No Fault of Mine

Chapter Twenty-Three

"You thought the initials were mine?"

"Yeah," she said. "Well, I didn't know for sure, but who else would've done it?"

"Do you remember when you first noticed the bogus statements?" I asked.

"Maybe six months...around Christmas, I think," she said. "I remember I gave you fifteen statements to review. The next morning, they were all initialed, plus two more."

"Did that happen frequently?" I asked.

"Yes," Ann said. "I'm sure you wonder why I didn't say anything?"

"It crossed my mind," I said.

"Do you know how hard it is to talk with anyone about this? I was so confused and scared. It took me several months before I decided something was terribly wrong. But I didn't know how or why it was happening."

"You didn't inform Thad or Betty about your discovery?" I asked.

"No, I was afraid," she said and hung her head down. "I didn't know what would happen. I even wondered if it was organized crime. You know what happens if the crime boss thinks someone knows too much? I have children to raise."

I took her hand. "I'm so sorry. This must have been a nightmare for you."

"Well, it seems silly now that I've said it out loud, but it kept me awake at night," she said. I could see fear in her eyes and feel the weight she must have had on her shoulders. "I kept trying to find a way out, but I just knew there wouldn't be any way to escape."

"Let me assure you, Ann, you're in no danger. Something is going on, and I will find out what it is."

"Thank you," she said. "I always thought you had a kind heart, but when it looked like you were breaking the law, my fear got the best of hand."

"Did the bogus statements stop with Martin's death," I asked.

"Yes," she said, "but I'd never suggest that he was the one doing it."

I wasn't prepared to say that Martin was the culprit, but my confidence in him was slipping. Before we were finished, I thanked Ann for her long work history and loyalty. As I watched her walk out the door, I could've slapped myself for using the mob-associated loyalty jargon. What did Corleone say in The Godfather? "The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, lies in its loyalty to each other."

After talking with Ann, I reviewed the statements for the month and initialed them. To my relief, there were no bogus statements.

I called Betty and said I'd bring her the statements for the month after lunch.

"Sure, I was expecting them today or tomorrow," she said. "I could drop by if you're busy today."

"I think I'd rather bring them over. I understand that Thad reported the embezzlement. I don't question your thorough work, Betty, but I'd like to review the statements in question. Can you get them together for me?"

"I made copies of the originals, and they're in a separate folder," she said.

"Always thorough, Betty, thank you. I may have questions after I get there."

I had been in Martin's office a number of times since he died for some immediate need in our daily operations. As I entered his office this time, I had a new agenda: I wanted to find anything that would explain the embezzlement and the cryptic "failsafe" document.

Of the three of us, Martin's office was immaculate. Nothing was out of place, and nothing was stacked on his desk or small conference table. I closed the door, opened a filing cabinet, and began going through his files.

Martin was responsible for sales, estimates, and contracts. His file system was simple. The top drawer contained active contracts, and the bottom three drawers contained inactive contracts. The business, job name, and date were on the tabs in Martin's neat script.

I found nothing unusual among the files in the four drawers, but something caught my attention behind the movable plate at the back of the drawer that keeps the files vertical. I saw it when I pulled the drawer out to get to the last few files. I reached past the backplate and pulled out a palm-sized black plastic box. It felt light in my hand, and something solid hit the sides of the box as I turned it over. I took the box to the desk, sat, and examined it. It was a nondescript container with a pull-off lid.

I was surprised when I found the Failsafe file this morning. I had no idea it existed. Now, however, my expectations were in overdrive. What other surprises had Martin left?

I grasped the base of the box and, with the other hand, the lid. I was just about to pull the lid off when my phone rang.

"Melanie?" I asked, seeing her name on my display. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm sick with worry, Mia," she said in a high, sad voice. "I haven't heard from Liam since Saturday." She sobbed haltingly.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I asked after giving her time to collect herself.

"His phone rang after we watched the soccer game. I was making supper in the kitchen, but I still heard some of his side of the conversation. It sounded friendly at first—you know, like two friends casually talking about the game. Then Liam got angry, not shouting angry, but bold angry like a dog growling just before it attacks. After the call, he left in his pickup without saying a word to me. That bothers me the most; we always tell each other where we're going and when we expect to be back."

"Have you tried calling him?" I asked.

"Calling, texting, yelling, screaming. Nothing." She blew her nose and sniffed.

"Has anything out of the ordinary been happening recently?" I asked.

"Nothing that I know of," she said and sniffed. "Except for someone's been texting him at odd times."

"Odd?" I prompted.

"Yes, like late at night. There might be two or three, but honestly, I don't remember how many times his phone has pinged. He seems private about it, and the phone goes with him everywhere."

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked. The offer was genuine, but given my current situation, it'd be difficult to do anything.

"He's done this before," she volunteered.

"You mean he's left before? Like he did when I was visiting?"

"I never wanted to tell anyone," she said. "He's a very private, but I think you know that. Sometimes, he just needs to get away. He may go to County Line Park and sit for the day watching river traffic on the Columbia or drive to the beach and walk the shoreline."

"Without telling you?" I asked.

"No, he always tells me. That's what makes this so strange. He just left...he just left." I could hear Melanie sniffing. "There's one more thing. He has a partial disability from the Navy for trauma. He's never told me about it—like I said, he's a very private man."