Double Cross Page 6

  She closed the apartment door and secured it. Few visited her, but those who did were always surprised. Like Wilmington. They’d mistaken her for a contemporary gal—high-tech, vivid colors, and abstract art. How would they react to Laurel Evertson’s need for the warmth of a traditional home, reminders of the ten-year-old who’d lost everything?

  Sinking into a tufted steel-blue Victorian sofa, she drew air into her lungs and buried her face in her hands. Behind her crime-fighting veneer lived a woman who longed for so much more if only she could find it. Keep it. Hold it tighter than her antiques.

  She glanced into the small dining area at her antique crystal chandelier, the most expensive piece she owned. An oak and mahogany library table rested beneath it with a green Depression glass bowl filled with wooden apples in a bed of apple spice–scented leaves. On the wall in her living area, a turn-of-the-century oak buffet held French opera glasses in dark and light mother-of-pearl. Beside it was a Chinese vase etched in greens with a pink dragon. On the other end of the buffet rested Little Women, a 1951 edition, a gift from Miss Kathryn. The rest of her two-bedroom apartment held the same items that appealed to her—old and intricately attractive. Eclectic but hers.

  After closing all the drapes in the living room, she walked to her bedroom. There in soothing colors of vintage blue—delicate robin egg–blue wallpaper, a blue-and-white upholstered chair and headboard, and a white chenille bedspread—she changed into workout clothes.

  How she hated the loneliness that fit like a tattered dress, but Wilmington had been right in his assessment. She’d go to her grave wondering what was wrong with her wretched soul. Why she’d let Jesse get killed. She’d never shared those dark parts of herself, yet a killer uncovered them. That’s why she couldn’t let anyone get close to her.

  4:00 P.M. FRIDAY

  Abby chuckled. Dark suits and no smiles. Had to be the FBI. Now to see if they could find out who’d been scamming the elderly, maybe learn how Tom really died.

  She wove through the staff scurrying about the front office toward Marsha, who was more nervous than a rabbit staring down a rifle barrel.

  “Marsha, who are these visitors?” Abby said.

  “Abby, I’m busy with these people. We can talk later.”

  “Are these gentlemen from the FBI?” Abby raised her voice. “You know Daniel took Earl and me to their office yesterday morning. If you haven’t been there, it’s off Highway 290. Lots of security. Anyway, we’re so upset about the scam and Tom’s death.”

  That worked. Abby jarred the attention of two special agents.

  “Ma’am, can I have a word with you?” one of the young men said.

  Actually 95 percent of the men in the world were young. “Yes, sir. I’d be glad to.”

  “We can talk in Miss Leonard’s office.”

  Abby followed him down the hall to the small room. He settled behind the desk, and she eased onto a chair. He introduced himself as Jack something or other.

  “I’m Abby Hilton, and I’m not a client here.” She explained how she accompanied Earl six days a week to Silver Hospitality.

  “Any relation to the new Hilton wing being added?” he said.

  She smiled. “We thought the facility needed to expand. Now, sonny, you aren’t here to talk about the new wing but what I know about the scam.”

  “Yes, ma’am. If you don’t mind, I’d like to record our interview.”

  “Go right ahead. Listen carefully ’cause I hate to repeat myself.” She drew in a breath. “I blame myself for this. Normally I spend the hours with Earl—that’s my husband—and our friends. But they were in a domino match, and I was bored. I walked to the front desk to speak with Marsha, but she was busy. I took a walk outside, and when I returned, Marsha still wasn’t free to chat.” The truth was Marsha and Chef Steven were involved in a chess game against each other, and neither wanted to be bothered. She didn’t want to see either of them fired, but their attention should be on their jobs, not on each other.

  “What happened then?”

