As I flipped the phone closed Darren walked in. ‘‘Morning,’’ he said as he pulled out his chair. ‘‘You’re in early.’’
I tucked my phone into my purse. ‘‘Just eager to get to work,’’ I said.
‘‘Great. I have a closing this morning, and since you’re already familiar with how those work, I thought I’d partner you up with my loan processor. She can show you our software and get you familiar with our desktop underwriting system.’’
‘‘Perfect,’’ I said with a broad grin. This spying gig was turning out to be easier than I thought.
Fifteen minutes later I was seated with a perky blonde named Bree. ‘‘This is your second day?’’ she asked me as I pulled my chair closer to her computer.
‘‘Yeah. You guys do things a little differently than we did them at the bank I worked at,’’ I said.
Bree gave me a wry smile. ‘‘I’m sure we do,’’ she said. ‘‘I’ve been here for almost a year now. Before that I worked as a paralegal for a real estate law firm that tanked.’’
‘‘There are a lot of businesses doing that these days,’’ I said, thinking of my own practice.
‘‘It’s this crappy economy,’’ Bree grumbled. ‘‘My husband was an engineer for Chrysler, making great money. He was downsized last year and hasn’t been able to find work since.’’
‘‘That’s tough,’’ I said, automatically turning my intuition on. ‘‘Must make it difficult for the two of you to get along, huh?’’ I was sensing some major tension in Bree’s marriage.
‘‘You said it. It’s been all on me since he got laid off. I’ve had to take on extra work here, and thank God I’ve also got Darren. He’s been slipping me a little on the side and I swear it’s the only way we can pay our bills.’’
I frowned. There was nothing good happening in Bree’s energy. I sensed that she was pushing the ethical envelope and that she was in way over her head. I also sensed that she and her husband were separating—soon. ‘‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,’’ I said. ‘‘Now, how about you let me enter a loan or two so I can get used to your software?’’
Several hours later we broke for lunch, and I was damn happy to get away from the monotony of data entry. Bree offered to have lunch with me, but I begged off, saying I had an errand to run. Hurrying to my car, I called Candice the moment I locked the door. ‘‘What’s happening?’’ she asked me.
‘‘Did you get my text?’’
‘‘Yep. Want to explain who they are?’’
I told her about the morning confrontation with Benzie and Sheldon, and where I’d gotten the other names. When I’d finished she said, ‘‘Okay, Abs, I’ll run these and see what I can come up with.’’
‘‘Cool. I’ll check in with you later.’’ I did the drive-thruat Burger King, happy that I could finally order a Whopper and fries without feeling guilty, thanks to all my gym workouts. I ate in my car on the way back to the mortgage company, dreading another long afternoon.
I beat Bree back to her desk, and smiled as I glanced at my watch. It was twenty to one, so I figured I probably had a good buffer before she made her way back to work. I sat down at her desk and pulled the paperwork on one of the loans we had already entered close to me, thinking that if someone walked up it would look like I was entering the data. And if Bree came back early, I could always say that I was just going over the application one more time.
Clicking on the keyboard, I headed to the main menu, found the search field I needed and entered Lutz, Bruce. There was no match, but several other Lutzes came up, all with different first names.
Next I tried Walter McDaniel, and the message Check Version Three flashed in front of me. ‘‘What Version Three?’’ I asked the screen quietly. It didn’t reply, so I clicked out of that.
Thinking for a minute, I decided to try Ben Zimmerman’s name. That was a bust. ‘‘No such record,’’ the computer said.
‘‘Okay,’’ I whispered, ‘‘how about this?’’ I typed Wolfe, Dick and a new screen came up. It asked me for a password. ‘‘Interesting,’’ I muttered and quickly clicked off the name. I also tried Jacob, Sheldon, and I got the same request for a password. Finally I went with Bree Mills, and a loan application came up right away. ‘‘So not all of the employee loans are password-protected,’’ I muttered.
Just then my radar buzzed a warning, and I glanced at the little clock in the corner of the computer. It was five to one. Quickly, I logged out and closed the loan file I’d had in front of me. No sooner had I put it in the rack next to Bree’s desk than I saw her enter the room. ‘‘Hey,’’ she said as she approached with an armload of folders. ‘‘Sheldon just gave me this stack. Feel like entering them?’’
