Come Morning (24 page)

Unbuttoning her blouse, she stifled a yawn. Maybe tonight she’d be able to sleep.

Charles Brewster bustled into the conference room of Fidelity Mutual Savings and offered his hand to Briana. “Good to meet you, Mrs. Morgan. Thank you for taking the time to come see me.”

Had she had a choice? Brie wondered, studying the tall, sandy-haired man with a full mustache and rimless glasses. When she’d returned the attorney’s call this morning, his secretary, in the condescending, cool voice that so many executive secretaries used, had told her that Mr. Brewster would see her at ten. “No problem. I am curious about why you wanted to see me.”

Placing his thin leather briefcase onto the table, he gave her a quick smile, then seated himself. “It’s about your husband, Robert. About some of the investment accounts he was handling.”

She raised a brow. “Robert and I were divorced over three years ago. Even during the time we were married, we rarely, if ever, discussed his clients.”

“Mmm hmm.” Brewster unbuttoned his suit coat and leaned forward, folding his hands atop the polished mahogany. “There are some suspicious transactions that have recently come to light regarding Robert Morgan’s clients. One in particular, a man named Glenn Halstead. Is that name familiar to you?”

“Not that I recall. What kind of suspicious transactions?”

“Let me lay a little background. Mr. Halstead is a powerful, influential businessman, well known up and down the East Coast It’s been rumored for years that he operates on the fringes of the law, although no one’s ever been able to prove it. There’ve been hints of mob connections.” He paused for her reaction.

Briana was growing impatient with his cloak-and-dagger routine. “What does this man have to do with Robert? He’s been dead for five months. Or with me, for that matter?”

“There’s no easy way to put this. We’ve found clear-cut evidence that Robert Morgan was involved in a rather complicated money laundering scheme, creating false accounts under dummy names, depositing monies in them, then transferring funds elsewhere electronically. To be specific, to a bank in the Cayman Islands where Mr. Halstead has several accounts.”

Stunned, Briana could only stare in disbelief for a moment. “That’s impossible. Robert was scrupulously honest. Integrity had been drilled into him by his father, who was a state senator. He would never,
ever
get involved in something dishonest or illegal. His career, his reputation, his father’s opinion of him meant far too much to him.”

Unsnapping his briefcase, Brewster removed a packet of papers and slid them over to her. “I can understand how you feel. But we have proof of the transfers, made over a period of two years, all with your husband’s coded number on them.”

Her eyes on the top page, Briana frowned. “Coded number?”

“Yes. Each of the account executives puts not only his name on each transaction or transfer of funds, but also a coded number.” He pointed to the number in a box on the left side. “That’s Robert’s code.”

The numbers and codes defined on the pages meant nothing to Briana. She looked across the table at the attorney. “I can only imagine someone else typed in Robert’s name and code, then. I repeat, he wouldn’t have done something illegal.”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong. We have other proof as well.” Again, Brewster sat calmly waiting for her reaction.

Sliding the pages back to him, Briana sat back and crossed her legs. “I don’t know what you’re expecting of me, Mr. Brewster. I can’t, I
won’t
believe that Robert was involved in this. But even if he were, what do you want from me?”

The attorney cleared his throat. “It isn’t just you we’re questioning. The FBI is investigating everyone in Robert’s recent past—his family members, his friends, women he’s dated since the divorce. There’s a great deal of money involved here, Mrs. Morgan. Millions. Not only monies funneled to Glenn Halstead illegally, but large payoffs to Robert.”

Skepticism changed to indignation. “Let me get this straight. Are you saying this Halstead paid Robert to do these illegal transactions?”

“Yes, ma’am. His share could be as high as two million. Money laundering is a federal crime. The FBI is working with us on this. Halstead’s finances are being thoroughly investigated, but he’s a slippery one. I called you in today to tell you that we’re freezing Robert Morgan’s assets until we can go over everything.”

“Two million?” For the first time, Briana felt uneasy. Surely Robert’s burning ambition hadn’t overridden his good sense, had it? No, she wouldn’t believe it. “What assets?”

“Say, for instance, insurance policies, especially taken out recently?”