  Abby snapped to attention. What was she doing slipping like that? She’d have to increase her ginkgo and green tea. “I returned to Earl, Tom, and Emma. A stranger was talking with them, and he introduced himself as Russell Jergon. He talked to Emma about life insurance. When he asked for money, my radar went nuts. I told him to leave. ‘Where’s your ID?’ I said.” She leaned closer to the agent. “Jergon had this rigor mortis smile going. Made some stupid comment about Emma wanting to make sure her family was taken care of after she was gone. Why, Emma doesn’t recognize her family half the time. I stomped off to get Marsha. By the time I got her pried away from her work, the salesman was gone.”

  “Ever see this Jergon fellow again?”

  “No, the slippery weasel. The next day I asked Earl if he’d bought life insurance from the man. He couldn’t remember, so I checked our accounts. Sure enough, another thirty thousand dollars was missing. The bank had flags on our account, but a VP said they’d received an e-mail from Earl to have the money deposited to another bank.” Abby snorted. “Now, do you think an old man with Alzheimer’s would have e-mail?”

  The thought of it again made her angrier at Marsha. While the woman had been engaged with a “knight,” good people were scammed.

  “Anything else?” the agent said.

  “What have you learned today?”

  “We haven’t written our reports.”

  Abby frowned. “You’ve been here since one o’clock. What about the files, backgrounds on staff, glitches in the security cameras? Did you check out Liz Austin, a staff member who quit yesterday? She was a floozy, and I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

  The agent jotted down something. “Mrs. Hilton, thank you for your statement.” He rose from his chair.

  Didn’t the suit understand Earl might have made a dent in Daniel’s inheritance . . . and their lives?

  CHAPTER 10

  7:30 P.M. FRIDAY

  Daniel settled into a recliner in his grandparents’ media room. Before Gramps clicked the remote to watch the recorded news, he needed to make a request.

  “Why don’t you two stay here for a few days until this scam thing is settled. I can make arrangements for a nurse.”

  “Forget it,” Gramps said. “Abby and I have friends there.”

  “Would you think about it?” Daniel said.

  “Nope.” He picked up the remote.

  In silence, they watched the local news air a press statement from Houston’s FBI media coordinator. He revealed four cases of elderly fraud involving false life insurance policies. Identical to his grandparents’ case. The report warned the community that, if approached, they should contact the FBI. A phone number was displayed on-screen. Interested persons could obtain additional information on the FBI’s website. Billboards would be up this weekend to assist in communicating the scam.

  “Agent Evertson’s a smart gal. I could tell,” Gramps said. “I’d like to see the jerks who swindled us lined up in front of a firing squad. And if they killed Tom, I’d pull the trigger myself.” He reached into a candy dish for a miniature Snickers bar, but Gran snatched it back. She guarded his sugar intake like a watchdog.

  “Those are for guests, and you’ve already had two,” she said.

  Gramps didn’t miss a beat. He reached for the candy with his other hand. “I’d share my Snickers with the good-looking gal from the FBI anytime.”

  “Earl!” Gran said. “You’re a married man.”

  “Married, yes. In love with you, yes. Blind, no.” He tossed her a grin that had won her over for seventy years.

  Daniel chuckled. He adored their bantering, and tonight Gramps showed few signs of his disease. “Better watch it, or you’ll be on the couch tonight.”

  “Aw, wouldn’t be the first time. You know, Agent Evertson treated me with respect instead of like a worthless old man.”

  “She had some spunk, too.” Gran didn’t look up from her knitting, where her fingers flew at
jet speed.

  Daniel wouldn’t reveal his conversations with her. “I’m glad you had a good experience.”

  Gramps chuckled and sat back in his recliner. “I read you better than a book, Daniel. You don’t think much of the pretty agent.”

  “What?” Where was this headed?

  “It’s the same problem you have with every woman you meet. If she’s intelligent—and Agent Evertson is definitely smart—you think she’s out to use you up and spit you out. If she’s drop-dead gorgeous, you think she’s like your mom. Brains and beauty together throw you way out of your comfort zone. Especially when you’re on a crusade to save the world.”

  This was not going as he anticipated. Last night Gramps talked about playing kick the can when he was a boy.

