Seducing the Heiress (15 page)

Chapter 24

R
obert walked into the gray, windowless concrete room that the team often used for information-gathering sessions, as he called them, to find a rumple-shirted, blue-jeans-wearing Butch Johnson pacing the room. The man stopped long enough to acknowledge Robert's presence and glare at Charles, the tall, stocky, caramel-skinned senior agent Robert had assigned to retrieve Butch from that sordid little spot in New Orleans and bring him to their offices.

“Thank you for accepting the invitation to join us. This shouldn't take long. The sooner you answer my questions, the faster we'll be able to get you back to the Big Easy,” Robert explained, wanting to wrap this all up in the next few minutes. Robert didn't want to go another day without telling Farrah the truth about everything, including the fact that he loved her.

Butch stopped in his tracks and stood facing Robert with his arms folded. “Invitation,” he taunted, slanting his head slightly. He shot an accusatory glare to Charles and pointed at him. “That body builder wannabe wearing your uniform showed up to my place and told me I had five minutes to get into his vehicle or he'd handcuff me and drag me out by my hair,” he said, dropping his arms. “I've been stuck in this godforsaken room for nearly twelve hours. Does that sound like a damn invitation to you?”

Robert turned and faced Charles. “Really?”

“What?” Charles shrugged. “You told me to get here right away, no matter what.”

“I meant to offer him a payment for his time,” Robert explained.

Meeks entered the room just in time to hear Butch's complaint and Robert's response. “I see you have everything under control as usual,” he said, leaning back against the door.

“Somebody said something about money?” Butch spoke up, his anger seeming to dissipate.

Charles looked at both Robert and Meeks. “He's had bathroom breaks and he's been fed,” he explained.

Robert turned back toward Butch and gestured to the chair across from the door. “Have a seat.”

“I'm fine, thanks,” he said, standing again with his arms folded over a bulky chest. “What's this about money?”

“I apologize for the confusion. We'll reimburse you for your time and inconvenience. Please sit.” Robert once again gestured toward the chair.

“I'm cool,” he said, waving off the request.

“When we were in New Orleans, you told us you were the middle man for Ruby Lee.”

“Yeah, that's right,” Butch said.

“What you failed to tell us was that Ruby Lee doesn't really exist,” Robert said.

Butch's eyes widened slightly. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he insisted.

“Oh, but I think you do,” Robert countered, cornering the table and moving past Charles until he stood in front of Butch. He was trying hard to keep his anger under control. “Ruby Lee isn't in anybody's database or on anybody's radar. And that account number you gave us led to one of our very own accounts.”

“Maybe Ruby Lee worked for your company like Alexia did,” Butch replied, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

Meeks frowned at the suggestion but remained silent.

“Did you not hear the man?” Charles asked, scowling at Butch. “Ruby Lee doesn't exist.”

“I think I'll take that seat after all,” Butch said, pulling out the chair and sitting down. Robert sat on the edge of the table in front of him.

Their guest sighed. “Look, all I know is someone calling themselves Ruby Lee contacted me about the job and putting them together with Alexia. They wired me two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to make the connection and from that point on, Alexia handled the specifics of the job with Ruby Lee directly.”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Charles said, shaking his head, his disbelief clear. “...for a connection?”

“And the forger, how did she connect with whoever did the work?” Meeks asked.

Butch hesitated before saying, “I...I don't know.”

Robert leaned forward and stared into Butch's eyes. “I'm losing my patience...and when I lose my patience, Charles loses his. When that happens, things won't work out well for you. Who's the forger?”

“I swear I don't know who she used,” he insisted. “She rejected everybody I tried to set her up with. She thought I was an idiot for thinking any of the people I offered up were any good. She said she'd take care of it. Apparently she has her own people.”

“Her own forger?” Robert replied, looking back at Meeks.

“What did she mean by that?” Charles asked, moving closer to the table.

“I don't know,” Butch shrugged. “I just assumed she already had someone.”

“Did you ever meet this Ruby Lee in person?” Robert asked.

