Chapter Twenty Two
Lucas had turned the problem over and over in his mind.
He knew he couldn’t be far from a solution, because between himself, Verity, and Alastair, they’d harvested quite a lot of information about the way the thief operated.
Now all they had to do was tie it together and use it to identify whoever was actually doing it. Also to find out where the money was.
He had contacted Alastair after breakfast, fortunately finding him at home. And yes, he was eager to hear what they’d come up with. Combined with the other information? They had to be closer than a gnat’s toe to the truth.
Verity walked quietly beside him, busy with her own thoughts. He glanced at her, and impulsively took her hand, drawing it through his arm. She returned the look with a warm smile.
And that, he realised later, was probably the moment he knew.
He wanted to walk beside her for the rest of his life. He couldn’t even imagine another woman with all the amazing talents she had, the gifted intellect, the generous heart, the tireless enthusiasm, and yes, all the other things he’d enjoyed discovering. Or uncovering.
He chuckled, attracting her attention. “Amused?” she asked, as they approached Alastair’s door.
“Diverted,” he said, walking up the steps and grabbing the large brass knocker.
“Diverted by what?” asked Verity as they waited.
“You,” he answered simply. “I’m going to marry you.”
“Hello, come on in.” Alastair swung the door wide. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Verity appeared speechless, her eyes wide and fixed on Lucas. “What did you say?”
He took pity on her. “Let’s get this done. Time to move on to other things after that.”
She stumbled over the doorstep, and he caught her just in time. “Careful.”
“Sorry,” sighed Alastair. “I’ve been meaning to replace that mat for a while.”
“It’s fine,” she said, shakily. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine, isn’t it?”
Alastair blinked at her, curiously. Then he glanced at Lucas. “Ahhh.” He smiled. “I understand. But for now let’s get down to business. We have much to discuss.”
“Do you know about last night’s incident, Alastair?” Lucas led Verity inside and followed Alastair to his study.
“Last night? No...what happened last night?”
Verity, having managed to regain her countenance, sat near the desk and related the happenings, through the art show, the donations, and Tabby’s near-brush with a thief.
“Mrs Monroe...she’s not hurt?”
“Just a few bruises, a scratch, and probably a headache this morning. But it could have been much worse.” Verity frowned. “And that, on top of what Lucas and I discovered separately, created an interesting pattern.”
“Oddly enough,” began Lucas, “Verity and I were working separately but along the same lines. I was evaluating some calculations, and she was working on her charitable accounts.” He paused. “And we both found something wrong.”
“Nothing concrete, you understand, Alastair, but—as before—an awkward timing, an odd shift that was barely noticeable...”
“And I had some numbers that I knew should add to a certain total, but they were shy by a farthing or less.”
Alastair nodded. “All verifying my theory. With your input the picture comes together.” He sat behind his desk, as Lucas took the chair next to Verity.
“And what does the picture look like to you, Alastair?” Verity posed the question that Lucas was just about to ask.
The older man leaned back. “Well, the first part of the pattern is your charities, Verity. You have several, all in individual accounts, but held under one umbrella, if you will. That produces a bottom line that is...let’s say quite sizeable, and therefore ideal for fractional losses that reconcile cleanly.
A good candidate for an account that wouldn’t miss a tiny amount here and there, especially when the numbers appear correct. ”
“So you’re saying the timing, the rounding down, and the shifting of money, has been targeting my charities?”
“It’s possible.” Alastair leaned back and steepled his fingers. “We have no way of knowing at this point whether other similarly sized accounts may also have been targeted.”
“Such as?” Lucas frowned.
“Let’s say, for example, the theatre. A new show at the Great Arcvale opera, starring the most extraordinary soprano anyone’s ever heard.”
“Ticket sales would go through the roof...” Verity’s voice tapered off.
“And there it is,” agreed Lucas. “A very well-thought-out plan, offering not the chance of instant wealth, but a constant increase in income. Steady, regular, unnoticeable.”
Silence fell for a few moments, as all three considered the magnitude of what they’d discovered.
“Great coggles, Alastair,” whispered Verity. “What kind of money are we talking about?”
He thought for a moment or two. “Truthfully, my dear, I can’t even begin to hazard a guess. But I’d be quite willing to say... lots.”
Lucas nodded. “I don’t think we can estimate anything at this moment. But as we pursue this matter—and we will—maybe we’ll have a better sense of what we’re looking at in the way of losses and/or gains, which will, in turn, lead us to the source.”
