Coming to Rosemont (6 page)

Chapter 5

Frank Haynes was sitting at his
desk early the next morning, studying the spreadsheet detailing the terms of
his restaurant leases. He was pleased with what he saw; he had really been able
to put it to those greedy-bastard landlords in this recession. He relaxed into
his large leather chair as he swiveled to answer the phone.

“Frank, is that you?” the man asked in a throaty
whisper.

Haynes’ congenial mood evaporated. “What?”

“I went to that meeting at the library last night,
like you said. That Holmes bitch knows the accounts are short. She’s stirring
up people to hound the council for an audit. She’s formed a committee to look
into stuff.”

“Damn it. We knew this could happen. We’ve got
contingency plans in place. And a bunch of local yokels aren’t going to be able
to figure this out,” Haynes replied.

“They’re not all local yokels, Frank. They’ve got
Scanlon on the committee. He may be a queer, but he was one tough mother when
he was a prosecutor. And you can’t shake off that Holmes broad.”

“Who else do they have?”

“Not sure if this is everybody, but it looks like
a worn-out teacher, that school janitor guy Torres who does handyman work, the
vet (he’s smart), and some new broad. I think she must be the CPA they said
they wanted.”

Haynes cocked one eyebrow. Was Maggie Martin
sticking her nose in this? What a pain in the ass she was turning out to be.

“Frank? That’s all I found out. Expect to get
calls from your constituents today.”

“You did good. Thank you.”

“Anything else you want me to do?”

“No—not yet.” Haynes slowly replaced the
receiver.

Getting Martin out of Rosemont and headed back to
California was looking more attractive all the time. What was it they said
about keeping friends close and enemies closer? He’d have to keep an eye on
her.

Chapter 6

Maggie rose early on Saturday and
dropped Eve off at the Westbury Animal Hospital. It was hard to say which one
was more anxious and miserable about being apart. Maggie was grateful that she
had the committee meeting at Pete’s to take her mind off of their parting.

She walked through the door of Pete’s Bistro at
ten minutes before eight. The place was getting busy with people running
weekend errands, joggers, and dog walkers taking a break. She introduced herself
to the man behind the counter. Pete Fitzpatrick greeted her warmly and said he
had heard a lot about her from his wife and from Dr. Allen. “Your meeting is in
the room on the right at the top of the stairs,” he told her. “You’re the first
to arrive. We’ve got a full breakfast for you up there.”

Maggie skirted a young couple soothing a fussy
baby and made her way up the stairs. The heady aromas of coffee and bacon lead
her to the small, utilitarian meeting room. She was pouring herself a cup when
Tonya burst into the room juggling an unruly stack of papers and a briefcase.
Maggie quickly set her cup down and rushed over to grab them before they
escaped from Tonya’s arms.

“I just picked up copies of bank statements for
the last two years,” Tonya declared triumphantly. “The town clerk evidently
doesn’t look kindly on the fact that her pension might be in jeopardy. I haven’t
had a chance to go through them yet. I made an extra copy and was hoping you might
review them when you get back.”

“I’ll do better than that,” Maggie replied. “I’m
itching to see what’s going on. I’ll have six hours on the plane to read them
tomorrow. I won’t be able to put together a comprehensive report in that time,
but I’ll have some preliminary conclusions. I’ll call you when I land, if you
like.”

“Perfect,” Tonya replied. “The sooner the better.”

Both women turned at the sound of approaching
footsteps. John and Sam came through the door together, followed by a neatly
dressed man in his early thirties with a trim build and precise haircut. He
said hello to Tonya and introduced himself to Maggie as Alex Scanlon.

“He’s the attorney on our committee,” Tonya said.
“We’ve got the smartest, hardest-working one in the state on our side.” Alex
shrugged off the compliment, but Maggie could see he was pleased. “And here
comes Beth,” Tonya said as a stout, gray-haired woman in sensible shoes entered
the room. “Everyone, this is Beth O’Malley. She teaches economics and civics at
the high school and is our representative from the teacher’s union. Why don’t
you get your breakfast, courtesy of John, and then we’ll get started.”

As they filled their plates and crowded around the
small table, Tonya reported that the switchboard at Town Hall was swamped on
Thursday and Friday with citizens calling the mayor or their council-member to
request an audit. “I think all of this attention has those boys spooked,” she
said. “The mood is somber. No more of their self-satisfied swagger.”

