Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A fter some ribbing from cyber—because apparently, they were all still middle schoolers at heart—and still dressed in her hiking attire, Bean entered the large conference room and greeted Xander and Alvarez. She took a seat at the head of the rectangular table and opened the lid of her laptop. In under a minute, Tiny was on the room’s wall-sized Smartboard.
“Sorry to cut your hike short,” Alvarez said with a smirk. “But I figured you’d want in on this. It’s nothing substantial, but it’s interesting. Tiny?”
“Like Alvarez said, this is all preliminary, but it does raise more questions. On Saturday night after the car chase, Bean asked me to look into Constance Whitcomb’s finances. I did. At first glance, everything was fine. She and her husband, Roger, have a substantial joint checking account, and he has a number of individual investment accounts. Truly, everything looked normal. But when I dug deeper, I was able to see the structure of their joint account. Both their names are technically on it, but Roger completely controls it. A stipulation in their private banking contract is that he’s the only one authorized to spend on the account. Any transactions initiated by her have to be preapproved by him. She does have an individual account, and it appears that Roger has a recurring transfer going to it from their joint account for her monthly allowance. The transaction memo is literally ‘Constance’s Allowance.’”
Bean frowned. “That’s a bit archaic.” Not that she was a fan of Constance’s or anything, but that whole control-your-wife’s-money thing was gross and antiquated.
“Agreed,” Tiny said. “However, her allowance is forty grand, so I’m pretty sure she isn’t complaining. The forty grand is deposited into her individual account on the first, and she blows through a good chunk of it on shopping, spa trips, and vacations. However, as of last month, that monthly transfer stopped. Then yesterday—two days after the charity gala—a hundred and fifty grand went from her individual account back to the joint account. As of this afternoon, she has two hundred bucks sitting in her account and her credit cards are frozen.”
“So she’s broke?” Gavin asked. “But she said she was checking into the Pacific View Resort today. That place isn’t cheap.”
“Hang on.” Tiny looked to the side, and the sound of his typing rang through the speakers. “She’s using a McClintock Family Foundation credit card.”
Bean pushed her laptop forward and leaned her elbows onto the table. “What about her own money? I mean, she’s McClintock’s sister and she works for the foundation.”
“Her paychecks get deposited into that joint account with her husband. When I searched her SSN, it showed that she has one bank account with her brother. However, it’s an ‘and’ account that requires both parties to sign to access the funds. Neither she nor Edward have touched that account in over a year. It looks like all her available cash is tied to her husband.”
Bean pursed her lips. “Did she do something to piss off her husband?”
“I have a theory on that,” Alvarez said. “You know how I said this high-society group loves gossip? Well, they did not disappoint. I checked with my brother and his wife, and there’s a rumor going around their circle of friends that Constance’s marriage is in trouble, that old Whitcomb has finally had enough. It’s no secret that he hasn’t divorced her because of her ties to McClintock, and that he’s turned a blind eye to her many affairs. Not that he’s been a saint either. He’s been known to screw around with lots?—”
“Nope,” Bean said, holding up a hand and shaking her head. “Please stop. I do not need the mental image of that man screwing anything.”
Alvarez chuckled. “My point is that there are whispers that Constance is sleeping with her stepson. That Whitcomb found out, and instead of divorcing her, he’s freezing her out financially.”
“Well, shit,” Gavin said, running a hand over his chin. “That jives with her current financial situation.”
“I took a peek at their prenup,” Tiny said. “There’s no provision for cheating on either of their sides. However, if he initiates the divorce, she gets six million as a settlement. If she initiates the divorce, she only gets five hundred grand.”
Bean’s mouth fell open. “Why the hell would she agree to such a shitty prenup?”
“My guess? Forty grand a month,” Alvarez said.
Xander scoffed. “So Whitcomb’s just going to stay married to her to basically fuck her over. I mean, it’s one thing if she’s cheating with random people, but cheating on him with his actual son? ”
“Where is she now?” Gavin asked.
“Wilson checked in before you guys showed up,” Xander said. “He said she went directly to the Pacific View, checked into her room, and has been there ever since. He’s hanging around until things quiet down, then he’ll put some of our tiny cameras up near her door so we can monitor her.”
Speaking of cameras... Bean pulled her laptop toward her, opened the video she’d received from cyber, and shared it on the Smartboard. “This is video of Constance on the ferries this morning. Nothing exciting. She boarded at the Mukilteo Ferry Terminal. Once her car was parked, she went up to the coffee stand, talked to the person in line behind her, grabbed a coffee, and went back to her car.” Bean sped through the surveillance footage. “She disembarked at the Clinton Ferry Terminal, drove through Whidbey Island, then hopped on the next ferry at Coupeville to Hudson Island. This time, she stayed in her car for the entire ferry ride. After she disembarked, she drove straight here. No stops. Like I said, nothing exciting.”
Gavin sighed and leaned back in his seat. “So where does that leave us?”
“With more fucking questions,” Alvarez said. “Aren’t you glad we called you guys back to the office for this?”
Bean chuckled and glanced at the screen. “Tiny, can you look into Roger Whitcomb’s son?”
“On it.”
“Wasn’t Roger’s son at our table at the charity gala?” Gavin asked.
Her brow furrowed. “I think so, but I can’t picture him.”
“I feel like we’re missing something,” Xander said. “I have no clue what though.”
“Tiny,” Bean said, “did you find anything on the warehouse where they took Anson?”
“Not yet. Ownership on the property is a clusterfuck. In the past three years, it’s changed hands over twenty times. Sometimes it’s the same entity but with a different name, other times it’s a completely separate company. I have a program running to pull all the entities and their owners and registered agents. It’s slow going though.”
“Well, crew,” Gavin said, “back at it, I suppose. Let’s check back in tomorrow morning.”
As Tiny disconnected, Bean rose and stretched.
“I have about another hour or two of work,” Gavin said. “Have dinner with me tonight?”
“I’d love to,” Xander said, deadpan.
“I’m in too,” Alvarez added. “Can I bring the fam?”
Gavin shook his head. “You can both fuck off.”
Chuckling, both men made their way to the door, waving their goodbyes.
“So,” Gavin began as he stood and placed a hand at the small of her back. “Dinner tonight?”
“Are you cooking?”
“Uh... seeing as I’m not really in the mood for ramen, yes.”
His teasing smile had butterflies taking flight in her stomach. Yup, Playful Gavin was so damn cute.
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying I can’t cook?”
“Not at all, because I’m pretty sure you said that.” He stepped toward her and pulled her against him, looping his arms around her. “Now give me a kiss so we can get back to work and then get the hell out of here.”
She rose up on her tiptoes and pecked him on the lips.
“Nope,” he growled. “Try again. And make it a good one.”
She tsked. “Bossy.”
“I’ll be happy to remind you later just how bossy I can be.” His arms tightened around her. “Now kiss me, B.”
She rose up onto her tiptoes again, and he met her halfway and crashed his lips to hers. There was nothing sweet or playful about his kiss. No, it was hot and demanding. Like he was marking her, claiming her. And it lit her on fire. As much as she loved Playful Gavin, this other version was definitely becoming a favorite.