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Glen Pearson.
I backtracked through the emails until I found what I was looking for – Glen Pearson, owner and CEO ofCanvas Cosmetics.
Why would Kim be talking tohim?
Using his name as a keyword, I searched through the emails again. A quick perusal showed that Kim hadn’t actually been communicating with him, she’d been going back and forth with his executive assistant. Both assistants had been intermediaries in a surprisingly informal offer forCanvasto purchaseVivid Vixen, and take over the business operations. As far as I could tell, there wasn’t a number on the table – the conversation was more about establishing the interest of both sides.
It was, however, one-sided. Monica wasn’t remotely interested, and she made that clear.
About a week later, shit started going wrong – yet another thing I wasn’t willing to accept as pure coincidence. I made another mental note – look further into Glen Pearson.
For now though, I was still on Kim.
After finding out that another of those cryptic nail polish messages had been left at the scene, Monica had sat at Kim’s bedside and cried guilty tears, feeling like the attack was her fault. Personally, I wasn’t moved. Sure, it was messed up that someone had kicked her ass, but I wasn’t prepared yet to say, “she didn’t deserve it”.
And once I pulled up her financials – not to see if they’d been used, which had been the focus when we couldn’t locate her at first – to look for any suspicious patterns, I was evenlessconvinced. Ten different ten-thousand-dollar payments, over the course of six months, made her look alotless than innocent.
What the hell is your sneaky ass doing, Kim?
I played that question in my head as I followed the thread of those payments, trying to figure out who they were from. It wasn’t very smart to accept bribes or whatever it was in her main bank account like this – it was sloppy. But whoever was on the other end of those payments had covered their tracks well, sending me digging for even the flimsiest thread that I might be able to tug, to lead me in the right direction.
When I found that thread, it simply confirmed what I already thought.
Therewasa connection here toCanvas Cosmetics.
Those payments were from the well-hidden account of a companyCanvashad purchased more than thirty years ago –Blissful Beauty.When they made the purchase, they’d immediately shut downBlissful’soperations. It was clear that they just wanted them out of business, eliminated as competition.
So… why wasBlissfulpaying Kim, who worked forVivid Vixen?There were no products being made, nothing. But as I dug further, I found thatBlissful’sformer owner, Miranda Cline, now sat on theCanvas Cosmeticsboard of directors.
Those motherfuckers were up to something – the question waswhat.
Was the goal to scare Monica into selling her company? And if so, why did they want it so bad? And why do things that could ruin the company’s reputation, if that was the case?
Once again, I was working with more questions than answers. And, even if I could tie the sabotage and hacking toCanvas Cosmetics, there were things that still didn’t make sense. Like Kellen. Corporate sabotage was one thing – murder was a whole different ballgame.
Murder was…personal.
That was what felt off about all of this, at least from where I sat. If Monica had enemies on a personal level – the kind who would kill, steal, and maim – wouldn’t sheknow?
Actually, hell… maybe she did, and just didn’t realize it.
I pulled myself up from my chair just as the doorbell rang, interrupting my intention to talk to Monica. I picked up my tablet, tapping the screen a few times to get to my cameras, frowning when I saw some buff motherfucker on my doorstep, holding a massage table.
Ignoring the doorbell, I went back to the email from Chloe, which had included the details for the massage she’d booked for Monica. Sure enough, homeboy at the door was the one whose picture and other identifying information was there in the email – the guy thatFive Star Securityhad vetted and approved.
Did Ireallyfeel like opening the door and letting this dude touch Monica?
Hell no.
Did I want to have to answer for it to Chloe and Monica if I sent him away?
Hell no.
So… I went to open the door.
“You can waitrighthere,” I told him, after letting him into the foyer. There were cameras covering every room downstairs, so I wasn’t too worried about leaving him while I went to check on Monica, and make sure she was ready.
After I knocked, she came to the door in a silky robe that I hoped she wasn’t naked underneath. I knew that was standard protocol for a massage, but it didn’t mean I wanted to know that motherfucker downstairs was going to get a front-row view of this particular glory.