  “I’m right, so admit it.” Gramps crumpled the candy wrapper and tossed it back into the dish.

  “I’ve dated pretty girls.”

  “How many times have you taken one of them out more than twice?”

  Daniel had no plans of marrying, which fed into what Gramps believed was true. “You might be right.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I’d like to see you put a ring on a lady’s finger before I’m completely senile.”

  “And I’d like to hold a great-grandbaby or two.” Gran smiled. “A redheaded baby girl or boy.”

  “The right woman hasn’t crossed my path.” He shrugged. “Not sure if she ever will.”

  Gramps studied him, and Daniel feared he was slipping. Worse yet, a sermon might be on the tip of his tongue. “Son, open your heart to what God has for you. You’re running from everything reminding you of your mother. I’ve said this before, but you’ve got to forgive her and not blame every female for one woman’s mistakes.”

  Daniel picked up the glass of water and downed it, giving him time to form his response. “Every time I think I’ve grown and forgiven her, a reminder pops up and the bitterness nearly chokes me. I’m a grown man still acting like a kid.” He’d visit her soon for his reasons. But he had no intention of setting himself up for a land mine relationship with any woman.

  “Ask God to help you put your mother in the right perspective. Look at Abby. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “She’s different, and she’ll always be my best girl.”

  “Thank you, Daniel,” she said. “I’m not the only different woman out there.”

  Gramps picked up the TV remote. “The right one will step into your life when you least expect it.”

  “Have you always been so irritatingly wise?”

  “Ah, I push everyone to redemption, not just to cope with life’s hard punches.”

  Daniel smiled at the white-haired wisdom. “Thanks. But it won’t be Special Agent Laurel Evertson. She’s not my type.”

  Gramps laughed. “Famous last words. I’ll get off your case for now. I know they’d like for your gran and I to work with an artist about Russell Jergon. Should have done it when we were there, but I don’t think they took us seriously.”

  “I could take you there on my day off.”

  Gramps waved his hand. “Daniel, my cooperation depends on where my mind is. I can tell you what I ate for breakfast when I was twelve, but this morning is another matter.” He paused, tears filling his eyes. “Hate it when I can’t remember or when you tell me I’ve done something stupid.”

  “We take one day at a time.”

  “By helping the artist, I can contribute to society instead of taking advantage of it.”

  “Gramps, you’ve given much to others, and you still are. I will find the answers you and Gran need.” Daniel had already spoken to his superiors at HPD, but this was an FBI matter until a task force was formed. Didn’t stop him from his own investigation.

  CHAPTER 11

  9:25 A.M. SATURDAY

  Abby walked outside Silver Hospitality toward the new wing’s construction, her daily inspection. And that’s exactly what she wanted everyone to think while she called Special Agent Laurel Evertson with an offer.

  Slipping the business card from her pants pocket, she memorized the agent’s number and pressed it in. She breathed in a mix of fresh air and a prayer.

  Special Agent Evertson answered on the second ring.

  “This is Abby Hilton. We met on Thursday.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I won’t take up much of your time, but I wanted to talk about the case.”

  “Something new?”

  “I’d like to work undercover.”

  “You what?”

  “Hear me out. I’m at the facility six days a week. I have access to everything—files, gossip, visitor logs, the computer, and even the kitchen. I don’t ask permission, just do what I want discreetly. I could do a little snooping and report to you.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Humor an old lady,” Abby said. “But don’t tell my grandson. He’d have a hissy fit.”

  “Mrs. Hilton—”

  “Abby.”

  “And I’m Laurel. As innocent as what you’re suggesting seems, it could be dangerous.”

  “I’m already packing.”

  “Whoa. They allow you to carry a weapon at Silver Hospitality?”

  “Who’s going to tell them?”

  Laurel laughed. “I suppose you could keep your ears and eyes open.”

  “And my fingers. I’ll report in when I find something suspicious.”

  “And you’ll be careful?”

