"Well, yeah, I guess it might have looked that way. Beck did everything he could to soften the blow. He told the DA he didn't want to file charges, but I guess it's like a case of domestic violence – once the system gets hold of you, you don't have much choice. There's this big gap, three hundred and fifty thousand gone and him without an explanation."
"What happened to the money?"
"Nothing. He was socking it away, shifting the money to an offshore account so his wife couldn't get her hands on it. How was he supposed to know the judge would turn out to be such a hard-ass? Four years? My god. He was more shocked than I was."
"Really."
"I'm serious. He felt like a turd. He got in this big stinking argument with the prosecuting attorney. That went nowhere. Then he wrote to the judge, begging him to be lenient, but no such luck. He promised he'd have his attorney file an appeal -"
"An appeal? What are you talking about? Beck had no standing to file an appeal. The law doesn't work that way."
"Oh. Well, maybe I misunderstood. It was something like that. He said it was his responsibility and he'd take the blame, but by then, it was too late. He had more to lose than I did. How I looked at it, as long as he was free, he could work on getting the rest of the money set aside. Besides, he was taking all the risks. If somebody had to pay, better me than him."
"So you came up with the idea," I said, trying to keep the skepticism out of my voice.
"Sure. I mean, I can't exactly remember who mentioned it first, but I was the one who insisted."
"Reba- – I don't mean to sound critical so don't blow your stack-but it looks like he set you up. Doesn't it look like that to you?"
That was a stumper. "You think he'd do that?"
"He did this," I said, pointing to the photographs. "You're the one who toughed it out down there, day after day for the past twenty-two months. Meanwhile, Beck's up here screwing around. Doesn't that bug you? It bugs me."
"Of course it bugs me, but it's not exactly news. He's a womanizer. I've always known that about him. It doesn't mean anything. That's just the way he is. The reason I'm mad at her is she should've had more loyalty or integrity or something."
"You don't even know when it started. He could have been involved with her when the alleged embezzlement first came to light."
"Thank you. That's nice. Once I get done choking her to death, I'll have her verify dates and times."
"I hope that's hyperbole."
"Whatever that is," she said. "The thing I can't figure out is what this has to do with the FBI? Why's this guy chasing around town snapping pictures of Beck? And why bring 'em to me? If he wanted to make trouble, why not show Tracy?"
"I can help with that," I said, mentally cursing the bumblefuck FBI agent who jumped the gun on us. I stopped, poised on the brink. There was still time to back up. This was like standing on a ten-meter platform, looking at the drop to the water below. If you're going to jump, get it over with. It doesn't get easier the longer you wait. I felt a thin mist of anxiety settle on my skin. "The feds are interested in Beck's relationship with Salustio Castillo."
She studied me. "Where'd you get that?"
"Reba, you worked for the guy. You have to be clued in."
She veered off that topic. "Did Pop put you up to this?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I haven't spoken to him since he hired me. Besides, he's an honorable man. He'd never stoop to sleazy photos. He's got way too much class."
She took another deep drag and blew the smoke straight up. "What's your source then?"
"I have pals in law enforcement. It was one of them."
"And the FBI's involved?"
"The IRS is interested as well. Plus Customs, plus the DOJ, plus the ATF for all I know. Lieutenant Phillips is the local liaison if you want to talk to him."
"I don't get it. Why me? What do they want?"
"They need help. They're putting a case together and need the inside dope. I guess the pictures were intended to get you in the mood."
"He screws me over so I turn around and screw him?"
"Why not?"
"What else have you heard?"
"About Beck? Nothing you don't already know. He takes the illegal profits and he runs the funds through his company to make them look legitimate. He takes a percentage off the top and then he returns clean money to the thugs he works for. Right?"
She was silent. Her gaze shifted an inch.
I said, "You had to have been in on it all along. You did the books for him, bank deposits, stuff like that, right?"
"The company comptroller handled most of it, but okay, maybe some."
"The FBI can use information if you're willing to play."
She was silent, her gaze tracking the dust motes settling through the air like fairy dust. "I'll think about it."
I said, "While you're at it, think about this. Onni has your old job, which means she knows as much about his business as you do, except her information's current. If he's planning to disappear, who's he going to take with him? More to the point, who's he leaving behind? Onni? Don't think so. Not if she's in a position to blow the whistle on him."
"I'm in that position, too," she said, as though feeling competitive about her ability to squeal. She held up the last inch of her cigarette. "I have to put this out."
"Give it to me."
I reached over and took the butt end, holding it with about as much enthusiasm as I'd feel for a freshly salted slug. I left the office and carried it down the hall to my tatty toilet with the permanent rust stains. I dropped it in the John and flushed. I could feel the tension between my shoulder blades. This was work and I had no way to tell if the pitch would be effective. If nothing else, I hoped she'd give up her fantasy of what Beck was.
When I returned to the office, she was standing by the window. I sat down at my desk. With the light coming in, she was almost entirely in silhouette. I picked up a pencil and made a mark on my blotter. "Where's your head at this point?"
She turned and smiled at me briefly. "Not as far up my butt as it was."
And that was where we left it.
I told her to take her time thinking about the situation before she decided what to do. Vince Turner might be in a hurry, but he was asking a lot and, one way or the other, she'd better be convinced. Once she'd agreed, he couldn't afford to have her changing her mind. I watched her through the window. She got in her car and sat there long enough to light up again and then she took off. Once I knew she was gone, I put a call through to Cheney and laid out the sequence of events, including the hapless FBI agent who'd put the plan at risk.
He said, "Shit."
"That was my reaction."
"Damn. And there's no name on this crud?"
"None, and no description of him, either. I'd have pressed her for details, but I was too busy trying to act like I didn't know the whole of it in advance."
"She buy it?"
"I'd say so. In the main. Anyway, I thought you'd want to call Vince and let him know where we stand."
"Which is where?"
"I'm not sure. Reba needs time. This is a lot to digest."
"Doesn't sound like she was that surprised."
"I think she's always known more than she lets on. Now that it's out in the open, we'll see what she does with it."
"Makes me nervous."
"Me, too. Let me know what Vince says."
"Will do. See you later."
"Okey-doke," said I.
Chapter 14
I closed the office at 5:00, locked the door behind me, and retrieved my car. I drove the long way home so I could stop at my favorite service station and fill the tank with gas. As I cruised down State Street past the heart of town, I spotted a familiar figure. It was William in a dark fedora and a dark three-piece suit, walking briskly toward Cabana Boulevard, swinging his black malacca stick. I slowed and honked, pulling over to the curb. I leaned over and rolled down the window on the passenger side. "You want a ride?"