“Just once, to get Alexia's final payment.”

“Can you describe her?” Meeks asked, crossing his arms.

“Not really. She wore a baseball hat, sunglasses, and she had a really great body.”

“Wonderful. That can be anybody,” Robert grumbled, rubbing his face with the back of his hand.

“Do you remember what she drove...a plate number perhaps?” Meeks inquired.

Butch smirked. “Yeah, a new red Mercedes, and the letters on the temporary plates were
R-E-D
.”

“How can you be so sure?” Robert asked, with a puckered brow.

“Because I remember thinking how funny it was that a curly-haired redhead was driving a red car with the letters
R-E-D
on the plates,” Butch explained, grinning.

“What?” Meeks snapped, pushing himself off the door.

Robert turned to face him. “That has to be a coincidence.”

* * *

Farrah entered her office to find Francine staring out the window, waiting for her. Her sister looked really sleek in a sleeveless deep green maternity dress that brought out the green in her eyes. “Good, you're here.” For a minute, Farrah felt underdressed, wearing their company's standard uniform. “You know, we really should have had a maternity uniform made for you.”

“Funny. Very funny. You said it was important. What's up?”

“You look great, by the way.”

“Now who's being a comedian?” Francine shot back.

“Have a seat,” Farrah said, gesturing to one of the chairs across from her desk.

Francine sat down and Farrah took the chair beside her. “What's going on, sis? Did something happen between you and Robert?”

In spite of the news she was about to share, Farrah couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. “Yes, but that's not what this is about,” she replied.

“Then what is this about?”

“Do you remember when we first joined the firm? You were an agent and I was fresh out of law school,” Farrah reminded.

“Of course I do. Daddy was both proud and scared.”

They shared a laugh.

“Yes, he was,” Farrah nodded. “Remember when we had that floating admin pool and everyone's assistant had to cover for each other?”

“Yeah, Paul hated that, too. Why?”

“There was a lady about mom's age, shoulder-length sandy hair. Her name was Ruthie Lee Rutherford. Remember her?”

Francine's gaze narrowed on her sister. “Vaguely, why?”

“I think she might be our Ruby Lee aka Lee Rugby.”

Francine's eyes widened. “What?”

“I think, somehow, some way, she's connected to all of this.”

Francine gave a dismissive wave. “No way. I'm sure Butch Johnson would have noticed if he was dealing with an older woman. He certainly would have told us that, too.”

“You didn't meet him. I have a feeling he wouldn't give up anything over the bare minimum. Besides, Alexia said Ruby Lee didn't have anything we could hold over her. Maybe that's because she's older and doesn't have anyone.”

“Everyone has someone,” Francine insisted.

“Ms. Ruthie didn't have any children. Although, she does have a husband...or at least she did.”

“Who has a husband?” Paul asked as he walked into the office holding three coffee mugs. “Two coffees and one hot chocolate.”

“Perfect timing,” Farrah said, accepting the cup he held out to her. “Paul, do you remember Ruthie Lee Rutherford? She was an assistant in that temporary pool we had about five years ago.”

“Yeah, I remember Ms. Ruthie.” Paul blew into his coffee. “Poor thing. But I think you're wrong. She never had a husband.”

“What? Why do you say that?” Farrah asked, looking up at him. “She told me she had a husband. He sent her flowers. I saw them.”

“I know. We all saw the flowers and gifts, but they weren't from her husband. That's just what she told everyone. She was a little off, but it had to be hell being someone's mistress for over twenty years, only to have him die on you,” Paul said before taking a sip of his coffee as he leaned against Farrah's desk. “Although rumor has it he left her pretty well off. Too bad she can't really enjoy it.”

Farrah and Francine shared a questioning look before turning their glares on Paul.

“What?” Farrah asked.

Paul placed his cup on the desk, then looked at both women. “You two really don't know?”

Both women shook their heads.

“Ruthie Lee Rutherford was the longtime mistress of former executive...turned board member...turned vendor...wait for it...Ted Jefferson.”