“The only one I’m familiar with is the insurance company that paid me his death benefit as his beneficiary. Then there’s the policy that Robert set up as an educational fund for our son, but he’d only paid several thousand into it at the time of his death because Bobby was only seven.” She shook her head, puzzled. “I don’t understand. Robert lived in an apartment, owned a nice car, dressed well, but certainly didn’t live lavishly. Other than what I’ve mentioned, I have no idea what assets you’re referring to.”

Undaunted, he went on. “His bank accounts, his stocks, any bonds, his safe-deposit box. Did you have anything to do with those?”

“No. Only the insurance settlement I mentioned. He had an attorney. I imagine he might know about those other accounts.”

“Yes, a David Rimmer. We’ve contacted him, as well.” Brewster adjusted his tie, looking a shade uncomfortable for the first time as he removed a typed sheet of paper from his briefcase and passed it to her. “We need to check your finances as well, to make certain Robert didn’t pass money he obtained illegally to your accounts, perhaps even without your knowledge. If you’d be so good as to sign this authorization letter, we can get this little matter cleared up quickly and painlessly, I trust.”

At that moment, the door opened and a man with thick white hair wearing a pinstripe gray suit walked in, a gentle smile on his face. Emmett Brighton, the president of Fidelity Mutual and son of the founder of the bank, walked over and offered his hand. “Briana, my dear. It’s good to see you.”

Briana tamped down her anger and greeted him. “Mr. Brighton, perhaps you can help clear this up. This gentleman seems to think that Robert was involved in something illegal. He worked for you for ten years. Surely you don’t agree?”

Brighton took his time seating himself in a chair next to Briana, angling it so he could cross his long legs. “We hated to have to ask you to come in, Briana. And we hate to cast a cloud over a dead man’s reputation, but the facts all point in that direction, my dear.”

“I can’t, I
won’t
believe that” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In her wildest dreams, she wouldn’t have imagined taking part in this conversation.

“There’s a slim chance we’re wrong; of course.” Brighton’s tone was gentle, fatherly, meant to convey trust. “That’s why we need to check your assets as well, to see if by chance, unknown to you, of course, Robert was hiding some of his assets by commingling them with your money.”

“I’m not certain I want to allow that, Mr. Brighton. I’d like to discuss this situation with my attorney before granting you access.” She had nothing to hide, yet to allow them to delve into her finances without checking how this might affect her was something she was unwilling to do. After all, they were talking possible criminal charges here, and the main suspect was her ex-husband. Though she and Robert had been divorced a long time, perhaps they’d try to prove collusion. Even with her limited knowledge, Briana knew the FBI was a formidable opponent.

“Of course, my dear.” He rose, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Please do that. Take along a copy of the papers Mr. Brewster’s shown you and then get back to us as soon as possible. Good seeing you.” With a nod to Brewster, he left.

Annoyed with both of them, Briana accepted the papers from the attorney, slipped them into her purse, and walked out. She was waiting impatiently for the elevator, wondering if Brad Donovan, the attorney she’d used for years, would be able to see her on short notice, when she heard her name spoken. Turning, she saw Craig Walker heading her way. Cursing the timing of the elevator, she put on a smile of sorts.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were back.” Craig stepped close, his arm sliding round her waist. “But I’m glad you are.”

“Just a brief visit, actually, for my grandfather’s funeral,” she explained as she stepped away from his touch.

Craig’s handsome face turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Brie. I know he meant a lot to you.”

“Yes, he did.”

“So, how come you’re here at Fidelity? I mean, if you came for a funeral…”

She could see the curiosity in his face and wondered why her schedule interested him so much. “Just a little snafu over some of Robert’s clients.” At least, she hoped that was all it was.

“Why would you be involved with Robert’s clients?” he asked, his interest evident.

Briana noticed that the receptionist was pretending not to listen and two young men she didn’t recognize walked by, deep in conversation, yet pausing to look her up and down. “Look, Craig, I don’t want to go into this here and now.”

He glanced at his watch. “Have you got time for lunch? I can clear my schedule. We could catch a cab to the Salty Dog at Quincy. I know you love their oyster bar.” He sensed her hesitancy and hurried on. “Come on, Brie. You have to eat”

Maybe she should go and find out if Craig knew anything about this mess. She could call her attorney from the restaurant. “All right”

It was a breezy day but they chose to sit outside on the sidewalk cafe anyway. Brie decided to skip the oyster bar and opted for a shrimp salad, which was huge. She picked at it disinterestedly as Craig cut into his steak.

