Thirteen Diamonds Page 14

  “What have you been doing with yourself?” Tess asked.

  I told her. When I mentioned I had solved the oddball puzzle, she said, “Well, at least you don't have Alzheimer's.”

  “That's comforting to know.”

  “By the way, you left Silver Acres just in time. All us inmates received notices in our mailboxes today saying that our monthly fees need to be raised by two percent.”

  “They just raised the monthly fees in January. And there's only supposed to be one increase a year.”

  “Right. Which is why we have to vote on this one. There's going to be a general meeting tonight to acquaint us with the reasons for it. But you should be proud of me. I'm not taking this lying down. I've already called Wesley, our gallant leader, and complained to him.”

  “And what did Wesley say?”

  “He said that Carol advised him of the necessity for the increase on Friday. Like the good accountant that he is, he asked to see the books. Carol said fine and put him in touch with her bookkeeper. So he is in the process of looking them over.”

  It wasn't a bad idea to have a CPA as president of the residents' association. After I said goodbye to Tess, I called Wesley on a hunch.

  After our hellos, he said, “I was shocked when Tess told me you have been evicted from Silver Acres. I'm looking into it. I suspect it was unjustified, in which case I'm going to get you back in. In fact, I wish you had come to me before you agreed to leave.”

  I'd never thought of that. I guess I had been in a state of shock, myself, especially since Albert had a part in the plot. I thanked Wesley for his help but mentioned that my apartment was probably already taken.

  “No, it isn't,” Wesley said. “I made Carol promise to hold it open until I have a chance to investigate. I may take this to the board.”

  Good old Wesley. After thanking him again I said, “I understand that you're also looking at the books of Silver Acres because of the proposed increase in fees.” When he acknowledged that he was, I said, “I just may have some information pertinent to that. I can't talk about it on the phone. Are you available tomorrow morning?”

  “I'll make myself available because this is important. And I'll know more in the morning because we're having a residents' meeting tonight and I'll hear the official version of why we need the increase.”

  After I hung up I smiled at myself in the mirror. I told my image that I wasn't trying to get back at Carol, but if she was doing something that wasn't completely legitimate, it should be brought out in the open.

  CHAPTER 24

  I thought I was good with numbers, but Wesley had over 40 years of practical experience in dealing with columns of figures, and I was immediately awed by his wizardry.

  When I showed him Carol's code I told him it had been copied from her notebook, but I didn't provide any details as to how it had come into my possession. Thankfully, he didn't. I briefly went over the thought process I had gone through to determine that the letters must represent numbers.

  He agreed with me and said, “In fact, this has a familiar look to it. I was just examining the check register for Silver Acres. The check numbers are four digits; the first column in your code could be check numbers.”

  While he sorted through some papers, looking for the check register, he said, “Last night, Carol told the assembled multitudes the reason we need a fee increase is because of a temporary cash flow problem. She gave a reason for it but her explanation was too tortuous and I couldn't follow it. And anything I can't follow I won't buy. She emphasized the temporary nature of the problem and promised there wouldn't be another fee increase next January.”

  “So you voted against it?” I said, wondering how I would have voted.

  “The vote is going to be taken by mail to ensure that everybody gets a chance to vote. It has to be favored by a majority of all residents. Ah, here we are.” Wesley pulled out a number of pages of computer printout.

  “The current check numbers are in the 6,000 range,” he said. He compared it to the code. “The S can't be a six because there are too many different second digits. It's probably a five. Which makes P equal to four. Here's an SS or 55, which confirms it because they haven't reached 6600 yet.”

  “If these are check numbers,” I said, they cover a range of 1600 to 1800 checks. They must write a lot of checks here.”

  “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.

  “Does this mean you're going back to living a normal life?” Tess asked. “Rocking in your rocking chair and knitting little things for your great grandson?”

  “My great grandson is already too big for little things. And the answer is, not quite. I still want to satisfy myself in one area. Who put the shellfish in the casserole and when did they do it?”

  Tess sighed a long sigh and said, “I suppose you need my help.”

  “I'd like to bounce some things off you. Could you get the pad you've been using to take notes on the case?”

  Tess dutifully produced the lined, yellow pad and sat on her couch, ready to write.

  I paced up and down her living room, trying to think. “Let's talk about the fire alarm because I have a feeling there is a link between that and the shellfish showing up in the casserole.”

