Chapter 14 #2
I pulled a face. “No. It’s not looking that way.
There was a spending change about the time Austin took control, and I suspect the limits were raised about that time as well.
Until then, the statements show Chloe rarely used them.
They were likely a hangover from when Brendon was still alive and had been paid off in full every month, whereas now only the minimum is paid to keep the cards active.
Automatic payments include those on a Mercedes—” I gave him a pointed look.
“—not a Toyota. Utility bills for both households, gardening bills, supermarket purchases, and a couple of large cash withdrawals that could’ve gone anywhere. ”
A growl surfaced from deep in Mads’ throat. “Shit. Bastard. Do you think Chloe knows?”
I thought about his question. “Austin only has signing rights, which means he can operate her account and make payments, but he can’t actually change the credit card limits. Only Chloe can do that. She would’ve needed to sign an application form, and she said nothing about that to me.”
Mads digested that, a line cutting deep between his eyes. “Then how—” He ran a hand over his mouth, pausing as the possibilities hit him. “Three months, you said?”
I nodded, waiting for him to catch on.
“Around the same time she signed the signatory rights.”
That’s my boy. I nodded again.
Mads cursed. “It would’ve been easy enough to slip an extra piece of paper or two in with the signatory one if he brought them home rather than did it at the bank.
Or he could’ve simply asked her and given some pseudo-legitimate reason why he needed it done.
” His lips pursed together in a thin line.
I continued, “It’s not hard. I saw it all the time in financial crimes.
People think banks have hardcore security, but there are lots of ways to get around it.
Bank workers are susceptible to social engineering and a good cover story as much as anyone else.
Age and illness offer perfectly good reasons why someone can’t get into the bank in person or need some help with their accounts from a family member, for instance.
Once Austin had things set up, all he had to do was change Chloe’s online password, start dishing out an allowance, and she had no way of knowing what was actually going on. ”
“Fucking hell.” Mads ran his fingers through his silver locks and let out a sigh. “So, you were right, after all.”
I pushed the papers away and reached for my beer. “I wish I wasn’t. Thank God she listened to her gut and didn’t hand him power of attorney.”
Mads looked thoughtful. “What about Belinda? She’d have to know what was going on, right?”
I shrugged. “Not necessarily. The payments were mostly household and car stuff. Nothing to specifically indicate she’s in on it.
Unless Austin told her about it or they have a joint account, which seems unlikely.
Knowing what we do about the guy, Belinda could easily have no idea.
For all we know, he could be ripping her off as well.
I’ve seen it happen time and again where the partner is completely in the dark about what their loved one is up to. ”
As rain began hammering on the iron roof like shotgun pellets, Mads jumped and glanced toward the window. “I keep coming back to that house,” he said, peering out into the gloom. “You think he’s in financial shit?”
I followed his gaze, the bleak evening weather bringing some fog that snaked in and around the rows of trellised vines.
“Either that or he’s just plain greedy.” I took another slug of beer.
“Maybe both. Hopefully Jacko will be able to tell us. I think Austin was pissed off that his dad left everything to Chloe and decided to right what he saw as a wrong.”
“By stealing from his dad’s partner? An old woman?
” Mads looked suitably appalled, and I had to remind myself that he hadn’t grown up and worked in the same world that I had.
A world where your father would steal your fucking lawn mowing money for booze if you didn’t hide it well.
I stood and took the empty bottle from his hand and pressed a kiss to his hair.
“Don’t ever change, sweetheart. Want another? ”
Mads shook his head. “A tonic and lime will do fine.”
As I went to fulfil his request, Mads grumbled something about a fucked-up world and what the hell was wrong with us that we kept attracting this kind of shit into our lives. “My life was perfectly boring before you turned up.”
He had me there.
“And we should’ve kept that fire going, it’s getting cold again,” he muttered. “What the hell is up with this fog? I thought grape vines liked it hot and dry.”
“Which the summers are,” I reminded him, smiling at the beep of the heat pump switching on. When I returned with our drinks, Mads was standing under said heat pump, scowling out the window. I sidled up next to him and slid an arm around his waist. “Wanna go to bed and talk dirty under the covers?”
He snorted and rested his head on my shoulder.
“So that’s what it’s come down to. We’re staying in a gorgeous romantic vineyard cottage, and the only energy we have left after one round of sex is for a bit of dirty talk.
” He turned his head and kissed my neck.
“It’s hardly what I imagined in my youth. ”
I pinched his waist. “Are you complaining?”
He laughed. “Hell no. Youthful lusting has its place, but give me a warm body, some epic kissing and canoodling, and maybe a massage thrown in for good measure, and that’s a win right there. Not to mention, my arse is a little . . . sensitive.”
I cradled Mads’ butt cheek and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Aw, does it need a little . . . first aid?”
Mads shot me a sceptical look. “That’s the first time I ever heard it called that.” His attention strayed over my shoulder to the bedroom and he frowned. “Jeez, no wonder it’s cold in here. We left the patio door open in the bedroom.”
“What?” My head jerked around, and sure enough, one of the glass patio doors in the bedroom stood slightly ajar.
“I’m sure I closed it and I’ll tell you how I know.