I took the armload from Bree and we got to work. When I got to the second to last loan, I was surprised to see the name Carmen Perez on the application. ‘‘Huh,’’ I said as I typed in the name.
‘‘What?’’ Bree asked.
‘‘Sheldon works fast,’’ I said. ‘‘Ben Zimmerman just gave him this woman’s name.’’
Bree lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘‘You really shouldn’t talk about where Sheldon gets his leads,’’ she said.
‘‘Why?’’
Bree looked around nervously. ‘‘You just shouldn’t,’’ she said.
‘‘Okay,’’ I conceded. But in the back of my mind I continued to wonder what the big deal was. I looked closely at the address as I was typing and memorized it, then noted the approximate value of the house and made a mental note of that as well. When I was done entering the loan data I told Bree that I had to go to the little girls’ room, and while I was there I sent a text message to Candice with the address and the value, again telling her I’d explain later.
Finally, at five thirty, Bree called it quits. ‘‘I’ve got to go pick up my son from day care. Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.’’
‘‘Do you think I’ll be sitting with you again?’’ I asked.
Bree nodded. ‘‘You caught on really fast, but most of the loan officers train with a processor for a couple of days, then with a closer, then an underwriter. Finally, they go back to their mentor—Darren, in your case.’’
‘‘Ah,’’ I said with an inward groan. With my background, I already knew the ins and outs of processing, underwriting, and closing. This was going to be one long week. ‘‘I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow afternoon. Do you think it’ll be okay to only spend a half day with you?’’
‘‘Should be fine. We can send Darren an e-mail in the morning, but he’s really cool, so you should be good to go.’’
I said good-bye to Bree in the parking garage and pointed my car toward home. Eggy had been all alone again today, and I felt bad for the little guy, since I usually made time in my day to stop off and let him out around lunchtime. That is, I did when I used to set my own schedule.
After taking care of his needs, I changed and went to my office. Candice wasn’t in when I got there. ‘‘Bummer,’’ I said when I read the note from her that said she had a dinner meeting with a prospective client and that she’d call me later.
I ordered up some pasta from the Italian restaurant downstairs and ate at my desk while I sifted through my spreadsheet and typed in names and addresses for my big mailing campaign. At ten o’clock I heard a key in the front door and saw Candice come in. ‘‘Hey,’’ I said, blinking my tired eyes a few times.
‘‘You look like crap,’’ she said to me. ‘‘You been in front of that computer all night?’’
I rubbed my eyes and said, ‘‘All day and all night. But I’m almost done with the list. I figure I can start sending out the postcards by this weekend.’’
‘‘How many are you sending?’’
I turned to my spreadsheet. ‘‘I’ve got nearly a thousand so far and a good three hundred or so left to enter.’’
‘‘That should be good for business.’’
‘‘I hope you’re right, Candice, ’cuz I can’t continue this daily grind. I
swear I’m bored outta my gourd.’’
Candice came into my office and took a seat. ‘‘I know what you mean. I love being my own boss. No more sitting at my desk trying to look busy.’’
‘‘I thought you were the busiest investigator at your old firm,’’ I said.
‘‘I was. But the owner flooded his own market with investigators. He made a percentage on every single case that came in, so the more investigators, the merrier his take. We were climbing all over each other and there were too few cases to go around. Out here, the market is ripe for the picking.’’
‘‘So your meeting went well tonight?’’
‘‘Very. A guy who’s got a booming software business wants to expand, and he wants me to do his background checks.’’
My radar hummed. ‘‘What’s his connection to Texas?’’
Candice smiled. ‘‘The company’s home base is in San Antonio.’’
‘‘You’ll get the deal,’’ I said confidently. ‘‘He liked you.’’
‘‘I’m really digging this partnership,’’ Candice said. ‘‘I get all these little free tidbits. Dutch must love dating you.’’
I sighed. ‘‘Not lately,’’ I admitted. ‘‘I’d be willing to wager that right about now he’s feeling like I’ve ditched him.’’
‘‘Have you?’’
