Lost and Found (31 page)

Luckily, the ideal candidate for the job was coming to dinner.

G
ardner frowned at the stack of printouts. “I’m not a forensic accountant. That’s a specialty field.”

“If you can’t get anything out of these, so be it,” Mack said. “But I’m betting that your inside knowledge of the Chatelaine-Post deal gives you an edge that an outside accountant wouldn’t have.”

“Maybe.” Gardner examined the printouts warily. “But no guarantees.”

“Understood,” Mack said.

Cady put one hand on the stack. “Just take a look at them. That’s all we’re asking.”

“I’ll do my best. But don’t count on any brilliant revelations. I’m a CPA, not Sherlock Holmes.”

“I still can’t believe that Aunt Vesta was running her own private little sting operation.” Sylvia stood up suddenly and began to pace the living room. “But it does explain some of her strange behavior during the last couple of months. Why didn’t she tell me what she suspected?”

“As far as we can figure out, she didn’t tell anyone except Hattie Woods; and the only reason she confided in Hattie was because she needed her help,” Cady said.

“Well, we all know that Vesta was nothing if not secretive and eccentric.” Sylvia shot Cady an angry look. “But that’s no excuse for you not telling us that you thought something was terribly wrong.”

“Maybe not,” Cady admitted. “But until we stumbled
onto Hattie Woods, I didn’t have anything to back up my concerns. I was afraid everyone would conclude that I was off my rocker. I didn’t think my theories would be welcome.”

“I can’t say that this one is particularly welcome,” Sylvia muttered. “But given the evidence, we’re going to have to deal with it. You’re sure that Jonathan Arden is working with someone inside Austrey-Post?”

“We’re not positive, but it sure looks like Aunt Vesta was certain of it,” Cady said. “In fact, she may have wondered if the problem went all the way to the top. It would explain why she didn’t go straight to Stanford Felgrove with her suspicions. It also explains why she postponed the merger vote.”

Sylvia frowned. “She thought Felgrove was working with Arden?”

“Or maybe she figured the inside contact was Randall,” Gardner offered a little too helpfully. “That would explain why she kept quiet. She always had a blind spot where he was concerned. She would have been very hesitant to implicate him.”

Mack winced and shook his head at Gardner in silent warning. But it was too late. Cady and Sylvia had already turned on him.

“I refuse to believe that Randall knows anything about this,” Sylvia snapped.

Gardner’s expression hardened. “Don’t count on good old Uncle Randall being an innocent bystander.”

“I’m with Sylvia on this,” Cady said quietly. “Randall knows nothing about the forgeries.”

“Neither of you can see clearly where Randall Post is concerned. I know it’s hard to envision an old childhood friend as a criminal, but that doesn’t mean he’s not guilty.” Gardner looked at Mack for backup.

Mack shrugged. “I don’t think we can rule Post out. Not yet, at any rate.”

It was his turn to be on the receiving end of two quelling stares.

“Let’s try some logic here.” Cady stopped beside the desk and tapped the stack of printouts. “Randall is one-hundred-percent focused on the merger. It’s very, very important to him. Trust me on this. I honestly don’t think he would bother to expend a lot of time and energy on an elaborate forgery scam that would put his plans to link Chatelaine’s and Austrey-Post at risk.”

“That leaves Stanford,” Sylvia snapped. “I can’t say I like the man but I have to admit that the same logic applies. Why would he take the risk of running forgeries and frauds through Austrey-Post at a time when we’re taking a close look at his books?”

Gardener interrupted. “I can give you one good reason why either Randall or Stanford might have resorted to running frauds through Austrey-Post.”

“What reason?” Cady asked instantly.

“To cover up a cash flow problem that might have made us call off the merger,” Gardner said.

There was a short, brittle silence. Cady and Sylvia exchanged glances.

“Good point,” Sylvia said. She gestured impatiently. “I’m the hot-shot CEO around here. I should have thought of that myself.”

“You’re a little too emotionally involved with the situation,” Gardner said. “Hard to get a clear take on it when you’re dealing with everything from Vesta’s estate to the possibility that your old friend Randall Post is a crook. Not to mention the merger itself.”

