Coffee & Crime (44 page)

I looked up from the envelope and made a face. "Why?"

Zelda shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it will make more sense now. A lot has happened since the last time you read it."

I sighed and pulled the letter out of the envelope. "Fine." I read the letter aloud:

"Dear Scotti,

If you're reading this then chances are, you've opened the briefcase because I'm no longer here.

Due to certain confidences, I can't explain many things to you that I wish I could share. The items in this case may help you to put the pieces together. I hope so, because I won't be there to do it myself. So now, unfortunately it falls to you.

You're an exceptionally bright woman and I'm confident that your sharp intuitive mind will lead you to the right conclusions.

I'm sorry that our plans never came to fruition
—
I was looking forward to becoming a born again foodie and helping you realize your goals. No matter where I am, please know that I always believed in you, and don't give up.

Keep your chin up and look to the silver lining when all else fails.

Your friend,

George"

Zelda smirked and threw up her hands. "Nope, still doesn't make sense."

I stared at the letter and reread it several times, then wiggled my fingers at Zelda. "Give me the briefcase."

"Why?"

I wiggled my fingers again. "Just bring it."

Zelda bent, scooped up the case and put it on the butcher-block. "Scotti..."

I shushed her and stared at the case. George gave me the case for a reason. The contents weren't random pieces of paper or objects, they were pieces of a puzzle. He was concerned about betraying confidences, but whose? Perhaps Eric's skills weren't

lacking
—
George had intentionally made it difficult to get into those files. Because of the confidences? Was he protecting someone? Who? Peggy said she knew of no reason for George to go back to the office the night he died. Had he gone there to meet someone? To discuss the things he couldn't share with me?

I drummed my fingers on the counter top. "Call Eric."

Zelda pulled out her phone and dialed. "Why?"

I held out my hand for the phone. "Eric, it's Scotti. Listen, is there a program or software or other computer thing called silver lining? Or silver something? Or lining something?"

Eric hummed while he thought. Computer keys clacked from his end. He mumbled to somebody in the room with him, but I couldn't hear the conversation. "Nope. Never heard of it. Why?"

"Something George said to me." And what Ted said the other night about the phone. "Do you have the phone with you? Right there?"

Eric grunted like I was annoying him. "Yeah, I’ve got it."

"I don’t remember what it looks like. Is it silver? Or is there anything on it that’s silver?"

Eric paused. "Yeah, the back is silver."

My heart started revving. "Anything on the back? Numbers or anything like that?"

I heard Eric fumbling with phone and the chink of plastic pieces. "I’ll be damned."

At two o'clock the next day, Zelda, Joe, Ted, Eric and I huddled in Room 317 of a Travel Lodge in Sun Valley. Drapes drawn and the door locked, we paced with anticipation. George had been very clever. The silver lining turned out to be the battery in the phone — underneath which lay a piece of paper with the codes we’d needed for the flash-drive. It was so obvious, yet none of us ever thought to open the phone.

With the flash drive accessed, we had only to look inside to see the last breadcrumbs George had scattered behind him. And it was the end
—
no matter what we found. Either George's pieces would fit together and provide the answers, or we'd have to accept defeat and walk away.

Finally, Eric said, "We're in!"

The files were numbered, one, two and three.

The first file was Cavender's final report on Lily. The long and detailed document included Lily's background, day-to-day movements, her credit standing and every detail that Cavender could unearth about her. The summary provided the important details:

Lily was born in 1992, making it impossible for her to have been George's biological daughter. Cavender believed the samples given for testing came from Lauren. Lily could've easily obtained a sample of Lauren's hair from a brush or comb, passed it off as hers and given it to the lab for testing.

Lily had bad credit and a history of writing bad checks, yet six weeks before arriving in California, her debts were paid in full.

Lily's mother, Laura Carson, was verified as the same Laura Carson George had known in his youth. Laura was diagnosed with stage four lymphoma and died less than a year after the diagnosis. Because her prognosis was grim, Laura was released from the hospital and received hospice care in her home during her final days. But the care only

consisted of pain management and patient comfort. Aside from a part-time hospice nurse, Lily was the main caretaker and had trained for the basic care her mother required. She knew how to put in an IV, change IV bags, assist her mother with showering and bed pans, and administering injections. Lily was also certified in CPR.

Laura died in her sleep due to cardiac arrest. Her doctor was surprised by her sudden death because a new medication had shown promise. But no evidence of foul play was discovered.

Included with the report were surveillance photographs. I found the photo of Lily sporting spiky blue and platinum hair, heavy black eye make-up and a nose ring, the most interesting. Her makeover must've taken a lot time and money. Laura's life insurance policy named Lily as the sole beneficiary and the $50,000 settlement explained the debt pay off and the new wardrobe and makeover.

Despite Cavender's duty to maintain George’s confidentiality, I was appalled that he'd kept the information to himself. Lily had clearly committed fraud. Even after George's death, she continued the charade
—
surely he could've gone to the police. On the bright

side, I'd be happy to hand over the file to the cops because I had no duty to keep any of it to myself. And if nothing else, I'm sure Maggie would ensure Lily served time for that.

The second file was a single document with two items: an email address and a password. The email address was for a website that offered free email accounts. Eric pulled up the account, typed in the password and the email account opened. There was only one email in the in-box with the subject line: New videos have been uploaded to your account.

Eric yipped and cracked his knuckles. "All righty then, show time!" He clicked on the link, and the page redirected to a website called, The Secret Eye. The website provided discreet security services and technology, and offered online storage of the surveillance

videos. Eric paused and frowned. "I need his username or password."