  “Who’s going to suspect an eccentric old lady?”

  “Do you have anything to tell me now?”

  Abby hesitated. “Observations maybe.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “A staff member quit after Daniel talked to her regarding the scam.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Liz Austin. She helped in the kitchen. The job didn’t fit her personality. I told the agent here yesterday, but he acted like I was a client.” Abby drew in a breath. “Whatever I say is to be held in strict confidence. I overheard Liz talking to Chef Steven. She offered herself in exchange for the rear kitchen door to be unlocked. Said she needed to take smoke breaks.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  “None of my business, and Marsha Leonard, the director, is a longtime friend. Never married and very much in love for the first time. With the chef.”

  “So she’s involved with a staff member.”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t tell Daniel about the unlocked door?”

  “I didn’t want to bother him about one more thing. Now that I think about it, it was a stupid move on my part. But it’s been locked since she left. And Russell Jergon hasn’t returned either.”

  “I haven’t heard a word that the security cameras exposed anyone smoking or entering the building through the rear entrance.”

  “The girl had an iPad in her purse. Used it constantly. I’m smart enough to understand the technology is there for her to temporarily disable the cameras.”

  “Wish I’d known this sooner. Thanks, I’ll look into Liz Austin. Abby, your financial institutions are aware of the fraud, right? They have special procedures to protect clients from fraud.”

  “After the money went missing, Daniel went with Earl and me to the bank, and we spoke to a vice president. Earl had obviously given the salesman his account number, so nothing could be done but close out the account and open another one. We were told if the bank became aware of a client who might be suffering from Alzheimer’s or any other physical or mental illness, they contact the Texas Health and Human Services Commission. The situation would be investigated to determine if the report was valid. Often, in the early stages of the disease, the client wouldn’t be doing anything unusual for them to suspect a problem. Most everything is centralized and electronic.”

  Abby sighed before continuing. “Daniel is the brains behind keeping us old people safe. He made sure the new account and the others are flagged so nothing can be withdrawn witho
ut all three of our signatures. A child or family member can’t waltz into the bank and announce a parent has Alzheimer’s and demand to be added on the account. Only an owner can make those arrangements unless the courts direct it.”

  “I feel better that he’s looking out for you.”

  “He’s a good man. Needs a good woman to complement him.” She wrapped up the call and pumped her fist into the air. Yes! About time she was useful again. And she already had her game day shirt on.

  Abby processed what she’d learned and headed to Chef Steven’s domain. Her first undercover assignment. She stood in the kitchen doorway and studied the bald, chubby man.

  “What do you need, Miss Abby?”

  “I’m bored. Is there something I could do? No need to tell the health department.”

  He waved a spatula like he was conducting a symphony. “I sure could use an assistant. I’ve got bananas and strawberries with a garnish of kiwi and mint ready for morning break, but the napkins, cups, and glasses haven’t been arranged appropriately.” He opened the oven to the delicious scent of fresh-baked pecan tarts. “I’m behind. Been that way since Liz quit.”

  She stacked china cups, crystal, and white linen napkins onto a wheeled serving cart. She’d already posed the question to Marsha about using items that could break or injure a client, but the facility’s handbook expressly stated using the best.

  “Great job,” he said.

  “I’ve done my share of cooking food for crowds, but not at your caliber. Just point me to what you want done.”

  “You’re a sweet breath of fresh air.”

  “What were Liz’s responsibilities?”

  “Clean up, serve.”

  “And keep you company?”

  “Not really. She had her own agenda.” He paused, and his face reddened. “She liked spending time with the clients, which is not a bad thing.”

  “I agree. Earl loved her. Said she was ‘hot.’”

  He laughed. “I shouldn’t have sounded critical. The one thing I valued were the afternoons. She gave me time to complete paperwork and visit with Miss Leonard.” He shrugged. “It would have been nice if she’d cleaned things to my satisfaction or prepared the afternoon snack. But I’m being critical again.”