“Believe it or not in this city, I get tired of seafood since it’s so plentiful on every menu.” He offered her a warm roll. “Tell me, are you home for good now?”

“No, I hope to go back tomorrow.”

Craig frowned. “So soon? I don’t get it, Brie. What’s the appeal? I mean, the weather’s about the same and you’ve got the sea here, too. Along with your folks and hordes of friends, to say nothing of your work. Why go back at all?”

She felt her temper climb and wondered why she was so quick to anger lately. “Because I want to.” She said it in a way that she hoped he wouldn’t challenge, then hurried to change the subject. “Tell me, do you know a man named Glenn Halstead?”

Craig continued buttering his roll. “Nearly everyone’s heard of Halstead. He’s a mover and a shaker, has his fingers in a lot of pies up and down the coast, mostly investments. Why?”

She gave him an abbreviated version of her disturbing conversation with the attorney and Mr. Brighton. “Can you believe that they honestly think Robert was involved in something crooked?”

“Do they have any proof?”

“They showed me some printouts that supposedly prove that Robert had made some illegal transactions that profited Halstead greatly. They also said that Robert’s share was around two million. Isn’t that crazy?”

“And they called you in to see if you knew anything about it?”

“More or less, but they also want to examine all my finances to see if Robert was using my accounts to hide money. I’m not the most conscientious bookkeeper, but I’d surely have known if there’d been any large deposits made over a period of a couple of years. It’s just not possible.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to run all this by my attorney. But first, I wanted to know what you thought. I feel disloyal even asking, but did you ever hear Robert mention this Halstead, or did you suspect in any way that he might be skirting the law regarding transfers or dummy accounts set up at some bank in the Caymans?” She took a sip of her coffee, watching him carefully.

Slowly, Craig set down his fork. “It’s possible, Brie.”

Briana felt the color drain from her face. “What do you mean?”

Trying for casual, Craig shrugged. “You know as well as I how ambitious Robert was. He wanted to be vice president by thirty-five, a millionaire by forty. I’m not altogether certain he couldn’t have been tempted. And I hear Halstead’s very persuasive.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Tempted enough to do something illegal, knowing that if he were caught, he could go to prison? No, Craig, you’re wrong. Not Robert. He’d never disgrace himself or bring shame on his father. Or his son.”

“You weren’t with him much over the last three-plus years, Brie. His ambition could have gotten in the way of his conscience. And remember, no one who does something like this believes he’s going to get caught”

Having lost her appetite, she shoved her plate aside, her mind racing. But the more she thought, the more convinced she was that she was right and Craig was wrong. “I’m a little surprised at you. I thought Robert was your best friend.”

“He was.” Looking earnest, Craig leaned forward. “I knew him better than anyone, Brie. Even you, after the divorce. He wanted to prove to you that you made a mistake in leaving him.”

Frowning, she shook her head. “That’s not the impression I had, and I saw him every other week.”

“For how long? Long enough to hand Bobby over to him?” He also shook his head. “No, you didn’t know him.”

Upset and confused, Briana glanced at her watch. “Listen, excuse me a minute. I have to make a call.”

The phone bank was inside and around the corner from their table. She dialed the number and waited, still mulling over Craig’s defection in her mind. Some friend he’d turned out to be.

Brad’s secretary came on the line and Briana gave the woman her full attention.

Craig stood, ever the polite gentleman, as Briana returned to the table. He noticed that she wasn’t smiling. “Anything wrong?”

“I thought I could turn this matter over to Brad Donovan, but his secretary says he’s tied up in court the rest of the week.”

Craig wiped his mouth and set down his napkin. “Have you got the papers from Brighton? I could look into it for you and let you know. That way you could get back to your island paradise.”

Briana didn’t know if it was his sarcasm, his disloyalty to Robert, or his annoying smile that did it, but suddenly she wanted very much to get away from Craig Walker. “Thanks, but I’ll handle this myself.” Reaching into her purse, she took out a folded bill and placed it on the table as her share of the check, over his protests. She didn’t want to be beholden to him for anything, not even a lunch.