She added that she had a source within Town Hall,
an employee sympathetic to their cause. The mayor must not find out that this
person was feeding them information or they could lose their job. “Our source
gave us bank statements. Maggie has agreed to take a first pass through them on
her flight back to California tomorrow. She’s going to call me tomorrow night
with her preliminary conclusions. I’ll be in touch with all of you Monday, and
we’ll decide what our next steps should be.”

“What else can we do right now?” Beth asked. “I’m
feeling fairly useless.”

Alex stated that there wasn’t much to do at the
moment. “We need to be very cautious and make sure that we have all of the
facts before we take action. I think the calls to the mayor and council are an
excellent start. They won’t be able to orchestrate a cover-up now. Maggie’s got
all of the work at the moment.”

“I understand how important this issue is and my
assistance to this committee is my top priority,” Maggie assured them. “You
don’t know me yet, but you can count on me. I’ll be gone for a week or ten
days, at the most. And I’ll have my cell phone on me at all times, so you can always
reach me.”

With that, the meeting adjourned. John grabbed the
stack of copies off of the table and, despite Maggie’s protest that she didn’t
need any help, carried them to her car. “We all appreciate your jumping into
this mess,” he said.

“This is what I do for a living, and, frankly, I’m
good at it. You need my expertise. And I want to make Westbury my home; I want
to feel connected, to be useful. I’m sorry for the circumstances, but I’m
grateful to have a project that will allow me to make my mark.”

“You’ll also be making some enemies—powerful
enemies—you realize that, don’t you?” John cautioned.

Maggie truthfully hadn’t thought about that but
assured him that she wasn’t concerned. “I’m off,” she said as she climbed into
her car. “See you soon. Take good care of Eve. I miss her already.”

Chapter 7

By the time Maggie landed at LAX
early the next afternoon, she had reached solid conclusions and was anxious to
relay them to Tonya.

Maggie called Susan and Mike from her car to let
them know she was safely home and invited them to dinner the next night. She
needed to tell them about her move and get them thinking about what they wanted
from the house. They both acquiesced after she insisted it couldn’t wait until
the weekend. Maggie made a quick stop at the grocery and pulled into the
familiar driveway shortly after three o’clock.

The house seemed cold and almost accusatory when
she stepped through the side door with her purchases.
It knows,
she
thought. Maggie was surprised she wasn’t glad to be back in the house and
wandered from room to room, looking at the familiar furnishings, trying to feel
something—anything. The sleek leather sofa that had been so inviting no
longer beckoned. The slate floors and chic gray walls seemed sterile, the glass
tabletops antiseptic. It was no longer home. Any doubts about her move to
Rosemont evaporated.

She spent the next hour going through the house,
making lists of things to pack. She would get boxes and bubble wrap the next
morning.

Promptly at five o’clock, Maggie spread the bank
statements out on her dining room table and dialed Tonya. She answered on the second
ring. “Well?” she asked, skipping any polite small talk.

Maggie launched into her conclusions. “The town’s
revenue has declined over the past two years and appears to have stabilized,
with an increasing trend for the last six months. That’s the good news,” she
said. “The main operating account appears to pay legitimate expenses, with the
exception of monthly transfers in large amounts—between ten and one
hundred thousand dollars each—to offshore accounts.”

“First I’ve heard of that,” Tonya huffed. “There
can’t be any legitimate reason for that.”

“I agree. We need to find out about those
accounts—their ownership—and where the money goes from there. We’ll
need Alex’s help with that. At least we have the account numbers and depository
institutions. We’re at a standstill until we get more information. But I
believe this confirms our suspicions that someone is embezzling.”

“I can guess who,” Tonya insisted. “Wheeler and
Delgado, for sure. The council is probably all dirty. Except maybe Frank
Haynes. He’s an odd duck, to be sure. I don’t know if he’s in on it or not.
He’s been on the council for at least a decade, but he keeps to himself. Just
sits on the council, runs his fast-food franchises, and supports the no-kill
animal shelter. Anyone who loves animals that much can’t be all bad. Anyway,
I’m half-tempted to confront them all right now.”

“No,” Maggie cautioned. “That would be very
foolish. We need more information. And this is definitely big-time criminal
activity. Could they be mob connected?”

“There have been rumors of that for years,” Tonya
said. “You’re right. I need to keep a cool head for now and sit on this while
we keep digging. What did you see with respect to the pension account?”