“Ted Jefferson!” Farrah leaned forward and placed her cup on the desk next to Paul's. “The same Ted Jefferson that's suing us?”

“Actually it's his son who's suing us,” Francine clarified.

Farrah glared at her sister. “Semantics.”

“Yep,” Paul said, shaking his head. “The same Ted Jefferson who embezzled money and tried to steal plans for several of our new security systems to cover his gambling debts.”

“
That's
why we fired him. Dad would never say why, not even when Ted died. He wouldn't even discuss it when his son filed this ridiculous suit. He said it was irrelevant,” Francine added.

“Irrelevant... How can he being a thief be irrelevant?”

Francine shrugged. “You know what Dad says. Forgiven misdeeds should be left in the past.”

“And if I remember correctly, Ruthie Lee Rutherford left the company right after he did,” Farrah confirmed.

“Yep,” Paul replied.

“Hell, if she thought her man was treated unfairly, she might want some type of revenge against the company,” Farrah stated.

“Wait... Your Dad got him help, and he repaid every dime he stole.”

“That must be why there's no record of him ever being arrested. Dad made sure the board never pressed charges,” Francine theorized, taking a healthy sip of her hot chocolate.

“He also cleaned up his act and went on to build a successful construction company,” Paul confirmed.

“If I remember correctly, we did business with him for years until he got sick and passed,” Francine offered. “What do either of them have to do with any of this?”

“I don't know. What I do know is that a slightly eccentric Ruthie Lee Rutherford, a woman that had a great deal of access when she was here and could've had a motive to want to do her former lover's company harm, told me that her
husband
called her Ruby Lee after her favorite flower.” Farrah held up her right hand and hunched her shoulders. “Now, that can't be a coincidence, and I think it's worth checking into.”

Chapter 25

“T
here's no way she could have had anything to do with any of this,” Robert said, pulling out his cell to send the incoming call to voice mail. “She's behind bars and that's where she'll stay.”

“Who are you talking about?” Charles asked.

“A crazy old girlfriend of Meeks's,” Robert replied.

“Jasmine Black,” Meeks said, his face twisted as though he was in pain. “Her obsession for me took it to a whole new level of crazy. From bailing out and buying a gun for someone we'd just put away so he could kill Francine to infiltrating our company to keep tabs on us, and from hiding behind and controlling stalkers to actually trying to kill Francine herself.”

After Jasmine's attempts were foiled, she'd been sent to jail and was currently awaiting trial.

“We both know how resourceful she can be, not to mention vengeful. She could have easily coordinated something like this,” Meeks insisted, pacing the room.

“But whoever pulled this off had to have been planning this for quite some time, long before Jasmine ever came on the scene.” Robert reached to stop his friend's movements. “Think about it. They planted someone in our organization to steal that info, and then planted bogus documents that would guarantee we'd lose the lawsuit, costing us millions. Their motive had to be something pretty significant. No offense, Meeks, but wanting you back in her life and her bed just doesn't seem like it's a big enough reason.”

“I agree,” Charles echoed. “No offense.” He held up both hands.

“I know she's diabolical, but this is a bit much even for Jasmine...even to have you,” Robert added.

“I hear you,” Meeks stated, pacing the room again. “But my gut is telling me that Jasmine is somehow mixed up in all this.”

“I know, but...it's a reach,” Robert said.

Meeks turned back to Butch. “When she delivered that last payment, did you talk to her?”

“Yeah, why?” he replied, frowning.

“Did she happen to speak with a Southern accent?” Robert asked.

Robert and Meeks held their breath as though their life depended on the next word out of Butch's mouth. “Yeah, she did.”

* * *

“Okay, say you're right,” Francine asked. “Say that this Ruthie Lee Rutherford is really Ruby Lee, aka Lee Rugby. What's her motive for doing any of this?”

“I'm wondering the same thing myself,” Paul asked.

