Chapter 12 #2
The room went quiet while he took the call and then Dash came back and sat down and said, “They found a small amount of residue in the decanter. Not enough to test conclusively from the sample they have, so they’re sending it to the state toxicology lab for a full panel.
Could be nothing. Could be something. We’ll know more in a day or two.
I’ve got a couple of favors there owed to me.
” He set his phone on the table. “No prints on the glasses or the decanter other than Josephine’s. ”
“Josephine would have handled them when she packed up Henry’s office,” Dottie said.
“That’s what I’d assume. Whoever was there that night wiped the glasses clean before they left.”
“Which means they had a clear head,” Hank said. “Premeditated.”
Nobody argued with that.
Walt picked up a folder that had been sitting beside his stack of papers. “I found something this afternoon you all need to see.”
Walt opened the folder and set it in the middle of the table.
Inside were three pages of handwritten figures. Not foundation letterhead. Plain paper, the kind you’d find in any office. Two columns per page—dates on the left, dollar amounts on the right. Cash transfers, by the look of them, running from September through mid-October 2001.
Dottie put her reading glasses on and leaned in. “What are we looking at?”
“The account numbers in the margins look like foundation operating accounts,” Walt said.
“There are SWIFT codes there, so we know it’s international, and I did a little internet digging and made a list of the countries that match the numbers.
I can’t verify these are from the foundation without actual financial records, but James said he should be able to get all of that for us.
Then there are two account numbers attached to each of the banks.
I’m not an expert at embezzlement, but I called a friend who used to work for Treasury, and he said embezzlers generally produce bogus invoices and pay themselves.
So the top number could actually be a foundation account, and then the secondary account is where the money goes for the paid invoices.
You can also see a column that has invoice numbers. And they’re in Henry’s handwriting.”
“That’s bad,” Hank said.
“And,” Walt continued, “if you’ll notice the dates, they cover the last four weeks of his life.” He tapped the page. “Transfers. Cash. No names of people or bogus companies.”
“The dates start after Winston came to tell him about the embezzlement,” I said, noting the first date on the page.
“How much in total?” Dash asked.
“Just under forty thousand dollars,” he said.
“Which doesn’t sound like much, but that’s only for four weeks.
Multiply that by however long this scam was going on.
If you don’t mind, I can send the account numbers to my friend.
He’s still on the job. Never knew what his actual title was, but he’s one of those men you don’t ask a lot of questions about without the FBI showing up at your door. ”
“Send them,” Dash said. “It’s probably a slim chance that these accounts still exist twenty-five years later, especially if they belonged to Henry. But stranger things have happened.”
Nobody said anything for a moment.
“That’s definitely Henry’s handwriting,” I said, picking up my tea.
“What do we do with this?” Deidre asked.
“We keep gathering facts,” Dash said. “It’s evidence either way.” He looked around the table. “We photograph every page for the file and I’ll take the originals back to the station.”
“We still need to talk to Serena Lovell,” I said. “Whatever this is, she was with Henry the night before he died. She may know things nobody else does.”
Dash pushed back his chair. “Let me call the sheriff’s office on Amelia Island. It’s just professional courtesy when you’re working a case in someone else’s backyard.” He stepped away from the table and we could hear him in the hallway.
“If Henry did embezzle that money,” Dottie said, almost to herself, “we have to revisit the gunshot wound.”
“What do you mean?” Deidre asked.
“A left-handed man shot in the right temple. We’ve been working under the assumption someone staged it.
But if Henry pulled that trigger himself, there had to be a reason he used his right hand.
” She looked at Dash’s empty chair. “The only way to know for certain is to exhume the body. See if there’s evidence of an injury to the left hand or arm that would have forced him to use his right. ”
The table went quiet until Dash came back. “They said they appreciate the heads-up, and I’ve cleared my schedule for tomorrow.”
“We have the Lila Mae Banks call at ten tomorrow morning,” I said. “We can leave right after.”
“There’s still plenty of boxes to go through,” Walt said. “The rest of us will be back in the morning to keep going through those.”
“Hank and I can’t make it until lunchtime,” Dottie said. “He’s got a follow-up appointment. They’re going to do a brain scan.”
“Stupid,” Hank muttered. “My brain is fine. If they really wanted to help they’d figure out why I have to get up four times a night to use the bathroom.”
“It’s your prostate,” Walt said. “Tell them to check it. I take my medicine like clockwork and sleep like a baby now. No interruptions.”
“I’m a grown man,” Hank said. “No one is going to stick their fingers where they don’t belong.”
“Then you won’t get good sleep,” Walt said, shrugging. “You’ll get plenty when you’re dead.”
My eyes widened and I looked at Dash. “I’ll need to prep the shop and get things open in the morning, but I’ll be back for the call.”
“And I’ll drive to Amelia Island,” Bea said. “I’ve always liked that area. And I need to put some miles on my car. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve driven.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What?” she said. “I have an excellent driving record.”
“You’ve had your license revoked twice,” Deidre said. “You drive like a demon.”
“At least I get where I’m going without endangering everyone around me,” she said. “Besides, I almost outran the cop that last time but my foot got stuck under the pedal.”
“I didn’t hear that,” Dash said, shaking his head.
Bea waved a hand. “It was decades ago. But back to the point, you and Mabel can’t just traipse off to Amelia Island without stirring up a gossip storm. Not that I’m opposed to y’all shacking up, but Mabel isn’t as thick skinned as the rest of us. The shame would be debilitating.”
“It’s a day trip, Bea,” Dash said. “We’ll be back by evening. We don’t need a chaperone. But thanks for the offer.”
“For heaven’s sake, Bea,” Deidre said. “Let them have a few hours alone in a car together. How are things supposed to progress to the next level if they’re never alone where someone isn’t staring at them in this fishbowl of a town.”
“True,” Bea said. “And she’s not getting any younger. Remember, wedding comes before the baby.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I said, studying the ceiling.
Walt gathered his papers and squared them into a neat stack, and that seemed to be the signal for the others.
They helped clear the table and put the dishes in the sink, and then they gathered their things and headed out.
Bea went last, pausing at the door before saying, “Y’all don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. ”
The door closed behind her.
“We’ll have four hours each way,” he said, loading the dishwasher as I passed him rinsed plates. “That’s a lot of time alone in a car together.”
I looked at him over my shoulder. “Does that count as a date?”
“Maybe more than a date,” he said, waggling his brows. “We could stop at Pitt Street Bridge on the way home and see the view.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Now that is definitely something Bea would do.” Pitt Street Bridge was known as a make-out spot for teens and adults who didn’t have better sense.
He pushed off the counter and picked up his keys, and then leaned down to give me a quick kiss. “I noticed you didn’t say no. See you in the morning.”
I sighed as he let himself out. “Mabel, Mabel, Mabel.” And then I thunked my head on the kitchen cabinet. “You are most definitely in love.”