She skimmed through the contents, mostly Excel spreadsheets, which she figured contained mundane accounting information on the subdivision development and started to put it back. Nothing on the sheets identified exactly what the figures represented. After another glance up toward Jeremy’s door, she decided to scrutinize a couple of pages. As she scanned down the first sheet, she noted entries marked “California,” with large sums next to each entry. Deposits? On the next sheet were listed expenses for dirt moving, concrete, and building materials. She recognized the debit entries to the local building supply companies. The bottom line showed a modest balance, less than $50,000.00.
She flipped to the back page, which was blank, but had a stack of unsigned lien waivers clipped to it. She thumbed through them. Underneath those was a huge stack of unpaid invoices from the same companies that were marked “paid” on the previous page. The last page was another spreadsheet, listing all the unpaid bills.
She was looking at a set of duplicate reports. The top sheets must’ve been the ones he showed everyone, while the bottom one painted the true picture. And it didn’t look good. The unpaid invoices meant that Jeremy had to be skimming money from his investors, if the deposits were accurate. The “paid” column amounts on the first set of papers matched the invoices, but on the bottom of the stack, those invoices were stamped Past Due. She replaced the folder on the seat where she found it and looked over her shoulder. He still hadn’t followed her down the stairs. Heart thudding at her discovery, she grabbed her belongings and sprinted for the door.
Once outside the garage the enormity of everything she’d seen and just been through assaulted her stomach and she winced in pain. Not only was Jeremy bent on fooling around with other women, he was cheating his investors, too. He probably couldn’t be loyal to anyone. He was no better than pond scum. She leaned against the garage and massaged her abdomen. Acid reflux kicked into overdrive. She fished around in an inner compartment in her purse for her little green pills. Tearing open the foil, she swallowed two without water. She picked her way through the yard until she located a flagstone walkway edged in a colorful abundance of zinnias, begonias and marigolds that led toward the main house. She trudged along the walk, wondering what she should say, if anything, to Ricky about what she’d seen, and about what Jeremy had done.
She needed to find Ricky and talk with her, and determine how serious Ricky felt about this jerk before she’d tell her anything. If Ricky and Jeremy weren’t “in a relationship,” she’d say nothing of his unwanted advances to her. If Ricky was all gaga over this creep, she’d have to find a way to tell her how sleazy he was. Her heartburn increased.
As to the folder, she decided she’d ask Randolph’s advice before telling anyone anything.
* * *
Reaching the end of the walk, she encountered a tall wooden fence with an ornately trimmed gate at one end. Finding the gate unlocked, she pushed it open and discovered she was poolside among a throng of swimsuit-clad guests. Busy chatting and drinking, they ignored her as she edged past them and around the pool. Someone dove in and splashed her as she passed. A burst of laughter followed and she waved. No harm. The water felt good. She ducked under an arbor and entered a gazebo where there were more guests. These folks were somewhat less scantily clad. And from the size and shape of them, it was probably just as well.
So far, she hadn’t seen anyone she knew personally. As she’d made her way around the pool, she thought she recognized some other bankers from the “big box” banks, but she couldn’t be sure. They may have looked different to her since she had never seen any of them without their clothes before. The only time she saw most of them was at the Chamber of Commerce meetings, where they almost always dressed in suits. Of course, some of the women were pretty scantily clad there, too, come to think of it.
Once past the gazebo, she cut across a cobblestone patio with an open pergola. The wood slats across the top were draped in a flowering vine abundant with saucer-sized purple flowers. A custom outdoor kitchen occupied the entire west end of the patio. A mouth-watering aroma of grilling meat wafted toward her. At the barbeque pit stood a man covered in a long white apron over white jeans and sporting a chef’s hat that bounced and jiggled as he deftly worked the grill. She recognized James, the chef from Restaurant du Jour, a favorite eatery of hers and Randolph’s.
