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“Is that common for people to go into each other’s offices?” Arnett asked.
“That depends what you mean. During the day, yes, all the time. We’re a small organization and the officers often have to go into one another’s files for one reason or another. But once people have left for the day, you need a key.”
“Who are the officers? Do they all have keys to everything?” Jo asked.
“Naomie, of course, and Rhea Blondell. And Julia Gagnon, although she isn’t technically an officer. Naomie and Rhea started the non-profit together, and Julia came on as an educator and medical professional. There’s a janitorial passkey kept in a safe, and they all have access to that. The rest of us, it depends. I have a key to Naomie’s office, and Janelle has one to Rhea’s. I think that’s it.”
Jo asked her about the fraudulent grant applications. “Do you know who Naomie suspected?” Jo asked.
Sandra shook her head. “She didn’t say.”
Jo nodded. “Who doyouthink is responsible?”
“I’ve been worrying myself sick about it,” she said, looking nauseated. “If I had to pick someone, and I don’t like doing that, I’d say Janelle, Rhea’s admin. Only because she’s relatively new. She’s only been here for three months, and she and I are the two who work closely with the financial records.”
“Does she have money problems, anything like that?”
“Not problems exactly. But she—just like me—lives the kind of life where a thousand dollars would make a difference.”
Jo could see the pain in Sandra’s face as she answered. “Most people do, I think. I know it’s hard to point the finger at a co-worker, but we appreciate your honesty. We’ll need to talk to everyone who works here in turn, and we’ll need to take everyone’s fingerprints. Can you help us arrange that?”
“Sure thing, I’ll set up appointments with everyone. The fingerprints should be easy. Everyone who works here has to get a background check done, including IdentoGo live scan fingerprinting. We require that they also submit fingerprint cards to us while they’re employed here.”
“That’ll save time, thank you. Is there a room where we can talk to people privately?” Jo asked.
“We have a conference room. Will that work?”
“That sounds perfect.” Jo glanced around. “I don’t suppose you have any coffee here?”
Sandra gave a watery smile. “This place runs on coffee. Let me show you where it is.”
They followed her into a small break room that looked more like a cozy kitchen. Sandra grabbed two paper cups from the top of an upside-down stack, and filled them with coffee from the large pot. “How do you take it?”
“Black, thank you,” Arnett said.
“Just cream for me, if you have it,” Jo said.
Sandra handed one of the cups to Arnett, then reached into a container by the side of the coffee pot but pulled her hand out empty. “Ugh. I hate it when people take the last of something and don’t refill. Hang on.” She pulled open the cabinet above the coffee maker, and grabbed an industrial-sized box of the creamers.
Jo gasped.
Behind the creamer box was a large bag of king-cake baby figurines.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN
Sandra jerked back at the sound of Jo’s gasp. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you know how those got there?” Jo pointed toward the bag.
Sandra followed the gesture, and her face relaxed. “Oh, those. Kinda creepy when you see them like that, aren’t they? But they’re just party favors we use for decorations when we have showers for the clients.”
“How long have they been there?” Jo asked.
“Oh, over a year, at least. We try to save money where we can, so I picked up a gross of them. Why? Do you want to see them?” She reached for the bag.
Jo’s hand shot out. “Please don’t touch them. We’ll need to take them into evidence.”
Sandra’s arm and face dropped abruptly. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
