No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7 (12 page)

“Did you know that Dynamic
Realty Trust owns Gloria’s condo?”

“As in Ralph bought the
place for her?”

“Exactly.”

“When?” I wanted to know how
long the two of them were shacking up.

“Six years ago,” was his
reply. “She was still working at Temps, Inc. then. What I don’t
understand is where she got the money for her boat.”

“Gloria has a
boat?”

“She does. It’s a 24’ Tige
RZ4 model, year 2008. She paid just over $62,000 in cash for it,
and she’s the registered owner. Her salary from Dynamic Productions
is just under $28,000. She’s got no other income, according to her
credit reports.”

“How could she afford a boat
like that?” I wondered.

“How indeed,” Bosco agreed.
“It looks like Ralph and Gloria have been living the high life for
quite some time. You should see his charges for entertaining
clients. Apparently, he’s been meeting them at the casinos or
racetracks. All the hotels are within a mile or two of Atlantic
City, Ledyard, Montville, Sarasota, Queens, and Niagra Falls. Or
should I say Viagra Falls, in Ralph’s honor?”

“So, Ralph’s been playing
and we’ve been paying?”

“Pretty much. You know, I
went over that financial report he gave us before we gave him the
$25,000 to expand. It looked legitimate, right down to his bank
statements. On closer examination, it looks like he Photoshopped
the documents. They’re all forged. I can’t believe he fooled us
this way. I can’t believe I was this dumb.”

“How do you think I feel?” I
shook my head. “I went to work every day. I sat in the room next to
him. I let Gloria get me a cup of coffee and it never occurred to
me the two of them were robbing us blind.”

“More importantly,” Bosco
pointed out, “they brought the Winks on board. That explosion was
no accident.”

“But why blow up the house?
That’s the part I don’t understand.”

“They always planned to
blame you, Dori. They need you to look guilty. If Tony is telling
you that Ralph says you’re having a mental breakdown, we need to
bring the cops up to speed now. We have to show them these credit
reports. We have to show them we’re legitimate partners in Dynamic
Productions. And we have to tell them about the Winks.”

“In other words, everyone is
going to know what a fool I’ve been?”

“No, babe. Everyone is going
to see that you came to your sense and took back your life. No more
Ms. Nice Girl, vulnerable to predators. You’ve grown a set of
cajones. It’s time to use them.”

“We need to find that
missing equipment, too, before I get blamed for that.”

We spent the rest of the
evening writing up a timeline, documenting the missing money and
equipment, as well as the padding of bills. We worked side by side,
in companionable silence, broken by occasional commentary. Finally
reaching the end of the time line, I put my tablet on the coffee
table.

“Bosco, you know what I
really need?”

“What’s that?” He barely
looked up from his clipboard, not even bothering to stop
writing.

“I need the serial numbers
of the missing equipment if we’re going to track that stuff down.
I’ll have to go in tomorrow and go through the files.”

“Why wait till tomorrow?” he
said, looking at me through his glasses. Let’s go take a look
now.”

“But it’s almost ten,” I
pointed out.

“What happened to the new
Dori? Look, kid. If there’s one thing I’ve learned as a forensic
accountant, it’s that you secure the evidence as soon as you become
aware of its existence. You never let the bad guys get the jump on
you by giving them time to destroy documents. Let’s rock and roll.
Let me just forward these files to Honshield Walker and we’re out
of here.”

Twenty minutes later, we
were about to pull into the parking lot for Dynamic
Productions.

“Don’t pull in!” I cried out
loud. “Drive by!”

“Is that Ralph’s van?” Bosco
asked. There were lights on in the building.

“Yes. What do you suppose
he’s doing in there at this time of night?”

“Something he doesn’t want
anyone else to know,” Bosco decided. “Come on. Let’s check it out
on foot.”

We left the car down the
road, at the Tastee Freez parking lot. I grabbed my purse and got
out, joining Bosco as we made our way back to Dynamic Productions.
We ran quickly, hugging the tree line, away from the street
traffic. The lights were on in the outer office, but the blinds
were closed.

“Can you see anything?” I
whispered to Bosco as he pressed his nose up against the
glass.

“Nope. Any other way into
the building?”

“Back door.”

“Got a key?”

“Yes.” I dug through my
purse for my key ring. “Follow me.”

Two minutes later, we were
through the back door, making our way across the soundstage,
towards the front of the building. I could hear Ralph moving things
around in the distance. Bosco grabbed my hand and pulled me close,
putting his lips by my ear.

“We’re going to take a quick
look-see, and then we’re calling the cops. I want to catch him in
the act.”

“Hold on,” I whispered back.
I dug into my purse and took out my flip camera.

“Brilliant!” Bosco grinned
and gave me a long, deep, wet kiss in the darkness.

We crept forward, moving
slowly, listening for any sounds to suggest Ralph was headed our
way. We could see him carrying boxes of files, dumping them in the
center of the room.

“We have to get down the
hall without him seeing us,” Bosco told me softly. “Can we park
ourselves in your office? Is the door locked?”

“I left it open,” I
responded. “If we can get to the production booth, that’s halfway
down the hall.”

The minute Ralph emptied the
carton he carried in his hands and turned, we ran the twenty feet
to the tiny soundproofed room. Watching from behind the door, we
waited again for him to drop the next batch of files on the pile.
As he again turned away, we crossed to my office and tucked
ourselves into the shadows. When I saw the cans of acetone lined up
on the counter, I took out the camera and pressed the record
button.