She waved at him as she pulled open one of the French doors to the house. Inside, blessedly cool air welcomed her into a sea of guests who were busy chatting, laughing and holding beverages. Many were snacking from a heavy pine table mounded with appetizers. Across the room, which was probably a gathering room, judging from the casually elegant stainless steel and leather furniture in a semi-circle in front of a fireplace, she noticed a hand waving toward her. The hand, arm, and soon the rest of Ricky emerged from a cluster of people.
“Rhetta! Over here,” she called.
“Hey!” Rhetta answered, and glanced around. She held up the tote. “Where shall I put this wine?”
“Follow me,” said her friend. Rhetta squeezed in behind Ricky and trailed her into the lavish kitchen that must have been renovated about the same time as Jeremy’s apartment. Rhetta recognized the same high quality craftsmanship in the cabinetry along with similar high-end stainless steel appliances. She set the bottles down on a shiny granite countertop, and folded the tote into her purse.
“Let me introduce you to our hostess,” Ricky said, sliding an arm through Rhetta’s and leading her out to an extension of the patio, toward a silver-haired lady holding court near a water fountain. “Anjanette Spears, meet my best friend, Rhetta McCarter.” As Rhetta smiled at Anjanette, she resolved to find a way to pull Ricky away and talk to her privately, and soon.
The hostess beamed at Rhetta and extended her hand. Rhetta grasped it and was surprised at the strength in the older woman’s handshake. “So pleased to meet you, Mrs. Spears.”
Anjanette laughed, revealing beautiful white teeth, undoubtedly the work of the same orthodontist who had worked on Jeremy. The smile was far too bright for a lady who had to be pushing seventy. “Please, my friends all call me Anjanette, as must you, dear Rhetta.” When she spoke, her voice warbled as though in a song. She wore her silver hair pulled back and held by an ornate silver clasp at the base of her neck. Silver spiral earrings inlaid with diamond chips danced as did her bright blue eyes when she spoke. Taller than Rhetta, even in the flat silver sandals, her slim figure in pale blue slacks and bright print blouse belied her age.
She was gorgeous, Rhetta had to admit.
“You have a beautiful home, truly lovely.” Rhetta said. It was the truth. What she didn’t say out loud, was, “How the heck did you pay for all this?”
Chapter 14
As Rhetta and Ricky wandered among the guests, Rhetta commented that someone was missing.
“Where’s Jeremy?” she asked, feigning ignorance about knowing exactly where Jeremy was. What she didn’t understand was why he hadn’t yet joined his girlfriend and his guests. She smiled, thinking maybe he was too sore to walk around. Maybe she could escape before he showed up, thus avoiding any awkwardness.
Ricky glanced at her watch and frowned. “He had an appointment with a client, but he should be here by now.” Then she smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be along in time to wolf down a steak.”
Rhetta glanced at her friend. Ricky was stunning in a pair of green shorts with matching tank top, her long red locks held back with a simple scrunchie that matched her top. She needed to tell her about Jeremy. She didn’t need to know whether they were a couple or not to do the right thing.
“Listen, Ricky, I….” Before she could finish, Jeremy materialized at Ricky’s side. He leaned in and kissed her, cutting his eyes toward Rhetta with a cold stare. She glared back. She wanted to stick out her tongue.
Ricky threaded her arm through Jeremy’s. “There you are. We were wondering where you’d gotten to.”
Rhetta raised an eyebrow. She??
?d been practicing that one-eyebrow raising thing that Woody did so well. She discovered it came in really handy. That Jeremy had changed into tan chinos from his white shorts was not lost on her. She smiled.
Anjanette joined them. “Jeremy, darling, would you be a dear and check in with the chef to be sure he has enough steaks for all of our guests?”
“Of course. Come with me, Ricky,” he added, steering her toward the patio. He leaned in and whispered something and Ricky giggled.
Oh, crap, she has it bad.
“Don’t they make a lovely couple?” Anjanette asked. “I’m so glad that we called Ricky when we were looking for someone to list our lots out in the new subdivision.”
So, that’s how they met.
“Yes, lovely.”
Anjanette took Rhetta’s arm and walked her away from the guests until they stood alone in the foyer. Rhetta wondered what the woman wanted.
