Read Online Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies Series, Book 3) by Shirlee Busbee - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shirlee Busbee
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never be noticed... it had taken him several weeks of searching to discover the differences.
His discovery didn't prove anything, but it gave him food for thought. He picked up one of the suspect invoices and leafed through it. There were a lot of reasonable explanations for the differences in the quality of paper, including manufacturer defects, but he didn't think that was the answer. No. A pattern of outright thievery was revealing itself to him, and it was as simple as it was ingenious.
The possible scenario played itself in his brain. A shipment, he mused slowly, would arrive from Europe and follow the usual routine of unloading and storage in the warehouses... but at some point after that, the thief or thieves, would help themselves to what they wanted from the warehouse. The invoice which accompanied the shipment would be altered, not individual amounts, but an entire counterfeit page would be substituted for the original. Clever. And it smacked of the culprit or culprits being closely aligned with the company.
Galland, Lancaster and Dupree had been paying for goods which they had indeed received, but a portion of which simply disappeared and, with it, their profit. Hugh rubbed his chin. The only way he could prove it was either secretly to institute a system of double record keeping here in New Orleans and wait for the thief to strike, or write and privately request that an original copy of one of the suspicious invoices be sent directly to him. He grimaced. If he wrote that day and the letter sailed with the next ship, it would be three months or more before he received his requested copy from Europe. Three long months before he would be able to compare it with the one in the office. All of which, he admitted glumly, would only confirm the way the thievery was happening, not who.
He sighed. Well, he had plenty of time—he'd moved to New Orleans, hadn't he? And he couldn't say that he was displeased with what he had discovered. At least now, he had some idea how the profits were disappearing. All he had to do was to find the thief—or thieves.
A rude growl from his stomach reminded him that it was late afternoon and that he had not eaten since early morning. Gathering up the invoices which interested him, he locked them in the bottom drawer of his desk and, after shrugging into his dark blue coat and putting on his curly-brimmed beaver hat, left his office, locking it behind him.
Telling Brisson that he was leaving for the day, Hugh stepped out into the soft sunlight. Heading toward Jasper's house, he hoped that he would find his host at home; no doubt, he thought with a grin, resting between amusements.
Hugh had almost reached Dumaine Street when he spied a trim form that he recognized immediately. Micaela Dupree. But what, he wondered, was she doing in the city?
Deciding to find out, he stopped and waited for her to approach him. Micaela appeared to be alone, except for a young maid and a black male servant.
Micaela had spotted him coming toward her almost at the same instant, and if she hadn't been raised to be a proper young lady, she would have stamped her foot and spun around and walked in the opposite direction. But she had been raised to be gracious, even, she told herself fiercely, to Américain gentlemen with mocking eyes and arrogant smiles.
Forcing a polite, albeit cool, expression on her face, she acknowledged Hugh's broad presence on the wooden banquette in front of her. " Monsieur Lancaster. How... nice to see you. Are you enjoying this fine weather we have had the past few days?"
Sweeping aside his hat, he took her hand and dropped a kiss on the soft skin. "Indeed I am, mademoiselle. It gives one hope that the rainy season will truly end soon, does it not?"
To her annoyance, Micaela felt the touch of his warm lips on her hand all the way down to her toes. With more haste than grace, she jerked her hand from his light grasp. "Oui ," she said stiffly, wishing she had taken another
His discovery didn't prove anything, but it gave him food for thought. He picked up one of the suspect invoices and leafed through it. There were a lot of reasonable explanations for the differences in the quality of paper, including manufacturer defects, but he didn't think that was the answer. No. A pattern of outright thievery was revealing itself to him, and it was as simple as it was ingenious.
The possible scenario played itself in his brain. A shipment, he mused slowly, would arrive from Europe and follow the usual routine of unloading and storage in the warehouses... but at some point after that, the thief or thieves, would help themselves to what they wanted from the warehouse. The invoice which accompanied the shipment would be altered, not individual amounts, but an entire counterfeit page would be substituted for the original. Clever. And it smacked of the culprit or culprits being closely aligned with the company.
Galland, Lancaster and Dupree had been paying for goods which they had indeed received, but a portion of which simply disappeared and, with it, their profit. Hugh rubbed his chin. The only way he could prove it was either secretly to institute a system of double record keeping here in New Orleans and wait for the thief to strike, or write and privately request that an original copy of one of the suspicious invoices be sent directly to him. He grimaced. If he wrote that day and the letter sailed with the next ship, it would be three months or more before he received his requested copy from Europe. Three long months before he would be able to compare it with the one in the office. All of which, he admitted glumly, would only confirm the way the thievery was happening, not who.
He sighed. Well, he had plenty of time—he'd moved to New Orleans, hadn't he? And he couldn't say that he was displeased with what he had discovered. At least now, he had some idea how the profits were disappearing. All he had to do was to find the thief—or thieves.
A rude growl from his stomach reminded him that it was late afternoon and that he had not eaten since early morning. Gathering up the invoices which interested him, he locked them in the bottom drawer of his desk and, after shrugging into his dark blue coat and putting on his curly-brimmed beaver hat, left his office, locking it behind him.
Telling Brisson that he was leaving for the day, Hugh stepped out into the soft sunlight. Heading toward Jasper's house, he hoped that he would find his host at home; no doubt, he thought with a grin, resting between amusements.
Hugh had almost reached Dumaine Street when he spied a trim form that he recognized immediately. Micaela Dupree. But what, he wondered, was she doing in the city?
Deciding to find out, he stopped and waited for her to approach him. Micaela appeared to be alone, except for a young maid and a black male servant.
Micaela had spotted him coming toward her almost at the same instant, and if she hadn't been raised to be a proper young lady, she would have stamped her foot and spun around and walked in the opposite direction. But she had been raised to be gracious, even, she told herself fiercely, to Américain gentlemen with mocking eyes and arrogant smiles.
Forcing a polite, albeit cool, expression on her face, she acknowledged Hugh's broad presence on the wooden banquette in front of her. " Monsieur Lancaster. How... nice to see you. Are you enjoying this fine weather we have had the past few days?"
Sweeping aside his hat, he took her hand and dropped a kiss on the soft skin. "Indeed I am, mademoiselle. It gives one hope that the rainy season will truly end soon, does it not?"
To her annoyance, Micaela felt the touch of his warm lips on her hand all the way down to her toes. With more haste than grace, she jerked her hand from his light grasp. "Oui ," she said stiffly, wishing she had taken another
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