Authors: Victoria Howard
‘
What
’d I do
?
’
he whispered.
Her only response wa
s to thump him hard on the arm.
Grace swallowed the despair in her throat.
‘
Jack and I have been so busy trying to straighten out my late husband’s affairs that we haven’t
had chance to
catch up
.
’
She turned to Maisie.
‘
Thank you for a delicious dinner.
If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to my room.
I…
I didn’t get much sleep last night.
’
She all but ran up the stairs.
Once inside
her room
, she flung
herself on the bed and sobbed.
If Frank and Maisie noticed
the dark rings under Grace’s eyes
when she came down to breakfast
the following morning,
they said nothing.
While
Maisie flip
ped
pancakes with ease that
came
from years of practi
s
e
,
Grace sat down at the table.
She
helped
herself
to
a cup of coffee, added a
spl
ash of cream and
stirred the cup.
After a night spent tossing and turning she
felt drained, hollow, lifeless.
‘
If you stir that
cup
any longer
you
’ll
take
the pattern right of
f
the
china
.
’
Grace jumped at the sound of Jack’s voice.
‘
What?
’
‘
You were someplace else.
Maisie asked
you
three
times if you want
syrup
or fruit
with your
pancakes
.
’
Grace pushed the
cup
away.
‘
I’m sorry, Maisie, I seem to have lost my appetite this morning.
’
She swivelled in her chair to look at Jack who
leaned
against the
doorframe
.
‘
I didn’t hear you come in.
’
‘
I’m not surprised.
That
was
some day-dream
you were having
.
’
His smile was as intimate
as a kiss.
Grace
rose from the table
.
Anger replaced pain, slicing through to her soul.
‘
I’ll go fetch the bank
state
ments,
’
she said tersely.
Jack caught her hand.
‘
Hey, what’s up?
’
Grace frowned.
‘
I didn’t sleep well.
’
‘
That’s as maybe.
But s
omething else is bugging you.
I can see it in your eyes.
’
The screen door creaked
. F
rank
came in from the garden.
He took one look at Grace and Jack squaring off and tactfully withdrew.
‘
There’s fresh coffee in the pot, help yourselves
,
’
Maisie announced
.
‘
I’m going to
help Frank in the garden
.
’
Jack didn’t move.
He just waited for Grace to
answer
,
h
is expression one of
barely suppressed
tolerance.
‘
Are you hell bent on making my headache worse
,
or just being obtuse?
’
‘
Neither
one
, but I’d sure like to know who
, or what,
made you so cranky this morning.
’
Grace regarded him
impassively
then
strode out of the room.
Jack watched
her
walk away.
The pale
peach
linen dress she wore couldn’
t conceal her curves.
She’d left her hair loose.
I
t glistened
against her creamy skin
like polished
amber
.
H
e caught the citrus and jasmine
notes of
her perfume
, swallowed
hard
, and
tried
to forget
how good
she
felt in his arms.
He had no business thinking about her in anything other than a platonic way, but she was like a drug, and right now he
couldn’t get enough of her.
While he waited for Grace to
return with
the bank statements
,
he
poured a cup of
coffee
.
Maybe
a shot of caffeine would
stop him
thinking about
what might have been, and concentrate his mind on more important matters,
like
finding out what
her husband
had been involved in
.
When
Grace
re-entered the kitchen a few moments later,
he
was sat at the table reading the newspaper.
She
pulled out a chair
,
sat down next to him
and
opened the envelope from the bank.
‘
D
id you look at these last night?
’
Jack asked
,
putting down the paper and
taking the sheaf of papers from her hand
.
‘
Only briefly.
The first statement
is
for March
—
four months before the date of the first entry in the passport.
T
hat suggests
someone other than Daniel opened the account.
’
‘
I’m guessing Parous.
It
’d
be easy enough for him to
do that
on behalf of a client.
’
He
examined the
first statement
and then compared it to
the
next
three
in the pile.
‘
There’s a pattern here.
Each weekly
deposit
is
small enough not to attract
the
attention of the banking authorities
who track transfers of more than ten thousand dollars.
’
‘
The same amount is
transferred
out of the account exactly one
week later. Where does it go
,
back to the client?
’
‘
P
robably into an offshore account
or a limited liability company
that
no one
individual
technically owns.
That way the authorities, such as the
Inland Revenue Service
have hard time unravelling the paper tr
ai
l
.
’
‘
How do you know that?
’
His eyes narrowed.
‘
Years of experience.
When did
Daniel buy
the beach house?
’
‘
June.
’
Jack flipped through the statements until he found the
appropriate one
.
‘
Look,
’
he slid the sheet of paper to
ward her.
‘
Five
withdrawals
.
I’ll bet a year’s salary that
they are equivalent to the
down payment
on Sand Dollars
.
’