‘‘No,’’ I said. ‘‘I just need to reclaim my independence.’’Quickly switching topics, I asked, ‘‘Did you manage to dig up anything on those names that I sent you?’’
‘‘As a matter of fact, I did,’’ said Candice, pulling a folder out of her shoulder bag. ‘‘I’m not sure if any of them mean anything, but this is what I’ve got. Ben Zimmerman owns Benzie’s Bond Agency down on Eight Mile and Gratiot. He lives about three blocks from there, and according to all the data I’ve looked at, the guy is squeaky. No criminal record, owns his own home—and it’s paid for. He’s got clean credit too. The only bump in the road I could find was a pretty nasty divorce back in ninety-eight. He owes a few bucks in back child support and alimony, but as far as I can tell he’s clean.’’
‘‘That’s interesting,’’ I said, thinking back as I made the connection to what he’d told me earlier about Sheldon’s bond. ‘‘He told me that he posted the bond for Sheldon Jacob, so if he did that, Sheldon must have a record.’’
Candice nodded. ‘‘And how,’’ she said as she flipped forward a few pages. ‘‘Sheldon Jacob is one bad dude, Abby. He’s got a record that goes back to the late seventies, everything from extortion to armed robbery to assault to drug dealing. Word is he used to supply a lot of the old Motown groups with their drugs.’’
‘‘You’re kidding,’’ I said. ‘‘He strikes me as a wormy sort of guy, not someone I would expect to see associating with the in crowd.’’
‘‘Maybe his ten years in prison had something to do with making him a little more wormy, a little less popular.’’
‘‘He spent ten years in prison?’’
‘‘Yep, for possession with intent to deliver. And get this—he got out right before Walter was murdered.’’
‘‘What about his brother?’’
‘‘Ron? Same rap sheet, but he beat a lot of the charges. Zimmerman’s also posted bond on him.’’
‘‘Interesting,’’ I said. ‘‘Zimmerman gets around.’’
‘‘He does a healthy business, from what I can gather.’’
‘‘What about the other names I gave you—the two women? Anything on them?’’
Candice turned a page in her file. ‘‘There’s no criminal history for them, but I did find an interesting connection to Zimmerman.’’
‘‘What’s that?’’
‘‘Both have sons who’ve had run-ins with the law, and guess who secured bond for them before trial?’’
‘‘I’ll take Ben Zimmerman for two hundred, Alex,’’ I said.
‘‘You would be two hundred dollars richer,’’ Candice answered with a wink.
‘‘I’m assuming the houses were the collateral for the bond?’’
Candice nodded. ‘‘Yep. That must be how Zimmerman is getting these lists to Sheldon. The women come in, want to bail out their boys, and he jots down their info to pass to Jacob once the trial’s over.’’
‘‘Wonder what’s in it for Zimmerman,’’ I said.
Candice closed the file. ‘‘Gotta be some kind of a kickback,’’ she said. ‘‘He’s certainly not the type to do it for the goodwill.’’
‘‘I saw the loan application for one of the women, Carmen Perez. She’s taking a ton of money out of her equity.’’
‘‘She paying off debt?’’
‘‘Nope. She’s only got one credit card, and that has a small balance on it.’’
‘‘Maybe she’s investing it.’’
My left side got thick and heavy. ‘‘I don’t think so,’’ I said. ‘‘She’s got no savings to speak of and no retirement account.’’
‘‘Doesn’t mean she can’t start now with the cash-out of the equity in her house,’’ Candice said reasonably.
I nodded and tried to stifle a yawn. ‘‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed that that’s what it is.’’
‘‘I think you need to go home and get some rest,’’ Candice said, eyeing me critically. ‘‘Why don’t we skip the gym tomorrow morning and hit it after we get back from Jackson?’’
‘‘Sounds good,’’ I said, clicking my computer off. ‘‘Are we meeting here?’’
‘‘Yeah. Meet me in the parking garage at noon and we’ll take my car.’’
‘‘Sounds good,’’ I said again, wearily. Candice and I parted at my Mazda and I drove home, dog-tired. Eggy greeted me with a rousing round of running in circles followed by a few good yaps. The poor guy had to be getting lonely with all the time I was spending away from home.