  “Unless Harriet put it in before she took it to the recreation room.”

  “Okay, but let's not worry about that at the moment.” I didn't want to worry about it because I didn't know of any way of checking it. “First of all, how did the fire alarm get set off?”

  “Carol said it was a false alarm. I guess we could ask her if she tracked it down.”

  Talking to Carol was the last thing I wanted to do. “There are a number of fire alarm switches in the main building so it could have been set off at any one of them. By anybody. Including the person with the shellfish. You're still a member of the Housekeeping Committee, aren't you?”

  “Yes,” Tess admitted.

  “So you know Joe Turner.”

  “Yes.”

  “Could you talk to him about safety procedures? Ask him how the fire alarm system works and whether it's possible to tell which switch set it off.” I wanted to add that I would go with her to ogle Joe, but decided not to push my luck.

  “You don't want much, do you? It's a good thing I like you.”

  I stopped pacing and put a hand on Tess' shoulder. “You know you want to solve this as much as I do. I can tell you one thing. Ellen didn't set off the alarm. I remember I saw her using her cellular phone at the time the alarm went off.”

  ***

  Albert was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, as my mother used to say. If you're not a farmer you don't want to know the story behind that saying. He had just come home from the university. I was making dinner, like a good housewife.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.

  “I can't find Carol's beeper number,” he said. “I'm supposed to take her to the symphony tonight but we've called an emergency department meeting. She's not in her office and she's not at home.”

  Of course I couldn't tell Albert about the suspicions Wesley and I had about Carol. I didn't want to be the one to do it, anyway, because he would say I was prejudiced against her. He would be right.

  Albert doesn't have a pocket computer with names and phone numbers, or even an address book. He depends on slips of paper. He probably inherited his organizational skills from me, although I at least have an address book.

  He finally found the correct slip sitting beside the kitchen telephone. I glanced over his shoulder at the paper as he punched in the number: 248-3186. I memorized it in my inimitable way: two, two-squared, two-cubed, the two lowest odd digits in descending sequence and the two highest even digits in descending sequence. After a pause I watched Albert punch in his home phone number and hang up. Five minutes later Carol called.

  After a hasty dinner Albert dashed out, leaving me alone again. I washed and wiped the dishes, eschewing the use of Albert's dishwasher since there weren't many of them and I have never owned a dishwasher, myself. When I had finished I was faced with an evening with nothing special to do. In spite of making a show of moving ahead, with Tess and
Wesley, I didn't have a plan for continuing the murder investigation.

  I had possibly contributed to nailing Carol as an embezzler. I should be glad about that because with her gone I could probably return to Silver Acres. Still, it was too soon to award me a Nobel Prize for scam-busting. I pulled out my copy of Carol's code. Wesley had made his own copy on the machine at Silver Acres.

  I looked at the number scribbled in the corner of the sheet. Was it a telephone number? I picked up the phone and punched it in. On the fourth ring I heard a hello from a voice I recognized. I waited for the hello to be repeated, to make sure. Then I hung up.

  CHAPTER 25

  The timing had to be perfect. I don't usually sweat very much, but my skin was clammy and I felt the kind of excitement I hadn't felt since riding on the Matterhorn Bobsleds at Disneyland many years before.

  I waited outside the door to the recreation room as the bridge players strolled in. I greeted most of them. A few looked surprised to see me; Ellen didn't look at me at all. After she passed me and entered the room I surreptitiously followed her with my eyes. She picked up her table assignment from Wesley, just as we had planned, and went directly to her table. She placed her handbag on the seat of her chair, as was her custom, and stood talking to Ida, her partner.

  I glanced at my watch; the time was three minutes past one. I got more nervous with each second. Maybe Tess couldn't be able to do her part. Wesley liked promptness, but he had said he would give me until five after one before he kicked off the activities.

  It was important that we do this today because the bridge club had been cancelled for next week. The residents had received a notice that some renovation was going to take place in the room—something about the heating system. Joe must have been taking measurements for that last week.

  I watched the minute hand creep around my watch dial. Four minutes past one. We would have to cancel the show for today. Like the king who wanted to control the tides, I wanted to control time. Then, just as the minute hand passed the six and started its inexorable climb toward the twelve my cell phone rang. Adrenaline surged through my body.