trustees ordered it. Marta was just doing her job, but Ms. Mobsley was really upset, really mad about it. How it’s her money, and she wasn’t having any dried-up numbers cruncher giving the assholes—that’s her word, okay—any lever to cut her off. She said Marta was going to be sorry if she didn’t do what she wanted.”
“What did she want?”
“I think, I guess, she wanted Marta to, you know, tweak some numbers so everything looked fine. But the thing is, I’m not supposed to talk about accounts and people.”
“You’re relaying information to the police about a possible threat,” Eve reminded her.
“It’s just I helped run some of the numbers, research some of the data, and well, Ms. Mobsley was sort of cheating. She was taking funds she wasn’t supposed to, and covering it, sort of, so it looked like approved expenses. And the trustees are the client, so Marta had to give them a clean report. Marta told her if she kept harassing her she’d have to report the communications to the trustees, and the court. And Ms. Mobsley got mega-steamed. Marta had me come in and close the door, and she told me—I heard some of it anyway—but she said since I was assisting on the audit, I needed to know. And I needed to tell her asap if Ms. Mobsley or anyone else contacted me about the audit, or tried to pressure me about it.”
“Has anyone?”
“No. People like Ms. Mobsley don’t notice assistants, I don’t think. I was supposed to tell her—Ms. Mobsley—if she contacted the office again that Marta was unavailable. But to log the call and everything she said. If it didn’t stop, she was going to tell Sly, and they were going to inform the trustees.”
“Do you have Mobsley’s full name and contact information?”
“Yes, sure. Candida Mobsley. I can get you her address—addresses,” Josie corrected. “And the trustees. Should I tell Sly? Do you think I should tell him?”
“I do, but for now, tell me about yesterday. Did Mobsley try to contact Marta?”
“Not yesterday. We were so busy, and upset, too, because of the accident. Marta took on three audits, and two of them were barely started. I stayed late to help, but she told me to go home about eight, I think. I went home. I was really tired. My roommate just broke up with this guy, so we just hung for a couple hours.”
“Okay. Get Detective Peabody that information, and why don’t you ask Lorraine Wilkie to come in.”
“All right.” Josie rose. “She was a great boss, I just want to say. She was mag to work for, and taught me a lot.”
Peabody waited until Josie went out. “Candida Mobsley’s all over the media. She’s been in and out of rehab for illegals and/or alcohol abuse, which is the excuse used when she wrecks another car, smacks another rival, tears up another hotel suite or whatever. Travels a lot. Third- or fourth-generation money that she’s apparently pissing through as fast as she can.”
“And you know this because?”
“McNab and I like to watch the gossip and celeb channels sometimes. It’s fun. She’s been engaged I don’t know how many times, and was married for about five minutes after a mega-multi-million-dollar wedding on this private South Sea Island estate. They said her dress alone cost—”
“I don’t care.”
“Sorry, got caught up. What I’m saying is, she’s really rich, really spoiled, and has a history of violent behavior.”
“Someone who could afford to hire a somewhat sloppy hit on an accountant she was pissed at.”
“Yeah, she could. Plus she ran with some rough types a couple years ago. The type who’d know how to hire a somewhat sloppy hit.”
“Okay, get her info, and we’ll have a talk with her. And why don’t you go on down, see if the security guy’s got the copy of the logs for us. If not you could try a little pressure there.”
“I love this job.” Bouncing a little at the prospect of interviewing the rich and infamous, Peabody walked out just as another
“What did she want?”
“I think, I guess, she wanted Marta to, you know, tweak some numbers so everything looked fine. But the thing is, I’m not supposed to talk about accounts and people.”
“You’re relaying information to the police about a possible threat,” Eve reminded her.
“It’s just I helped run some of the numbers, research some of the data, and well, Ms. Mobsley was sort of cheating. She was taking funds she wasn’t supposed to, and covering it, sort of, so it looked like approved expenses. And the trustees are the client, so Marta had to give them a clean report. Marta told her if she kept harassing her she’d have to report the communications to the trustees, and the court. And Ms. Mobsley got mega-steamed. Marta had me come in and close the door, and she told me—I heard some of it anyway—but she said since I was assisting on the audit, I needed to know. And I needed to tell her asap if Ms. Mobsley or anyone else contacted me about the audit, or tried to pressure me about it.”
“Has anyone?”
“No. People like Ms. Mobsley don’t notice assistants, I don’t think. I was supposed to tell her—Ms. Mobsley—if she contacted the office again that Marta was unavailable. But to log the call and everything she said. If it didn’t stop, she was going to tell Sly, and they were going to inform the trustees.”
“Do you have Mobsley’s full name and contact information?”
“Yes, sure. Candida Mobsley. I can get you her address—addresses,” Josie corrected. “And the trustees. Should I tell Sly? Do you think I should tell him?”
“I do, but for now, tell me about yesterday. Did Mobsley try to contact Marta?”
“Not yesterday. We were so busy, and upset, too, because of the accident. Marta took on three audits, and two of them were barely started. I stayed late to help, but she told me to go home about eight, I think. I went home. I was really tired. My roommate just broke up with this guy, so we just hung for a couple hours.”
“Okay. Get Detective Peabody that information, and why don’t you ask Lorraine Wilkie to come in.”
“All right.” Josie rose. “She was a great boss, I just want to say. She was mag to work for, and taught me a lot.”
Peabody waited until Josie went out. “Candida Mobsley’s all over the media. She’s been in and out of rehab for illegals and/or alcohol abuse, which is the excuse used when she wrecks another car, smacks another rival, tears up another hotel suite or whatever. Travels a lot. Third- or fourth-generation money that she’s apparently pissing through as fast as she can.”
“And you know this because?”
“McNab and I like to watch the gossip and celeb channels sometimes. It’s fun. She’s been engaged I don’t know how many times, and was married for about five minutes after a mega-multi-million-dollar wedding on this private South Sea Island estate. They said her dress alone cost—”
“I don’t care.”
“Sorry, got caught up. What I’m saying is, she’s really rich, really spoiled, and has a history of violent behavior.”
“Someone who could afford to hire a somewhat sloppy hit on an accountant she was pissed at.”
“Yeah, she could. Plus she ran with some rough types a couple years ago. The type who’d know how to hire a somewhat sloppy hit.”
“Okay, get her info, and we’ll have a talk with her. And why don’t you go on down, see if the security guy’s got the copy of the logs for us. If not you could try a little pressure there.”
“I love this job.” Bouncing a little at the prospect of interviewing the rich and infamous, Peabody walked out just as another
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