“Such an unfortunate incident at the barn,” she began. Unfortunate incident? Yes, indeed, finding a body was quite unfortunate—especially for the dead guy.
“I’m told that your husband is a former judge. I was hoping he would be here with you today.”
Huh? “Well, actually, Randolph—” Before she could finish, Anjanette interrupted, laying her slim hand on Rhetta’s arm. Each of her fingers bore heavy jeweled rings as though to camouflage the age spots and rather gnarly fingers.
“I so want to be able to move quickly past this incident and continue the project. This is such an inconvenience. I imagine the deceased is some derelict who chose to die in that barn. Now we must put our project on hold. I was so hoping Judge McCarter could help us with this.”
Holy crap. This woman is nuts. I guess the derelict buried himself there, too. Doesn’t she get it?
“I understand only the barn is off limits for now, until the investigation is over,” Rhetta said. “What’s so critical about the barn?”
“The barn needs to be taken down immediately so that we can pour a slab there for the tennis courts.”
“I see. That’s critical, all right.” She deliberately tried to sound sarcastic.
Clearly, it went over her hostess’ head. Anjanette tossed her superbly coiffed head back and laughed. “Well, not just the tennis courts, of course, but the pool and the clubhouse will all be in that area. We must have those amenities in place to lure builders to build the type of homes Jeremy is planning for the lots. So, you see, it is critical to get the barn removed as soon as possible.”
Rhetta just shook her head. While she was hoping for several mortgage loans from the subdivision, she couldn’t fathom this woman’s coldness about the “derelict” who chose to die in the barn. This conversation was totally off the wall.
To get away from the Ice Queen, as Rhetta now thought of her, she asked,” Is there a bathroom nearby?”
Anjanette motioned toward the hall with her jewelry-laden hand. “Down there. Second door on the right.” As Rhetta moved away, Anjanette returned to her guests.
Rhetta meandered down the hallway, peeking into the first door on the right. Inside was a beautifully appointed office. She scoped the hallway and finding no one around, eased open the door and entered. She closed the door softly behind her. Against one wall was a large oak roll-top desk, modernized to hold a computer and all the peripherals, like a printer and scanner.
A polished oak gun cabinet stood against the opposite wall. Alongside the cabinet, the wall was decorated with framed awards. She tiptoed to the glass-fronted cabinet and spied several cleaned and blued rifles lined up like sentries in their slots inside. When she glanced at the awards she was surprised to learn that Anjanette Spears was an expert shot. This was definitely not the bathroom.
She sidled to the desk where she marveled at the sleek flat-screen monitor, wireless keyboard and accessories. The computer itself was out of sight. Curious about the type of computer, Rhetta began looking for the unit. It had to be pretty small to be concealed inside this desk. She wondered what brand it was. She needed a new one at the office and would love to have a small CPU, or one that was altogether with the monitor. She glanced around the top of the desk without spotting it, so she opened a few of the doors.
One side door opened to a series of drawers behind it. She pulled the top drawer but it stuck. She tugged it harder, and the drawer sailed out. When she knelt to retrieve the contents that had spilled on to the carpeted floor, she was eye level with the empty space where the drawer had been. She peered into the cavity. Something was lodged at the back, probably the reason the drawer was sticking. She reached for it.
She stared at a handwritten envelope bearing an old postmark. Even with squinting, she couldn’t make out the date. She fished out her glasses from her purse and tried again. If she wasn’t misreading it, this envelope was postmarked nearly sixteen years ago.
Using her thumb, she opened the flap on the envelope open and withdrew the letter.
“To my dearest Anjie,” it began. What followed was obviously a love letter. As Rhetta scanned to the bottom, she thought how sweet it was that Mrs. Spears had kept this letter sent to her by her late husband, probably when he was away on a trip. She felt guilty for invading the woman’s privacy.
Then, she spotted the signature line: “All my love, Malcom.”
