
ended
it
with
a
flourish.