Maggie looked over her notes. “The deposits to
that account have decreased as the town’s revenue has decreased, but the
contributions have remained at the same percentage of revenue. So I don’t think
that the funding of the account is a problem. The treasurer’s report states
that the value of the assets in the account is way down. Most investments have
been hurt by the Recession, so it’s hard to tell whether the decline is due to
ordinary market risk or whether the investments made by the pension fund were
poor or inappropriate. And since we don’t know what the pension fund is
invested in, we can’t assess whether those investments are likely to recover as
the economy improves. Do you have an outside investment advisor for the pension
fund, and is the fund audited?”

“I wish,” Tonya said angrily. “The investment
manager is Wheeler’s brother-in-law, Ron Delgado. I’ll bet that the pension
fund is ‘invested’ in the business interests of Wheeler, Delgado, the council,
and their cronies. This whole thing makes me furious. The town employees get an
annual report about the pension fund. I’ll get copies to you and Alex.”

“Be very discreet,” Maggie warned. “We’re starting
to pull on a thread, and we don’t know what it will unravel. Someone’s been embezzling
for years and won’t look kindly on this investigation. One more thing may work
in our favor. If they’ve been doing this for years, they’ve probably gotten
sloppy in covering their tracks. Someone may have slipped up somewhere, and
that will help us find out what’s been going on.”

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Tonya said. “And
you’re right. I’ll be careful.”

“I’ll drop what I’m doing here to review anything
you can get hold of,” Maggie promised. “This is going to take time to
straighten out. Don’t do anything rash.”

***

Maggie slept uneasily her first
night back in California. She woke frequently, worried about the corruption in
Westbury. And she missed the sweet comfort of Eve’s presence at her feet.

Despite her restless night, Maggie woke early,
full of energy. By noon, she had decided what to take to Rosemont and made
arrangements for movers to come on Wednesday. She signed listing papers on her
house that afternoon, with the sign set to go in the yard by the end of the
week. Fortunately, the house and yard were in good shape, and the minor repairs
and touch-ups would be handled by the realtor after Maggie returned to
Westbury.

Maggie decided it was time to set the stage for
the nice dinner she had planned with Mike and Susan. This would be her last
party in this house, she realized wistfully. She reflected on all of the entertaining
she had done here, most of it supporting Paul’s career. Intimate dinners with
colleagues, receptions for alumni donors, brunches for academics. They hosted
something at least once a week. She prided herself on her ability to conjure up
a meal for fifty on a moment’s notice. Maggie had a short list of specialty
shops that could be counted on to supply breads, desserts, and appetizers. They
didn’t have the budget for a caterer, so Maggie did all of the planning and
most of the cooking herself. She loved throwing a party and knew she had a
well-deserved reputation for hospitality. It was disorienting when all of that
activity came to a screeching halt after Paul’s death. She remembered the
fabulous kitchen at Rosemont and promised herself that she would form a new
circle of friends, this time centered on her interests, and reestablish herself
in Westbury.

Maggie placed a rib roast in the oven and set
about making an apple pie. She peeled potatoes and put them on the stove to
boil. The situation required comfort food, to be sure. The soothing aroma of
a home-cooked meal bolstered her. Although she hated to admit it, she was
apprehensive about telling her children that she was selling the house and
moving to Westbury. Whose life was it, anyway? As she worked, she rehearsed
what she wanted to say to them.

Mike barged into the kitchen promptly at six
o’clock, declaring, “Something smells good!” He swept his mother into a hug
that lifted her off her feet. She choked back tears as she placed a kiss on
each cheek. “You okay, Mom?” he asked as held her at arms’ length. She nodded
and motioned for him to open the wine he had brought and pour them both a
glass. They were catching up on the news of the twins when Susan blew through
the door with her typical rush of apologies for being late and laments about
how busy she was at work. Mike rolled his eyes and handed her a glass of wine.

“So, Mom, tell us all about Rosemont,” Susan said.

“It’s a mini Downton Abbey. Photos don’t do it
justice, but they’ll have to suffice,” Maggie said, showing them the snapshots
she had loaded onto her laptop. Her children were suitably stunned and impressed.

Susan gasped. “This is absolutely magnificent. Why
do you think Dad never mentioned his family in Westbury? And why did he never
tell us he inherited Rosemont? It must be worth a tidy sum.”

“Knowing Dad, he probably wanted to take us all
there as a surprise. But he never got the chance,” Mike observed sadly.

Maggie had repeatedly asked herself these same
questions, but she suspected his reasons for keeping Rosemont and the small
fortune associated with it a secret were not so honorable. She buried these
thoughts and said, “The people in Westbury are warm and friendly and genuine.
When I was there I felt a peacefulness and purposefulness that I haven’t felt in
months.” She quickly continued before she lost her nerve. “I think Westbury is
the perfect place for the fresh start I’ve been craving.”

