Clare interrupted. “Her mother said she got the offer directly from the CEO.”
“However, two weeks after Tally died, they still haven’t replaced her. Despite the position being so important they were going to send her back to Iraq.”
Russ held up a hand. “It didn’t occur to you that they might have difficulty filling a position that involved living and working in a war zone?”
“Chief, you found the missing money at the resort, right? Doesn’t that argue for another person on the inside? Wyler McNabb couldn’t have been popping in and out of the Algonquin Waters all the time. He was part of the construction division.”
“A bookkeeper,” Clare said. “Somebody in a position to retrieve the cash and launder it.”
Russ shook his head. “That was Tally McNabb’s job.”
“ After the last bookkeeper conveniently died at the end of July,” Eric said. “That money was stolen at least five months before then.”
“I’m guessing you’re the one who came up with some theory tying the two women together,” Russ said to Clare. “What is it?”
“Ellen Bain was the third partner. She helped hide the money, and she greased the way for Tally to replace her.”
“Why?” Russ said before she could continue.
“A big payoff,” she said.
“Another job,” Eric said. “She was long divorced, and her only kid was leaving for college. Nothing to keep her from moving somewhere bigger, with more opportunities.”
“Do you know the Bain woman suggested Tally McNabb for her job?” Russ sounded skeptical.
Eric rubbed the back of his neck. “No.”
“Did the HR director indicate Bain had anything to do with Tally McNabb getting the job? I mean, as opposed to her husband, who was a foreman on their overseas construction unit?”
Eric shook his head.
Clare jumped in. “Tally’s mother says Wyler credited his wife with getting him his job.”
“Uh-huh. And that fits in with your theory how?”
She opened her mouth. Shut it again. “I haven’t had time to integrate all my facts yet.”
“Did she rope you into this?” Russ asked Eric.
Two cars driving past the house slowed nearly to a crawl, their drivers rubbernecking at the Bains’ porch. Clare realized they must look like the beginning of a shaggy dog story. A cop, a soldier, and a priest walk into a bar… Russ must have had the same thought, because he gestured toward the door. “Inside.”
Roxanne, true to her word, had turned on every lamp and overhead in sight. The wide, wooden-floored living room and parlor were sparsely furnished, making the place look bigger than it must have when it housed mother and daughter.
The tap-tap-tap of heels announced Roxanne’s descent from the second floor. “Well! Everything all straightened out?” Her smile wobbled a bit when she saw Eric was still with them, but she rallied. “What would you like to see first?”
“Personal papers,” Eric said. “Checkbooks, tax records, bank and investment statements.”
The Realtor’s professionally groomed eyebrows went up. “I beg your pardon?”
“We have permission from Olivia Bain to look at any financial records her mother might have left behind,” Clare explained.
Roxanne turned to Russ as if seeking a translation. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I’m just a cop.” He frowned and turned to the other officer in the room. “Do you want to explain why you’re wearing your Guard uniform, Eric?”
Eric opened his mouth. He paused. Shook his head. “No.”
Russ glanced up at the ceiling as if seeking divine patience. He took a deep breath. “Listen. Colonel Seelye has taken custody of the money on behalf of the army.”
“You let her walk away with it?” Clare said.
“She was backed up by a platoon of MPs and a light bird from the judge advocate’s office. I didn’t have much say in the matter.”
Eric sounded outraged. “But Lyle said you thought she was-”
Russ cut Eric off. “I thought wrong.” He looked sidelong toward Clare. “I want you to note, I can admit when I’m wrong about something. Quentan Nichols was placed under arrest-”
“Oh, no!”
“-and I suspect Wyler McNabb will be in custody as soon as they can coordinate with the appropriate coalition authorities.” Russ hooked his thumbs in his gun belt, a gesture that never failed to get Clare’s back up. “The case, which was never ours to begin with, is closed. It’s all up to the lawyers’ wrangling now.”
“Well!” Roxanne’s voice was professionally upbeat. “If that’s all settled, I’d love to show you the kitchen.”
“Chief, you still have two women, both working in the same job, both dead within three months of each other.” Eric’s voice was heavy and low. “If Ellen Bain’s death wasn’t the accident we thought it was, that will be our case.”
Russ looked at Eric steadily. “I’m going to overlook the fact that you’re on suspension and have no business being here. For the moment. You were the investigating officer for the Bain death. Did you uncover anything that indicated her car wreck wasn’t an accident?”
“No, but-”
“She tested positive for alcohol in her autopsy, and she wasn’t wearing her seat belt.”
“She was under the limit. Barely, but under.” Eric sounded defensive. “And she was well known for not buckling up.”
Russ’s eyes unfocused slightly. “We never had the car checked for mechanical failure.”
“There wasn’t any need. The accident reconstruction backed up the witnesses’ statements.”
Russ frowned. Clare held her breath. She knew him. If there was one question to a story, one thread left dangling, he couldn’t resist. He’d go after it.
Then why didn’t you accept it when he said Tally’s death was a suicide?
“Okay. Yeah.” He rubbed his forehead. “It couldn’t hurt to dig a little deeper.”
“Wonderful!” Clare turned toward the Realtor. “Roxanne-”
He held up one hand. “For the paid professionals to dig a little deeper. Roxanne, do you know where Ms. Bain’s financial records and personal papers might be?”
“Not here.” She sounded as if she had finally accepted this wasn’t going to be an open house for the future Mr. and Mrs. Van Alstyne. “We cleared the place out after her daughter went off to school. After the owner dies is the best time to show a property,” she confided. “You don’t have to find a spot for all the stuff people live with.”
“Where did it go?” Russ asked.
“The furniture that wasn’t sold is being stored in her mother-in-law’s barn. Violet Bain. All the papers and the computer went to Ms. Bain’s brother. He was the executor.”
Russ nodded. “Does he live around here?” Do I know him?
“Oh, yes he does. He set that leg you broke so spectacularly a few winters back. He’s Dr. George Stillman, the orthopedic surgeon.”
Will was stretched out on the weight bench in his bedroom, pumping iron, when he heard the doorbell’s muffled chime. He ignored it, concentrating on his balance, his form, controlling the shaking of his too-weak muscles. Lifting without feet to brace against the floor was a challenge. Taking his body back after doing his damnedest to poison it was a challenge. Everything in his life was a frigging challenge.
He heard his father’s footsteps in the hall. He quickly reset the bar into its cradle and used it to chin himself into a seated position. Dad would give him hell if he saw Will had been bench pressing without a spotter. His father knocked and entered. “Willem? You’ve got a visitor.”
Will swabbed his face with the bottom of his T-shirt. “Reverend Clare?”