As if he could read my mind, his lips quirked again. “Jasmine doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”
I did not dignify this with an answer. Which seemed to amuse him even more, his eye crinkling at the corners. However, he didn’t comment, but instead changed his line of questioning. “When was the last time you saw Richard Howe?”
“Friday. We were supposed to have lunch together. What is this about anyway?”
“Did he cancel?”
“No, I was late.” I cringed at the sound of the word echoing through my own head. “When I got here he was talking to you, then he…” I trailed off, remembering the way Richard had stared after Ramirez, then abruptly cancelled our lunch. It was clear even then he’d had something on his mind. And I didn’t like the way that something had prompted Richard to pack his bags for parts unknown.
I swallowed hard, trying to change the subject. “How did you even get in here?” I asked, knowing that if Jasmine hadn’t let me in there was no way she’d let a cop in.
He grinned. “I have a warrant.”
Double ugh. Suddenly my theories of blackmail and secret cover-ups weren’t sounding so far fetched. “Warrant?” I squeaked out. “As in, you have the right to remain silent?”
His smile widened, a dimple punctuating his left cheek. Clearly he was enjoying this. Personally I wasn’t finding the predicament all that funny. My boyfriend was missing, there was a cop in his office with a warrant, and I had a pregnancy kit sitting on my kitchen counter waiting for another Big Gulp moment. This was not the stuff sitcoms were made of.
“It’s a search warrant,” he said. He sat down at Richard’s desk, picked up the file I’d just been attempting to read and began scanning its contents. His forehead creased in concentration. Apparently it meant something more to him than it had me. I tried to read over his shoulder, to see if words that made sense had suddenly materialized on the paper. Nope. Same foreign language.
“Searching for what?” I asked finally.
“Evidence.” It was clear this guy wasn’t going to win any public speaking awards.
If I wanted information, I was going to have to pry it out of him. I mentally greased up my crowbar. “Okay, I give up. What exactly is going on here?”
Ramirez looked up. He narrowed his eyes at me, as if trying to decide how much to share. “All right. Your boyfriend,” he said emphasizing the word as if he didn’t really believe it, “is wanted for questioning in connection with embezzlement charges we’ve brought against one of his clients. Devon Greenway.” He paused. “You’ve heard of him.”
I had, and apparently my expression betrayed it. Devon Greenway was one of Richard’s biggest clients. I knew Richard had met with him often. In fact he’d canceled a dinner date with me just last Thursday to meet with him. However, if Richard was in trouble I wasn’t going to be the one to nail his coffin.
“I may have heard the name.”
Ramirez pinned me with a look that could pry pearls out of an oyster. Great, I had to pick now to become a terrible liar.
“Devon Greenway is the CEO of Newtone Technologies,” he continued. “They’re in the process of filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission for a place on the New York Stock Exchange. However, in the course of an independent audit of the company’s finances, a minor discrepancy was noticed.”
“How minor?”
“Twenty million dollars.”
“Wow.” I was so in the wrong business.
“No kidding. But before we could file charges, Greenway skipped town.”
“And the cash?”
“Just as elusive. Originally the money was funneled from Newtone into a joint usage account, from which a series of checks were drawn made out to PetriCorp. On the surface everything looked legit until we realized that PetriCorp was only a business on paper. And guess who owns it.”
“Devon Greenway?”
“Close. Under the business filing the owner of record is his wife, Celia. Filed under her maiden name, Wesley. Only PetriCorp’s accounts are now empty, too. The paper trail ends with the person who set the accounts up in the first place.”
A knot formed in my gut. “Richard?”
“Bingo.” Ramirez sat back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest again, watching me digest this information.
I tried not to look as shaken as I felt. “So, is Richard a suspect?”
Ramirez’s face was unreadable. “He’s a person of interest.”
Uh oh. I’d watched enough episodes of Law & Order to know what that meant. Just one thing. I really had to find Richard now.
Before Ramirez did.
As soon as I could I hightailed it out of there. I didn’t even wait for Jasmine to go on break before barging back through the frosted doors and jogging across the reception area to the tune of her calling “fraud” after me.
My head was spinning the entire two blocks back to the garage. Richard had blown me off and had dinner with Greenway last week. If what Ramirez said was true, it would have been the day before Richard took off for parts unknown. Suddenly I didn’t want to know what had gone on at that meeting.
Not that I thought Richard was involved. Richard was a straight arrow, he couldn’t even stand his tie being crooked. He would never be involved in something illegal. However, if he’d unwittingly helped Greenway, it was possible he knew more than was good for him, and if Greenway was as unscrupulous as he sounded, Richard might be in danger. And I didn’t have the feeling he’d fare much better if Ramirez found him first. Any way you looked at it, my boyfriend was up shit creek.
I climbed the stairs to the second story of the parking structure and revved up my Jeep, pulling out onto Grand. I was contemplating my next move at a red light, when I saw Ramirez emerge from Richard’s building and jump into a black SUV. Parked illegally. The perks of being the law. He started the SUV and pulled into traffic three cars ahead of me. As the light turned green I watched him weave through downtown, making a sharp right onto 8. On instinct, I changed gears and followed him.
Did I know what I was doing? No. But it was abundantly clear that Richard hadn’t just gone home to take care of his ailing mother. And I didn’t have any better ideas.
Feeling very sly, I stayed two car lengths back as Ramirez got onto the 110 heading south. I followed him right through downtown, passing through Watts and Compton until we hit the 405. He was going a reasonably decent speed and I wished I had a less conspicuous car. While I loved my red Jeep, it didn’t really blend into the background. I made a mental note to borrow Dana’s tan Saturn if any more surveillance was needed.
The SUV continued south until we turned off at the 22, heading east toward the 5 and Orange County. It was getting late and I knew we’d hit traffic once we got to the 5. And I was starving. I reached across to my glove box, hoping for some protein bar Dana might have left in there. All I came up with was a packet of stale saltines and a stick of Doublemint. I ate the crackers, hoping Ramirez would pull into a Taco Bell soon.
No such luck. We merged onto the 5 and Ramirez moved into the left lane, settling in for a long drive. I groaned, making a mental note to always eat before tailing a cop.
Just when I’d decided I was on a wild goose chase and going to faint from hunger if I didn’t have a Big Beefy DelDeluxe, Ramirez exited the freeway at Bear Street, toward the San Joaquin Corridor. My heart did a little jump as I realized he was taking me right into the heart of Orange County’s premier shopping district. Maybe Ramirez wasn’t such a bad guy after all.
As we neared the South Coast Plaza, Ramirez pulled away from the shopping district and into the residential. He moved through streets lined with two-story California Spanish villas and faux Tudors until he pulled up to a large, modern home, all glass on one side. I could tell it was designed by some famous architect or other by the angular lines of the structure, looming as if it was ready to topple in the next 6.3 earthquake. The small yard was done in utilitarian bluegrass and decorative stone, which echoed the stark feeling of the glass structure.