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Chapter Ten
As the limo pulled in front of the warehouse, Jay saw several cars parked in the lot, two delivery vans, a semi-truck, and several men operating forklifts. The place was buzzing, not chained up and empty like Janice had seen it a few days ago. “I guess I won’t be needing the bolt cutters.”
“This doesn’t make any sense.” Clay looked dumbfounded.
“I agree.” He wished their uncle hadn’t revealed their probe to the staff. If they had been able to keep it secret, they might have gotten the jump on whoever was behind the discrepancy. “The only thing I can come up with is that someone in the London office has to be the embezzler.”
“Even if that’s true, there must be a paper trail,” Izzy said. “And Janice has admitted she was unaware of this place’s existence. Let’s go inside and find the proof we need to bring down the culprit or figure out if this is like your uncle said—something that has fallen through the cracks at GWI.”
“It would have to be a pretty big crack, Izzy.” He stepped out of the limo.
She and Clay joined him on the sidewalk that led up to the front door of the warehouse. The sign above the door read “Gibbs Worldwide Investments –Bodega Numero 11.
“I wonder why that is in Spanish,” Clay stated.
He wondered, too.
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” Izzy marched to the entrance like a warrior taking the battlefield.
He loved her fire and determination. If anyone was going to figure out what was really going on it was Izzy. Clay held the door for her and the three of them walked inside.
A guy at the desk looked at them in the warehouse’s front office. The nametag pinned to his shirt read Carlos Morales. “Welcome to GWI. How may I help you?” His accent was just as Spanish as his name.
“We would like to speak with the person in charge,” Izzy said.
“Certainly. May I tell him who wishes to see him?”
“My name is Isabella Clemens, and this is Clay and Jay.” She was being vague about who they were, likely trying to keep intact any advantage they still might have, no matter how little.
“Uno momento, Miss Clemens.” Carlos picked up the phone. “Señor, hay una mujer muy hermosa aquí con dos caballeros. Isabella Clemens. Ellos quieren hablar con usted.”
Jay’s Spanish was just as good as Clay’s. The man had called Izzy very beautiful, which was absolutely true. He resisted the urge to put his arm around her even though he really wanted to make sure Carlos realized she wasn’t available. But that wouldn’t be smart. The less the people here knew about them, the better the chances of success with their investigation.
After several minutes, a middle-aged man entered the front office from a side door. “Hello, I am Alberto Gonzales, the warehouse manager.” Same Spanish accent.
The name didn’t mean anything to him, and by the look on Clay’s face, he could tell the same was true with him.
Izzy’s face darkened for a split-second before returning to normal when she held out her hand to the man. “Isabella Clemens.”
Had she see Gonzales’s name on one of the reports she’d been checking today?
“These are my associates, Clay and Jay.”
“I understand you wish to speak with me, Ms. Clemens. How may I be of assistance to you today?”
“We need to discuss something very urgent with you in private, sir.”
“What is this regarding, Ms. Clemens? And who are you and these two gentlemen representing?”
“Like I said, Mr. Gonzales, we must speak with you privately. The matter is very confidential.”
“Of course. My office is this way.” Gonzales led them into the warehouse, which was surprisingly full of inventory.
They walked the entire building, arriving at the very back next to a loading dock, which was filled with employees, all speaking Spanish. So strange. This is London.
Gonzales led them into a very no-frills office. There were only two chairs for guests.
Izzy sat down. Jay motioned for Clay to take the other seat, preferring to remain standing.