Chapter 15
Rhetta blinked in surprise and then re-read it. Malcom? Malcom Griffith, Willard Spears’ partner? Had Anjanette Spears been having an affair with Malcom Griffith at the time of his disappearance? If that was so, then who was the exotic pole dancer everyone talked about?
The ramifications of what she held in her hand hit her squarely between the eyes in an instant headache that shot outward to her temples. She dropped the letter back into the envelope, and tucked it into the drawer with the rest of the contents. She pushed it to go back in place, but it resisted. She shoved harder, wanting desperately to leave the office that she’d carelessly entered to investigate.
As she struggled with the desk, she heard two people talking as they walked down the hall, their voices growing louder as they neared the office. She slammed both palms into the drawer, and this time it yielded, and slid into place. Her headache pounded as the voices got closer. She closed the door that concealed the drawers, then jumped as it clicked loudly when it latched. She desperately prayed that the two people, who sounded like they’d stopped in front of the office door, didn’t hear it. Frantically, she eyeballed the room for a place to hide. The voices grew louder as they disagreed. Rhetta couldn’t quite make out their words, but she could tell a man and a woman were arguing. She spotted a closet and streaked for it, tugged open the door and shot inside, only to discover that instead of a regular closet containing articles of clothing or coats, she thudded against steel filing cabinets. More noise. Her heart hammered as she turned around, sucked in a breath and pulled the door closed. She could barely fit.
In her hasty retreat, she’d forgotten to turn off the light. She began to sweat.
Her hiding place had louvered doors, which allowed her to peer through the slats. Had a light been on inside the closet, she would have been seen. Luckily, that side of the room was dim—the vertical blinds at the window were still closed. She prayed she wouldn’t be spotted. Her heart thudded so loudly that not only was she afraid they’d hear it, but also that they’d feel the vibration all the way across the room, like a 6.2 earthquake on the Richter scale. She’d managed her escape just in time to watch Jeremy and Anjanette enter the office and stop in front of the desk in the exact spot she had just vacated.
Anjanette’s pleasant disposition had disappeared. When she spoke, she fairly hissed. Rhetta saw her face contort in anger.
His response was caustic. “All right, Mother,” he said, with a dripping dose of sarcasm on the word mother. “I’ll make sure this situation gets cleared up.”
“See to it that you do, or there might be consequences.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Consequences? Of course th
ere’s going to be consequences. The first of which will be that we won’t be able to build anything there anytime soon.” He sidled over to an elegant stuffed chair, one of a pair that faced each other across a marble top coffee table. He dropped into the chair and draped a leg lazily over one of the arms.
Anjanette sat primly at the edge of the leather desk chair, pulled open a middle drawer that Rhetta had not previously noticed and withdrew a business checkbook. She scribbled quickly, tore out a check, then stood and handed it to Jeremy.
“This needs to last you a while. I don’t know how much more I can give you.”
He leapt to his feet and in one stride stood directly in her face. “I,” he said, poking her in the chest with his index finger, “will be the one to decide that.” His voice dropped in pitch, and sounded like a snarl as he snatched the check from her, then strode toward the door.
Rhetta’s hand flew over her mouth. Oh, God, how am I ever going to get Ricky away from this slime bucket? And what the heck was going on? Why was Anjanette giving money to Jeremy? From what she saw of his books, he was getting plenty from his investors.
After he closed the door, Anjanette slumped into the desk chair, buried her head in her arms and began weeping.
Lordy, she’ll be here awhile. I’ll be stiff as a board smashed in this closet. Rhetta needed to move, to change positions. Her butt muscles began to cramp, then her legs. She dared not move and risk exposure. She was a fast talker, but she’d never be able to convince Anjanette Spears that she got lost looking for the bathroom and wound up in a closet. A muscle spasm vibrated down the back of her leg, followed by a searing pain from a sciatic nerve as she continued cramping. She wanted to whimper. She stuffed her fist into her mouth. Tears from the pain began to trickle down her cheek. She tried to take deep breaths, but was terrified of being discovered, so she sucked in jerky little gasps instead.