“And that kind of insight is why we need you to take a real close look at the information in those printouts, Gardner,” Mack said. “You not only have the financial experience to make sense of the data, you’ve also got a different viewpoint.”

Gardner rubbed the back of his neck. “You know,
when you think about it, Stanford and Randall might both be involved in running those fakes through their company. If Austrey-Post is trying to cover up a cash flow problem, they’d both have a vested interest in making the bottom line look good for a potential merger.”

“Stanford, maybe,” Cady said. “But not Randall.”

“Absolutely not Randall,” Sylvia echoed.

Gardner raised his eyes to the ceiling and said nothing. Mack opted for the diplomatic approach. “With any luck, those financial records might give us a clue about what is really going on at Austrey-Post.”

Gardner, appearing far more enthusiastic than he had a moment ago, reached for the stack of printouts. “This is going to take awhile but I’ll see what I can do.”

Sylvia turned to pin Mack with a searching look. “I don’t understand where you fit into this picture. You told us you were a business consultant. But you sound more like some sort of private investigator. What’s going on here?”

Cady answered before Mack could get his mouth open. “Mack does a lot of consulting work in the field of lost and stolen art,” she said.

Sylvia looked skeptical. “You’re a security consultant?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “I deal in information. As Cady said, I trace lost, stolen and missing art and antiques.”

“And what do you do when you find the missing items?” she asked coldly.

“I attempt to recover them for my clients.”

“How?”

“Sometimes it’s as simple as arranging a negotiated buyback or a trade. Sometimes it’s a little more complicated.”

“What it boils down to is that you’re a private investigator,” Sylvia snapped.

“I think of myself as more of a go-between.”

“Nonsense. You’re an investigator.” Sylvia turned to
Cady. “You brought him here because you knew that something was wrong, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know for certain that anything was wrong,” Cady said defensively. “I just had a feeling.”

“A feeling?” Sylvia groaned. “You sound more like Aunt Vesta every day. What exactly inspired this
feeling
you got?”

Cady cleared her throat and looked at Mack for help. “It’s a little hard to explain.”

“She thinks your aunt was murdered,” Mack said bluntly.

Sylvia and Gardner gazed at him, dumbfounded.

“Sonofagun,” Gardner said half under his breath. “Never even considered that possibility.” “
Murdered
.” Sylvia looked at Cady. “What in the world made you think that someone killed her?”

“I don’t know.” Cady walked stiffly toward the windows.

Mack watched her. “That’s not quite true.”

She sighed. “Okay, I thought her death was a little too convenient.”

“Convenient?” Gardner prompted.

“Because of the merger,” Cady said. “She had let it be known that she was thinking of postponing next month’s vote of the board. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if maybe someone didn’t like the fact that she might be reconsidering the deal. Aunt Vesta was an unknown quantity. Unpredictable. Eccentric. And she had the power to cancel the merger altogether if she chose to do so.”

“Do you realize what you’re saying?” Sylvia demanded. “Surely you didn’t believe that someone murdered Aunt Vesta just to ensure that the merger went through?”

“Okay, it was a little over the top,” Cady muttered. “And as it turns out, I was probably wrong. If she was
murdered, it’s far more likely that it was because she stumbled onto Jonathan Arden’s scam.”

Sylvia tried to compose herself. “But the fact that the possibility of murder even occurred to you in the first place—”

“Certainly didn’t strike anyone else in the family,” Gardner said dryly.

Cady kept her face averted. She started to rub her palms up and down her arms. Understanding knifed through Mack.

He straightened and went to stand behind her. He rested his hands on her shoulders.

“It was because she drowned, wasn’t it?” he said. “Because you nearly died the same way that day at the lake when you were fourteen. That was why her death disturbed you so deeply and made you start asking questions.”

She hunched her shoulders. “Maybe. But the crucial factor was the timing. I just couldn’t convince myself that her death had nothing to do with the merger. I never even considered the possibility of a forgery ring.”

“If she had succeeded in exposing the scam, that would certainly have squelched all possibility of a business alliance between Chatelaine’s and Austrey-Post.” Gardner looked thoughtful. “I doubt if Felgrove could have found any other suitor to take the place of Chatelaine’s. Hell, maybe the merger does qualify as a motive.”