"Try the email address and password we have," Ted suggested.

Eric tried but the login failed. He returned to the list of files. He clicked on the third file and it too was a single document with two items: a user name and password. "Crafty for an old dude, eh?" He typed in the new username and password and we gained entrance into George's account. Eric clicked on the VIDEOS tab and the page redirected to a list of videos. The files were listed by date and assigned numbers. "Zads, there's over forty vids. Who's getting the pizza and popcorn?"

I leaned in and scanned the dates. "These two are from the day he died. Let's try those, first."

Eric frowned and pointed to his screen. "What about this one? Same date."

I shook my head. "It’s the video of Peggy." I pointed to the time column. "See, ninety seconds." I frowned. "But if her video was on his phone, why weren’t these?"

Eric shrugged. "Sometimes shit doesn’t forward. Doesn’t matter, let’s see what we’ve got." He downloaded the video to his laptop then started. "Show time!"

Taking in a collective breath, we huddled around the computer screen to watch.

The video started and George's face filled the screen. The picture jiggled as he adjusted the camera, and when it settled down, we had a wide angle view of George's desk. He came back into frame, carrying a couple of brownies on a paper napkin. Then set the brownies on the desk and pulled up his chair.

He reached for the brownies, but his attention was drawn to the door. With a brief grin, George put out his arm and reached across the desk. Nick Farmer stepped into frame, dressed in his ripped jeans and hoodie, and shook George's hand. Farmer pulled up a

visitor chair and sat.

Eric turned up the sound but there was no audio. "He forgot to turn on the microphone."

Their conversation was animated, but without audio, we had to rely on body language to decipher the purpose of the meeting. The two men were comfortable with each other, even friendly. Farmer pulled out a tablet, fiddled with the screen and handed it across the desk to George.

George frowned, looked to Farmer, to the screen, then back at Farmer. He nodded and gave the tablet back to Farmer, who set it aside.

Not happy about whatever Farmer had shown him, George swiveled in his chair and faced the camera. He rubbed his chin in thought, then turned back to Farmer and nodded.

Farmer stood, reached across the desk and shook George's hand again. And said something.

"I'll be in touch," Ted said. I looked up at him. "Farmer said, I'll be in touch."

George stood, said something, then pointed to the brownies on the desk. Farmer smiled, shook his head and said something.

"Stay strong," Ted said.

George nodded, offered a hand flick as a goodbye and Farmer left. He stared at the door for a few seconds, then reached for a brownie, then stopped himself. He stood and walked out of frame.

The video ended.

Zelda scrunched her face. "George and Farmer were friends? In what world does that make sense?"

I put my hand on Zelda's shoulder to quiet her. "Let's watch the other video before we try to figure out what they mean, okay?" Everyone nodded. "Go ahead Eric, play the next video."

Eric downloaded the next video and clicked it.

George approached his desk carrying a cup of coffee. He pulled up his chair and snagged one of the brownies — eating it in three bites. He took a sip of coffee, then gobbled the second brownie. It was clear to me that the meeting with Farmer had rattled George because his habit was to savor his food, not swallow it whole.

The endorphins from the chocolate kicked in because he smiled like a happy child for a few seconds. But the euphoria was short-lived, and he hunched over a notepad on his desk, tapped his pen, then tossed the pen aside. Leaning back in his chair, George put his feet up on the desk and stared at his shoes for a few moments. But he couldn't relax.

He swung his feet back to the floor and wiped at the desk top with the napkin. Then he balled up the napkin and tossed it onto the desk. From the desk drawer he withdrew a bottle of liquor, poured a good splash into his coffee and set the bottle on the desk top.

As though struck by a sudden idea, George picked up his pen, wrote with intensity and purpose, like something drove him. Sipping his coffee between thoughts, his pen flew across the pages like it was angry. Then as quickly as he'd begun he stopped
—
falling back against his chair as though struck.

He cradled his stomach with his hands and panted as though he couldn't breathe. He wiped at his eyes and squinted, trying to focus. His mouth moved as though he couldn’t control it. I watched in horror, knowing what was happening to him. His system was reacting to the brownie and shutting down and he fought against it like a drowning man.

With trembling hands George reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew an injector. Gasping, he popped off the cap and plunged the injector into his thigh. His movements were clumsy and he had trouble pulling the needle out of his leg. The trembling and

panting rapidly became worse.

Gasping to get air into his lungs, George clawed at his tie but it didn't seem to help. He fumbled in the desk drawer for something, and the look that came over his face when he realized it wasn't there was heartbreaking. Pale and trembling uncontrollably, he struggled to his feet using the desk for support. Reaching for the phone, he swayed then collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Within moments, Lily walked into frame. She crouched next to George and said something to him. Smiling smugly, she stood and scanned the room as though running through a checklist in her head. She moved toward the camera, ducked out of sight and when back in frame, held the pink cardboard box of brownies in her hands. She sneered at George, blew him a kiss and laughed.

Lily's attention was drawn away from her gloating to the door. Distressed, she took a couple of steps back. Her face flushed and she said something.

"I can explain," Ted interpreted.

Jake stepped into frame, smiling. He sidled up to Lily, and he spoke to her, but his position prevented Ted from reading his lips. Lily's expression changed from fear to satisfaction, and she nodded agreeably.

Lily set the box of brownies on the desk, reached for the napkins and empty injector but suddenly became startled and looked toward the door. Jake waved her away from the desk. She grabbed the box of brownies before Jake took her by the arm and hustled her out of the room.