“Yes. Several hundred a month, I believe. Now let's see if we can plug in all the digits.”
Using the assumption that the first column of characters consisted of check numbers in sequential order we were able to narrow down the possible translations into digits for all the letters in the code. We started looking at the check numbers on the register to see if we could locate the actual checks being referred to. After some trial and error, Wesley hit upon it.
“All the checks in the code appear to have been written to the same place, a company called Superior Grocers. I believe it's a wholesale food company. If we assume that, I think we can make all the numbers fit.”
We could. We were able to fill in not only the check numbers but the other two columns as well. When we finished we took a look at what we had. We compared each of our rows of three figures, presumably representing a check number and two dollar amounts, to the check register. Since all the checks had been written for whole dollar amounts, it appeared that the cents had been dropped from the numbers in the code.
“If these two columns are dollar amounts,” I said, they don't relate to the actual amounts of the checks.
“But look,” Wesley said, “the amount of each check is between the amounts in the two columns.”
We looked at each other. “Subtract the smaller number from the larger,” we said, together. He grabbed his calculator, but I did the calculations in my head before he could key in the numbers. “The amount of each check is equal to the second column minus the third column!” I exclaimed. What do you think that means?”
Wesley's wheelchair-bound wife, Angie, wheeled herself into the room at that moment. Wesley put his finger to his lips. He didn't want to upset her with the implications of what we were finding, because of the precarious state of her health.
She offered us refreshments in the living room. I was bursting to talk more with Wesley, but for the next 20 minutes I played lady, sipping coffee and eating delicious little cookies. I remembered the allegation about Wesley, that he was having an affair with Ida, and wondered if it was true. Angie seemed so happy, so content, considering her reduced physical circumstances, that I for one would never say anything to her. Whatever else Wesley did, he took good care of her.
I also noticed several framed examples of calligraphy for the first time. Complete with fancy capital letters and colored flower designs. I admired them out loud and Wesley acknowledged that he had produced them.
Just when I couldn't sit still any longer, Wesley suggested that we return to the study and finish our “work,” as he called it in front of Angie. As soon as we were out of earshot of Angie I asked, “Who is the woman in the bridge club whose name sounds like a nut?”
“You mean Hazel?”
“Hazel, that's it. Do you know her very well?” Well enough to have her accuse you of sleeping with Ida?
He laughed, shortly, and said, “She doesn't like me. She thinks I cheated her at a bridge session one time because I wouldn't let her add her honors to her score. It would have given her and her partner high-point total for the session. Why, has she been badmouthing me? It wouldn't be the first time.”
I stumbled around for words and finally said, “I-I…she told me she walks around Silver Acres every morning, but I've never seen her.”
“I doubt that. Most of the time she uses a walker.”
Come to think of it, hadn't there been a walker standing near the bench where Hazel and I had our clandestine meeting? She was sitting when I arrived and sitting when I left. She hadn't been to bridge club, recently, and I didn't have a mental picture of her either with or without a walker. Wesley's words had been spontaneous and unrehearsed. I felt like a juror, hearing conflicting testimony. Who should I believe, him or Hazel? I chose Wesley.
Wesley started talking about Carol. His usually florid face became even redder as he spoke. “Carol fired her accountant about a year ago. Within a few weeks she hired a bookkeeper, at a lower level than the accountant. Since Friday I have been dealing with Denise, the bookkeeper, who gave me the information I have been looking at. In talking to her I found out some disturbing things. Carol has been doing the computerized bank reconciliation herself. This is disturbing because she has signing authority and, according to Denise, Carol writes some of the checks.”
“No checks and balances,” I said.
“Exactly,” Wesley said without cracking a smile. “Denise doesn't see the bank statements; the information gets fed to her by Carol so she can do the financial reports. So this check register we've been going over is produced by Carol.”
“And we don't know whether the check amounts agree to the bank statements.”
“My guess is that the figures in column two of the code represent the actual amounts of the checks. Column three is the amount kicked back to Carol. The difference is kept by Superior Grocers, and represents what Silver Acres owed them plus a bonus for keeping quiet about the arrangement.”
“If you're right,” I said, scanning the figures in column three of the code, “Silver Acres is out something over $200,000.”
“Thus the temporary cash flow problem.”
“How can we verify that?”
“By getting duplicate copies of the bank statements. I'll have Denise order them today, without telling Carol.”
“Carol is well paid,” I said. “I can't understand why she would do something like this.”
“I've gotten to know her pretty well,” Wesley said. “Her father was ill for a long time and just recently died. Carol said something about him not having enough medical insurance.”
“So you think she was helping to pay his bills…”
“I don't know, but it's a possibility.”
I thought of something. I found my address book in my purse and looked for the attorney who was executor of Gerald's will. I couldn't remember his name so I had to page through the whole book until I came to W. It was Wheeler, Walter Wheeler. I wished I could remember names as well as I could remember numbers.
I called his office and got past the person who answered the phone by speaking in an urgent voice. When Mr. Wheeler came on the line I asked him for the names of the two people who had witnessed the codicil to Gerald's will that gave additional money to Silver Acres. After a pause he told me they were Carol Grant and Joe Turner.
I hung up the phone and turned to Wesley. “Carol knew all along that Gerald's bequest to Silver Acres was $500,000 instead of $100,000,” I told him. I had told him about the $500,000 earlier.
“Interesting,” Wesley said, with the look of a predator who has picked up the scent of the prey. “I wonder if she hoped to replace the difference between her books and the bank figures with the money from Gerald's will and planned to tell the world he gave Silver Acres less than he actually did.”
“If so, I guess I ruined her plan.”
“No wonder she kicked you out.”
“Except that she didn't know I knew until after I was gone. But when I told her I knew she didn't admit she knew.” I let that sink into my brain. “If she's cooking the books, wouldn't she have been caught, eventually?”
“A good auditor would catch her. That's why she needed to replace the money.”
“That's why she needed to have Gerald dead.”
“What are you saying?”
“Listen, let me know what you find out about the bank statements, okay? Meanwhile, I've got to investigate a murder.”
“Were you able to decode the code?”
“No, it's all gibberish to me. I'm giving up on it.” I had walked to Tess' apartment from Wesley's. I couldn't tell her the truth because Wesley had sworn me to secrecy, on pain of perpetual torture, while he was investigating the possibility that Carol had embezzled money from Silver Acres. If Carol got wind of it she would undoubtedly try to kill the investigation, if not the investigator.