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Connor sighed. “Sorry. You’re right.”
Goddard shrugged. “He didn’t need to say a word, Doc. It’s clear to anyone who bothers to look.”
Joel looked delighted. The bastard. “What’s this?”
“Nothing,” Sam said, shutting down the conversation. “Where is Detective McKittrick?”
Connor sighed again. “Skipping lunch to do a background on JoAnne Tremblay. She wanted to find out how well the woman is living. Tremblay hasn’t answered our calls.”
Sam made a face. “Hell, maybe Crawford and Evans were doing the horizontal tango and I just missed it. I missed Tremblay being an embezzler.” The older woman had been stealing from Shady Oaks long before Crawford had been hired.
“I’m sure if you’d known to look, you would have seen it,” Joel said loyally. “Ah, here she is. Hey, Kit.”
Kit came into the room, her tablet and a thick folder in one hand, a plastic sack in the other, and a triumphant gleam in her blue eyes. “Got it.” She put everything she held onto a chair, then showed them her tablet, on which was a photo of a very nice house on a beach. “JoAnne Tremblay lives in a one-point-four-million-dollar house on Anna Maria Island in Florida. It was bought by an LLC—whose ownership isn’t exactly clear yet—two years ago. Cash.”
Connor perked up. “Is Chadwick Redford involved?”
“Nope. But that’s not to say that Adler didn’t get tips from Mrs. Tremblay.”
Sam shook his head, stunned. “She was such a sweet lady.”
“I don’t know, Doc,” Goddard said. “Being a Pat Boone fan should have been your first clue. That’s so wrong.”
Sam chuckled. “Maybe. Wow. I wonder how long she was skimming.”
“We’ll find out,” Kit vowed. “I’m going to come at Evans with the murder of both Crawford and Frankie Flynn. We’ve assumed that one person was involved and Adler was fairly convincing in his denial, but Adler has no verifiable alibi and the two of them could have done it together. Sounds like no one liked Crawford. If they got rid of him, they could have both kept more of the money. Navarro started search warrants for Evans’s home and bank accounts last night. Hopefully, we’ll be able to dig into her life today.” She glanced at the glass. “She still doesn’t know she’s here as a suspect?”
“Not unless she’s figured it out while she sits here and stews,” Connor said cheerfully. “So ask me what I found during lunch.”
Kit frowned. “You ate lunch during lunch.”
“I can eat and work at the same time. I don’t skip meals,” Connor said loftily, then grinned when her frown became a scowl. “I contacted the chairman of the board of directors for Shady Oaks. He was very interested to hear that money was being stolen. He’d been suspicious for some time, but he’d been assured by Miss Evans that she was having an audit done. He’s been waiting for the results.”
“So this might have come to light without Frankie’s murder,” Sam murmured.
Connor shot him a look of sympathy. “Probably not. I don’t think Evans would have allowed a legit audit. But that’s not all. I asked the chairman who recommended Miss Evans after the death of Selma Waite and he said her name was suggested by…” He drummed his fingers on his knee. “Kent Crawford. Crawford had met Evans while she worked for the doctor who’d been treating his wife’s lupus.”
“Sonofabitch,” Kit muttered. “He couldn’t even go to his wife’s appointments and support her without running his own angle.”
“Looks like,” Connor said.
The door opened and Navarro entered the observation room. “Sorry I was delayed. We just got the warrants for Evans’s home and bank accounts. I sent Detective Marshall and his partner to oversee the search of Evans’s house. We’ll get the bank information sometime this afternoon.” He nodded at the glass. “Let’s get moving on this, Detectives.”
Connor stood up and smoothed his tie. “We ready, Kit?”
“Oh yeah,” Kit said menacingly. “I want her begging for mercy.”
Sam wasn’t ashamed to admit that he found that totally hot.
San Diego PD, San Diego, California
Wednesday, November 9, 12:45 p.m.
Connor sat next to Evans while Kit took the same chair she’d used when questioning Adler, the smile on her face belying any ill intent. Kit McKittrick was fresh-faced and cute, her blond ponytail adding to the girl-next-door persona that Sam thought she cultivated on purpose. It often disarmed her opponents until it was too late and she had them in her clutches.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Evans,” Kit began sincerely. “We’ve been running like chickens all morning. Please accept our apology.”
Evans glared. “It is not okay, Detective. I have a job, too, and you’re keeping me from doing it. Plus, I’m starving.”