Sylvia whirled around. “Don’t tell me you’re buying into Cady’s murder conspiracy theory?”

Gardner shrugged. “Money has always been a motive for murder and there’s a lot of cash involved in this deal.”

Cady turned around to face him. “Thanks for your support. At least, I think that was a show of support.”

“Forget it. That’s what family is all about, I think.”

T
he Langworth house was a huge, colonnaded affair perched high on the hillside. It commanded an even more impressive view than the one available from the villa, sweeping from Tiburon to the Golden Gate Bridge. Cady stood in front of the windowed wall of the living room and watched the sun dance on the bay. The light seemed to strike the water and bounce off, never piercing the surface. Or the interior of this big house either, she thought.

The silence behind her grew heavier. The housekeeper who had ushered her into this room a few minutes ago had vanished.

She turned away from the view to examine the vast chamber in which she stood. The looming hulks of a staggering quantity of art and antiques filled every space, seeming to blot up any available light. The brooding shadows locked into the old pieces cast a dark spell on the entire household. Maybe it was the solemn miasma of impending death that jangled her nerves. The stuff pooled like an invisible fog in the room.

She felt jittery. Not a good sign. She glanced at her watch.

“Thank you for coming here on such short notice,” Brooke Langworth said from the doorway.

Cady jumped a little at the sound of the soft, throaty voice. She turned quickly. Randall’s great love was a tall woman with patrician features. Her honey-colored hair was arranged in a chignon that emphasized her taut, drawn expression. She wore a pale cream silk blouse and a pair of elegantly cut camel trousers. Gold glinted discreetly at her ears and around her throat.

“I got your message,” Cady said. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Langworth?”

“Please call me Brooke. Won’t you sit down?”

Cady sank cautiously down onto the edge of the sofa. She hoped Brooke had not summoned her here for the purpose of getting a professional appraisal of the collection of old objects that were eating up all the light.

“Would you care for coffee?” Brooke asked.

“No, thank you.” Cady made a show of looking at her watch again. “I’m a little pressed for time.”

“Yes, of course. I won’t keep you long. I realize this is difficult for you. It’s not easy for me, either.”

Please don’t ask me to put a value on your collection. Your husband isn’t even dead yet, and besides, I don’t chase consignments from the nearly departed
. But if that wasn’t why Brooke had called, there could be only one other possible reason.

“Does this have something to do with Randall?” Cady asked cautiously.

“How did you guess?”

“Randall is the only thing that you and I have in common.”

“Yes, of course.” Brooke continued, “I asked you to come here today because I’m extremely worried about
him. I know that in spite of the fiasco of your marriage, he is your friend and you want what’s best for him.”

“To a point.”

“You do realize that he is obsessed with a merger between Austrey-Post and Chatelaine’s?”

“I know it’s important to him, yes.”

“More than just important, I’m afraid. He is consumed by the goal of combining the two firms. I hesitate to say this, but I don’t know where else to turn.” Brooke paused, as though gathering herself. “I’m afraid of what he might do if the merger doesn’t go through.”

Cady stilled. “What are you talking about?”

“Randall is convinced that the merger is the only way he can gain control of Austrey-Post and rid himself of his stepfather. He hates Stanford Felgrove. I’m sure you’re aware of that. If the merger fails—”

“What exactly are you afraid of, Brooke?”

“Randall has been through a great deal of stress in recent years. The divorce was hard on him.”

“It wasn’t exactly a piece of cake for me, either.”

Brooke flushed. “No, of course not. I realize that it was traumatic for both of you. But it was different in your case.”

“Really?”

“We both know that you weren’t deeply in love with Randall and it’s obvious that there was no one else for you. Your heart was not broken. Granted, the marriage was a mistake, but it was one you could correct easily enough.”

“Just one of those annoying little speed bumps on the road of life?”

The evident strain on Brooke’s attractive face grew more acute. “I’m not trying to make light of what happened. But you must realize that the marriage and divorce were much harder on Randall than they were on you?”