“I asked this earlier of Lucas,” said Verity to Alastair. “Is there a way to associate a date with an activity we know to be suspicious?”
“Hmm.” Alastair frowned for a few moments. “We might be able to do that with some of the most recent ticks we’ve noticed...”
“What will that gain us, Verity?” Lucas looked puzzled.
“Another piece of the pattern, I hope.” She shrugged. “It’s just a notion. Every piece of information we can pull together will help, I’m sure of it.”
“All right. That’s an intriguing enough suggestion. Let’s see if my old mirror engine can handle something as simple as gathering dates.”
“The larger accounts,” mused Lucas, as Alastair tinkered with the controls on his machine. “I doubt we’d be able to peer into the PCIB for the Arcvale bank. Too many safeguards. I know, because I put ‘em in there.”
“Bearing that in mind,” Alastair threw a switch, and his mirror engine began to hum, “we might reasonably assume that less-scrutinized accounts would make tempting targets?”
Lucas sighed. “I’d like to say yes, and I’d like to say that the PCIB wasn’t hit at all. But I can’t say yes to either at this point.”
“Well lad, once we solve this mystery, you can update your PCIB to prevent it ever happening again.”
“I’m already working on safeguards,” he tapped his head. “The minute this began and when the picture expanded.”
“Good.” Alastair’s machine slowed, and a small roll of paper started running through the machine. When it stopped, Alastair tore it off and passed it to Verity. “Here you are, my dear. The dates of the deposits for the last couple of weeks, and the names of the accounts receiving the funds.”
Verity leaned forward and spent quite a lot of time studying the paper. Then she reached for her reticule and produced a tiny book, an engagement calendar favoured by those who had schedules to keep.
Lucas hid his smile. It was so like her to have on at hand. His was in his inside top pocket.
The quiet in the room was getting unnerving until Verity raised her head and looked at him, and then at Alastair.
“God help me. I think I know who’s behind this...”
Lucas straightened, and Alastair froze.
“You do?” The question was simultaneous, and equally shocked.
Verity nodded. “Alastair, if I’m right, I think we should alert the Ledger Office of the Civic Wardens. I believe they are the only ones with both the authority and the knowledge to handle a matter such as this?”
“I’ll take care of it,” he answered quietly. “Can you solve this today?”
“I believe I can.”
*~~*~~*
A few hours later, three people sat on a lovely bench in the Meridian Gardens.
They were not alone, of course, since this spot had been a favourite place to relax, read, enjoy the sunshine, and maybe flirt a little as the sun set.
There really wasn’t one time of day, or one time of year, when it wasn’t spectacularly colourful, and wonderfully restful.
Not far from them, a young man wearing the shorter cloak of a student, sat in a shady spot with a book, casually turning the pages, obviously engrossed in the story.
There were several couples wandering across the pristine white gravel, the gentle crunch of their footsteps adding to the melodies of the birds that circled high above the many shady trees.
“I love this place,” sighed Verity. “No matter where I was, if you let me hear these sounds, I’d recognise them in a minute.”
“It’s so calm,” observed Lucas. “Even the couple of children way over there...” he pointed to the far end of the Gardens, “playing something or other, but no shrieks or screaming. Surprising.”
“Wait ’til you have children of your own, Lucas,” grinned Alastair. “You’ll spend a lot of time shrieking with ‘em.”
Lucas shot a meaningful glance at Verity, who completely ignored it. “Are you sure all the arrangements are in place?”
“Yes,” he answered before Alastair could do more than nod.
“You’ve asked twelve times already. Stop worrying, please?
” He covered her hand with his. “I know this is the most important thing any of us has ever done, and it’s going to be a day to remember, for certain.
But knowing you were fretting through the morning isn’t the way to remember it. ”
The bell tower on top of the Arcvale Opera House solemnly tolled three booming chimes.
They were on the end farthest away from it, but even so, Lucas swore it rattled his teeth. “I’m rather glad I live a good distance away from that monster,” he chuckled.
“Any time now,” Verity absently wiped her hands on her skirt. This had to work, had to be right. If not...well, that didn’t bear thinking about.
Two learned gentlemen strolled by, deep in a discussion of something intense by the looks of it. And a large trammelbuggy rattled along the lanes outside the park. Just another ordinary afternoon in Arcvale.
Except...