” I strode over. “I did a walk-through before we left, and I remember checking it and cursing because the latch is a useless piece of shit.” I jiggled the mechanism to show him how the whole thing moved and not just the crossbar.
Mads looked puzzled. “We’re in the middle of a vineyard, a mile from the road. Why would you—”
“Because of the books,” I reminded him, watching his eyes grow wide.
“The books! Shit!” He raced to the wardrobe and pulled his carry-on down from the top shelf. Opening the zip, he breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s still here.”
So was the rolled-up shipping chart I’d put on the bedside table the night before. I stared at it; almost positive I’d retied the ribbon around it when I was done. Reaching for it, I unfurled the chart slowly on the bed. “Shit. The letter’s gone?”
“What letter?” Mads crossed the room to look at the chart.
“Chloe’s,” I explained. “I was looking at the letter and the chart in bed last night. When I was done, rather than brave the cold to put the chart back in the tube in the lounge, I rolled it up with the letter and left them there.”
Mads pulled the bedside table out and checked under the bed. “And you’re sure about that?”
“Of course I’m bloody sure,” I snapped, then winced. “Sorry.”
Mads said nothing as he continued to look. “Maybe the place was cleaned while we were out. Maybe they lifted the chart and the letter fell out and got . . . I don’t know . . . thrown out as rubbish?” My look said it all and Mads narrowed his eyes. “I’m trying to help here.”
I was being a dick. I pulled him to me and kissed him in apology. “I know. I’m sorry. But it doesn’t explain the open door. And the owner said there was no servicing of the cottage under a seven-day stay.”
“True,” Mads agreed. “But we can’t be sure unless we ask. And you said yourself that the latch is munted. It might have opened on its own or you might not have been as fastidious as you think in checking it.”
Rather than argue, I said, “Then call them. Because I remember exactly where I put that letter last night, and if the cleaner hasn’t been here, then someone else has. Somebody took it.” I stared pointedly at Mads. “Which means somebody read it.” I didn’t need to spell it out.
“Austin?” Mads looked at me like I might be losing the plot. “You don’t think that’s a bit of a reach? How did he know where—”
“We mentioned Primrose Cottage to Chloe before we left yesterday, and Austin was there, remember?” I reminded him. “Unless you can think of someone else who’d be interested enough to take a simple letter but leave behind a digital watch sitting in full view?”
Mads glanced toward his bedside table and swore. “Shit. I forgot to put it on this morning . . . again.”
I huffed. Nothing new there. Mads rarely wore his watch for fear of it catching on whatever book he was restoring, which meant he usually forgot to wear it the rest of the time as well.
“Let’s say Austin was snooping around to see what he could find out about us and he happened to read that letter.
He’d recognise Chloe’s handwriting for sure.
” I played it out in my head. “Which means he knows we lied about who we are.”
“And he knows he might be in a spot of bother.” Mads sank onto the mattress with a groan. “Fuck.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call the owner while you check the cottage top to toe just in case.”
Five minutes later we had the answer to both questions.
The owner hadn’t been near the place, nor had a cleaner, and the letter wasn’t anywhere in the cottage or the rental car.
The owner apologised profusely for not having any camera surveillance on the cottage’s driveway or front door and said he’d get the latch fixed as soon as possible.
Mads convinced him that we’d probably just thrown the letter out by mistake and not to worry.
The last thing we wanted was to involve the police before we knew exactly who and what we were dealing with.
Which meant waiting for Samuel and Jacko to get back to us.
I was certain my duffle had been searched because the shirt I’d worn the day before wasn’t on top where I’d left it.
Mads had unpacked his clothes into a couple of drawers—the man was a finicky bastard when it came to wrinkles—but he also thought his things might’ve been moved around.
When we’d done all we could, I shot Samuel a text telling him we’d found some discrepancies in Chloe’s account and could he please hurry things up.
That was as much as I dared rile the man.
“Earth to Nick?” Mads cupped my cheek and turned me to face him, frowning when he saw my expression. “What’s up?”
I dropped a soft kiss on his lips. “I can’t stop thinking about how we’re going to tell Chloe about all this tomorrow. And what the fuck are we going to do after that? She can’t stay here with Austin hovering just a few suburbs away waiting on his inheritance.”
Mads wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. “Funnily enough, I’ve been thinking about that. How about we see if she’s interested in moving to Auckland?”
I blinked. “You mean into Golden Oaks?” I hadn’t even thought about that. “You think she’d be okay leaving Blenheim?”
He shrugged. “You can only ask. You are her son, after all, and she’d get to see a lot more of you. They have villas in Golden Oaks as well. And I know Shirley would look out for her. Jerry too. It’s just a thought.”
I pulled him down onto the bed and we rolled to face each other. “It’s a brilliant idea, is what it is.”
Mads beamed. “You think so?”
“Like you said, we can only ask.” I slid a hand around his waist, and he played with the hair on the nape of my neck. “Let’s see how tomorrow plays out. When Samuel gets back to us, I’m going to ask if he has any police contacts down here in case Chloe wants to press charges.”
“Or in case we need help,” Mads added in a wry tone. “In case you’ve forgotten, we have a habit of biting off more than we can chew and needing backup.” He snuggled against me. “I’d really like this particular scenario to go a little smoother.”
I couldn’t have agreed more.