“I don't know. Maybe she got pissed off when Dad booted her man out of the company. She might not have seen it as a way to help him.” Farrah got up, circled her desk and sat down. “It did take a while for him to get it together. She might have thought Dad and the company had abandoned him when he needed them the most. Who knows? All I'm saying is that we need to check her out.” Farrah turned on her computer and logged on to her system. “If someone went after my man, I'd do everything in my power to make things right.”

Francine and Paul looked at each other and smiled. “We know you would,” Francine teased.

Farrah glared at them before turning her attention back to the screen.

Paul took the seat she'd vacated. “What are you doing?”

“I'm running a quick background check and credit report for Ruthie Lee Rutherford. I want to see what she's been up to all these years.”

“What's the plan?” Paul questioned.

“I'm going to find out as much as I can about her, bring Robert up to speed and we'll go pay her a friendly visit.” Farrah clicked a few keys on her computer, navigating between multiple search engines and websites dedicated to the types of investigation she needed.

“I think the only thing you're going to find is a sweet, if somewhat sad, little old lady living without the love of her life.” Paul stretched out his legs and crossed them at his ankles.

“Farrah, I know you're going to do what you think is best, but I think you're barking up the wrong tree.” Francine reached for Paul's hand. “Help me up.”

Paul quickly obliged.

“Where are you going?” Farrah asked.

“We're interviewing night nannies. I'm sure you and Robert can handle this, but if not, let us know.” Francine kissed Paul on the cheek and blew Farrah a kiss before walking out of the office.

“What now?” Paul asked, returning to his seat and reaching for the stress ball that sat on the edge of Farrah's desk.

“Now we wait,” Farrah explained, leaning back in her chair.

“While we wait, care to tell me how your night went?” Paul asked, making his eyebrows dance.

Farrah smiled and released a slow breath.

“That good, huh?” Paul returned the stress ball to the desk. “I guess you won't be needing this anymore.”

Farrah giggled.

“Did you two finally confess your undying love for each other yet?”

“Not yet.”

“What the hell are you waiting for?” he shot back. “Please don't tell me that you—Ms. I Passed the Bar on the First Try, I Can Kick Butt Just as Good as Any Man and I Shoot Guns for the Fun of It—are still scared.”

“I just haven't had the chance...” Farrah started to explain when her computer signaled that the first report had come through. She browsed the report and as the words sank in, realization began to take hold. Farrah felt as though she'd been hit in the gut.

“Well, what's—?”

Farrah held up her index finger and Paul's voice trailed to a halt. He sat quietly, watching as Farrah read through the documents as several others were fed to her screen. She sent the reports to her printer and sat back into her chair.

“Well?” Paul asked again, sitting on the edge of his seat.

Farrah snatched several papers from the printer and handed them to him. She gave him a few moments to catch up.

“I knew it... Oh, no... Oh, my...”

“
Oh, my
is right.”

Paul ran his hands down his face a couple of times. “Are you sure this is correct? Is there any chance that it could be wrong?”

“We have access to some of the best networks in the world, you know that. Plus, I called in a favor from one of Felicia's friends at the CIA. It's right.” She tapped the edge of the third page. “Did you see the attachment?”

“Yeah, I saw it. I just don't understand how this is even possible. What are you going to do?”

“Where's Robert?” she asked, trying to keep her emotions in check.

“He's downstairs with Meeks in interrogation.”

“Interrogation... Why?” she asked, glancing back down at the papers she still held.

“It
is
called interrogation, so I'd assume they're...”

“Yes but my question is, who's in there with them?” she asked, frowning.

“I have no idea,” Paul said. “Jeremy just said Robert had whoever it is flown in last night. Charles and his team brought him up after midnight.”

Farrah got to her feet, picked up the reports and headed to the door. “Are you going to tell Francine?”

“Not yet,” she replied. “I want to talk to Robert and Meeks first.”

“No worries. My lips are sealed where Francine's concerned.” He pretended to close an imaginary zipper across his lips. “Looks like you might have been right after all,” Paul admitted.

Farrah slowly nodded. “That makes two of us.”