“La Bella Gente pays their most pressing debts from an Italian bank account that isn’t on the corporate books,” Roark explained. “Our resident bank hacker here has been tracing the money trail.”
“Lucia’s siphoning the farm funds?” Evie studied the page she’d been given but she was lousy at homework.
“Not the farm. The account owner is an Italian shell company with officers listed from a British shell company. As far as we can determine, the physical address is a plot of dirt in some obscure Umbrian village. We’d need someone to verify that better than Google Earth.” Roark’s accent disappeared when he was deep into the research.
“Criminal behavior, got it, but that’s not enough.” Evie watched KK’s aura appear, emanating colors of boredom. Given KK’s natural aura, she’d have been a better party animal and worse CEO than Evie.
Which meant someone else was probably running the show. KK had been a figurehead. Did that mean elusive Lucia was a criminal mastermind? She’d know about Italian banks and Umbrian dirt lots.
“We don’t have much,” Roark repeated. “Like I said, speculation. But Dante mentioned finding an Etruscan gold cuff in Lucia’s caves which he thought was stolen. The curious thing here is that deposits to the anonymous account halted after Dante put his work crew in there.”
“Oh.” Evie sat up straight. “KK, are you listening? Did Lucia have a treasure cave?”
“Pffft.” Papers all over the room rustled as KK flitted about. “Not worth dying for.”
After speaking more words than she’d ever managed, the spirit vanished again.
Not worth dying for? Did KK mean herself?
“You may be on to something.” Evie texted Pris with what little they knew. It was evening over there. Presumably, her cousin would be done with dinner and not out trudging caves in the dark.
With the text sent, she dragged herself from the floor “All right, y’all, I guess we’d better start researching any new supply of artifacts hitting the Italian market. If KK knew something, Lucia probably knows more. It’s time we figure out where our secretive CEO is hiding. Will she go to KK’s funeral?”
“I’ve got a guy over there waiting for word of time and date,” Roark admitted. “Otherwise, all we know is that Lucia and KK share their mother’s house, but Vincent owns it.”
“Then we need to start shaking a few trees. How about this—I give our clueless blogger a list of deposits on the anonymous account. I’ll tell her...Heck, is she still hating on Larraine and Pris? Anyone else come under her radar?”
“Why are you asking?” Roark asked in suspicion.
Even Ariel turned to stare.
“Meanness.” Evie shrugged. “I’ll tell Jane the Lawless that her Target of Today’s Bigotry is receiving payments from your mysterious Italian account, and we think it has to do with KK’s death. Let her do some real investigative reporting.”
“Foolish and not safe,” Ariel said, frowning.
“Unless you think Lawless poisoned the almonds, why not try?” Evie checked around for KK but she’d gone to whatever dimension ghosts inhabited. Maybe this time she’d stay there.
“Lawson is meaner than you are, bébé. Feed the info to someone else and letthemgo to our narrow-minded blogger.” Roark typed on his phone. “Or have Jax do it.”
“I’ll hex your phone if you just told Jax that. But using a go-between ties in with another of my tasks. That might work. See you later.” With the list of deposits tucked in her tote, Evie took off before they could question.
Ariel’s cottage was only a mile or so from home, but with the November weather turning cool, Evie had driven over. She was also learning that responsibility for a kid required being adult enough to reach the school quickly, with adequate transport of said child, if only for doctor appointments.
Checking the time, she drove straight to the school instead of stopping at home. Loretta usually walked or biked, but Evie wanted her safely installed with Mavis before she set out on her vengeance campaign.
“People are saying nasty things about Larraine,” Loretta said, climbing into the back. “I want to start a blog. If we had a video camera—”
Evie held up her hand in a stop gesture. “Cameras, not my circus. And putting your face out there is an invitation to trouble. I think Larraine can handle herself, but if you want to practice writing... ”
“As if I need practice,” scoffed the eleven-year-old who had written her own legally-correct guardianship papers. “But she ought to know she has supporters. I’ll make the blog anonymous so I can say what I like.”
Evie stifled a groan. “Said every half-wit on the internet. You will berespectful.The world already has enough uncivilized behavior. Lead by example.”
“Boring.” But Loretta wasn’t sulking as she jumped out at Mavis’s Psychic Solutions shop.
Life had been so much simpler before computers. Except Evie really did like her cell phone. She used it to call La Bella Gente and ask for Rhonda Tart, Victor Gladwell’s supposed mistress. No point in going further if her victim wasn’t present.
“Speaking,” said a clipped British voice.