At eleven o’clock I crawled into bed and was about to turn out the light when my phone rang. ‘‘Hey, cowboy,’’ I said sleepily.
‘‘Did I wake you?’’ he asked.
‘‘Nope, but I am getting ready to turn in.’’
‘‘I hadn’t heard from you all day,’’ he said. ‘‘I even stopped by your office around noon, but you weren’t around.’’
‘‘I was running errands,’’ I said easily. ‘‘Next time give me a heads-up on the cell and I’ll meet you for lunch.’’
‘‘I wanted to let you know that we nailed Max Goodyear today.’’
‘‘The guy from the waterworks?’’
‘‘Yep. And I have you to thank,’’ he said with a chuckle. ‘‘We put those surveillance cameras up in his office, and sure enough, we caught him this morning coming into one of the comptroller’s offices, picking up her keyboard, and jotting something down from a piece of paper she had there. Later we learned that the woman who sits there writes down the new password every week and hides it under her keyboard.’’
‘‘He’s been stealing it all this time,’’ I said.
‘‘Uh-huh. We tapped his computer too, so the moment he logged in and used the password to get to the account and siphon off a few grand we had him.’’
‘‘Did you arrest him?’’
‘‘Yep. One of the most gratifying busts I’ve ever made,’’ Dutch said. ‘‘And I’m taking you to dinner to celebrate.’’
I gave a loud yawn into the receiver. ‘‘Sounds good, Dutch. Let’s plan on Friday night after my closing on Fern, okay?’’
‘‘It’s a date,’’ he said and then there was a pause before he added, ‘‘I miss you, Edgar.’’
I smiled. ‘‘You’d better,’’ I purred. ‘‘See you Friday, cowboy.’’ I disconnected. I rolled over onto my side with a sigh of contentment. I loved that Dutch and I were in such a good place, and just as I had that thought, I heard a faint buzz from my intuition that bothered me. I had a feeling that there was trouble ahead for the two of us, and for the life of sleepy old me, I couldn’t figure out why.
Chapter Seven
I slept in unti
l the last possible moment before bolting out of bed, taking a quick shower, and dashing out the door to Universal Mortgage. I made it there by eight thirty and still beat Darren by ten minutes.
‘‘Morning,’’ he said happily when he saw me.
‘‘Morning,’’ I replied. ‘‘Should I go sit with Bree again?’’
‘‘Actually,’’ he said, ‘‘I have to shoot out to Bloomfield Hills to take a loan application. Want to ride shotgun?’’
‘‘That would be great,’’ I said with relief. I was going to die of boredom if I had to enter one more loan into the system. ‘‘But I have to be back by lunchtime. I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.’’
‘‘Nothing serious, I hope?’’
‘‘No. Just my allergist. I have awful allergies.’’ Man, I was good at making stuff up on the fly—as long as it wasn’t to my boyfriend.
‘‘No problem,’’ Darren said. ‘‘Come on, let’s go make some money.’’
I followed Darren out to his car and paused before getting in. ‘‘Nice,’’ I said as he clicked the locks for the gray Mercedes.
‘‘Work here for a while and you could be driving one of these babies too, Abby.’’
‘‘Good to know,’’ I said, forcing a smile. I got in and Darren pulled out of the space, cruising down the ramp and into traffic.
We’d gone about three blocks when my crew sent an intuitive alert to me. I had the feeling that I needed to be very aware of my surroundings. I sat up straight and looked around. To my right, I saw a familiar face in the car next to us. ‘‘Oh, shit!’’ I said as my boyfriend locked eyes with me.
‘‘What’s the matter?’’ Darren asked. Without thinking, I dove out of sight, my head landing in Darren’s lap. ‘‘Abby, what the—’’
‘‘Drive!’’ I yelled at him. ‘‘Just drive away!’’ I felt his leg muscles tense and the car accelerated. Just then my cell phone rang. Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled it free and worked it up to my ear. ‘‘Hello?’’ I said, craning my neck to speak into the phone.
‘‘You okay?’’ asked Dutch.
‘‘Fine,’’ I said lightly. ‘‘Why?’’