At this statement, both children stared at Maggie.
She held her breath and looked calmly back at them.

“What do you mean, Mom? Fresh start? I don’t get
it,” Susan finally replied.

“You know how awkward things have been for me with
the college crowd. The new president and his wife are headed in a different
direction and don’t want me hanging around. I don’t feel like I fit anywhere
anymore. Helen is the only friend that I continue to see.” Maggie raised her
hand to hush their objections. “You both have your own lives. I need to have
mine. I can run my business from any-where with a phone and a computer.”

“So you’re thinking of moving there?” Susan
choked.

“That’s exactly what I’ve decided to do,” Maggie
replied with her best attempt at a firm, confident voice.

“But you don’t know anyone there,” Susan
protested.

“Won’t you rattle around in that huge house all
alone? Won’t that make you feel more alone?” Mike interjected.

“You know, that’s the part I’m most sure
of—that I won’t be lonely in that house. When the front door closed
behind me that first night, I knew I was home. I never told you, but I checked
out of the hotel and moved into Rosemont the night I arrived.” Mike and Susan
exchanged a skeptical glance. “And you know, the most extraordinary thing
happened the next morning. I adopted a lost dog. Or more accurately, she
adopted me,” Maggie said, and told them about Eve. “So you see, I won’t be
alone there.”

Both children remained silent.
They’re
astonished,
Maggie thought with a measure of satisfaction.

“I didn’t even know you liked dogs,” Susan
muttered.

“Your dad was such a dominant character,” Maggie
said. “There are a lot of things that I gave up rather than argue with him
about. Pets were one of those things.”

“What about the twins?” Mike asked. “You adore
each other. They’ll be devastated. I can’t believe that you would move so far
away from them.”

“I’ve thought a lot about that,” Maggie said. “I
travel on business all the time. I’ll be out here at least one week a month.
I’ll probably see them as much as I do now. And they can come spend summer
vacations with me, and we’ll have a lot of old-fashioned fun that they don’t
have now,” she added. “Being exposed to a different part of the country will be
good for them. For both of you, too”

“So when do you plan to do all of this? Just up
and leave us?” Susan pouted.

“Maybe you should try it out for a few months to
see if you like it.” Mike suggested reasonably.

“I’ve volunteered to assist the town council with
an accounting matter,” Maggie stated, glossing over the severity of it. “I’ll
need to get back to Westbury as soon as possible. I’ve had Rosemont cleaned and
hooked up to cable and Internet, so it’s ready to go. This house is too much of
a handful to hang onto as a second home. It’s also too full of memories of your
dad. You know that I’ve been toying with the idea of selling it, and have
decided to do that. I’ve listed it for sale, and I’m having movers pack up what
I want to take to Rosemont. I’ll rent a place closer to the two of you,” she
added quickly. “And maybe you can keep your eyes peeled for a nice townhouse
that I can purchase to be my home out here.”

“I’m just shocked.” Susan sniffed. The tears she
had been holding back broke free. “I think this is impetuous and selfish. We
need you here. If you want to give this harebrained idea a try, do it; but
don’t sell this house yet.”

Mike nodded in agreement. “No need to rush into
this. Just hang onto your house for now. You can buy something else later.”

“I considered that,” Maggie said. “I’ve thought
about this long and hard. I’ve always supported the two of you in your
decisions, haven’t I?” She looked pointedly at both of her children and could
see that she had hit her mark. “I need a clean slate.”

Susan turned away, but Mike nodded and took
Maggie’s hand. Encouraged, she continued, “I don’t want any of this furniture.
I want the two of you to take anything and everything you’d like to have. The
more the better. Anything that you don’t want, I’ll sell or donate. There’s no
real rush. My stuff will be out of here on Wednesday. The realtor will have
someone stage the house on Friday. You can come by any time to select what you
want. I only ask that you be fair to each other and don’t make a mess for the
realtor.”

“Well, duh, Mom,” Susan said with an impatient
shake of her head.

“We just want you to be happy.” Mike sighed. “If
this is what you want, we’ll do whatever we can to help you. You can always
come back if it doesn’t work out. Nothing’s permanent.”

“And thank you for letting us take things from the
house.” Susan snuffled. “I love some of this stuff.”

Maggie smiled at the two faces she cherished most
in the world. They were wonderful children, and things were going to work out
just fine.