“I’m going to go call the
cops and the fire department. Can you stay out of sight and keep
filming?” Bosco spoke into my ear. I nodded. “I’ll just be right
outside. Holler if you need me.”

As soon as I saw he made it
back to the rear of the building, I aimed the camera in Ralph’s
direction, thanking God that the last time I used the camera, I had
deleted unnecessary files and recharged the battery. I had a good
twenty-five-minute recording time. Hopefully, Ralph would
incriminate himself before the camera shut off.

The front office door burst
open unexpectedly, and Gloria appeared, her arms full of jugs of
what looked like more acetone.

“Aren’t you done yet?” she
demanded.

“Just a couple more boxes. I
want to make sure that I get it all.”

“I had to go to two
different Home Depots to get all this. I have more in the car. Come
help me carry it in.” Ralph followed her outside. As the door
opened, I could see them lifting the containers from the lit trunk
of Gloria’s car, so I risked being seen and stepped forward for a
good ten seconds’ worth of filming. Just as quickly, I retreated
into the shadows, in anticipation of their return. By the time they
came through the door with accelerant-laden arms, I had a good
angle to capture them in action. They were bickering as they
hurried to get everything set up.

“Did you get the cameras out
of the equipment room yet?” Gloria asked.

“I haven’t had time.” Ralph
was frustrated, trying to open the cans. “Do we have a
screwdriver?”

“In my top desk drawer,” she
replied, heading my way. I ducked behind the door, hoping Bosco had
the good sense to hide, wherever he was. He had been gone at least
six minutes. To my horror, Gloria flipped on the hallway lights and
I had barely enough time to move my pocketbook out of sight. I
could hear her taking cases off the shelf and putting them down on
the floor. A moment later, she emerged from the storage room, arms
full. By then, I had positioned the flip phone on top of the
frameless box canvas print of Lamson Woods hanging outside my
office door. Gloria probably didn’t realize she just helped me
obtain the evidence of their criminal conspiracy. Now that the
hallway was lit, the camera would produce a beautiful HD recording
of their activities. Positioned towards the front office, it
captured the action as I hid in the dark. She came back twice more.
As they worked, they carried on a conversation that was
damning.

“Where are you going to
start the fire?” Gloria asked her accomplice.

“I’m setting the smallest
fire on the soundstage, and then I’m going to set Dori’s office on
fire, so it looks like she tried to destroy evidence. I’ll set this
one when I’m ready to leave.”

“Why not start here, so
we’re sure all the files are destroyed?”

“Too dangerous,” he
insisted. “We could get trapped.”

“It’s too dangerous if the
files don’t burn completely, or if somebody sees the smoke before
the papers all burn and the computer is fried. Did you scrub the
hard drive?”

As they talked on, I tried
to figure out how I would get out of my windowless office without
discovery. Short of running down the well-lit hallway, I didn’t
seem to have a lot of options. Just then, the phone rang, and I
heard Gloria gasp.

“Who could that be?” Ralph
wondered. “Were we seen?”

“Answer it. Just play it
cool.”

“Hello? Who is this? No, ou
cannot have the number five with fried rice!”That sounded like
Bosco’s handiwork. I could see them huddled around the phone on
Gloria’s desk, so I slipped out from behind my office door and tore
down the hallway, my purse flying behind me. As soon as I was
through the doorway, Bosco grabbed me and pulled me to the
wall.

“The cops are on their way,
the fire department will be standing by on the street. We have to
get out of here.”

“My camera’s in the hall,” I
whispered. It’s still rolling.”

“It’s okay,” he insisted,
pulling me towards the back door. Outside, in the moonless night,
we hurried down the alley. When we reached the complex driveway, we
headed down the street. Three police cars, a couple of fire
engines, and a slew of emergency vehicles were already waiting, out
of sight.

The commander of the police
unit peppered me with questions as we stood there. I explained
about my camera in the hallway, Ralph’s plan of action, and the
fact that they had already loaded equipment into Gloria’s car.
Several police officers were deployed with my key to cover the back
of the building. As soon as Ralph turned on the light in the
soundstage, it would be the cue for the rest of the cops to go
through the front office door. On the off-chance that Gloria and
Ralph had locked the front door, I supplied my key for that, too.
One officer was to grab the camera as evidence, just to make sure
it wasn’t destroyed. I drew a quick sketch of the inside of the
building, so they had an idea of what to expect. As I did, another
police vehicle pulled up and the deputy chief stepped
out.

“Okay, tell me what you’ve
got,” he directed his second-in-command on the scene. As they were
talking, the fire chief approached.

“What do they have inside?
Tell me the set up, so we can figure out how we’re going to fight
it if it burns. We’ve got chemicals, so get ready, people. Masks
on, foam ready, and we need to contain the water we use, because
we’re fighting a hazardous chemical fire.”

Ten minutes later, the
radios began to crackle and the officers left behind were
monitoring the communications.

“We’re ready, boss. He’s in
the back of the building.”

“Where’s the
woman?”

“We’re not sure. She might
be in the other office.”

“Tell the guys to peek
inside. We don’t want her locking herself in that room, especially
if she’s dumb enough or crazy enough to light a match.” The fire
engines were ready to roll, the firefighters in their gear. They
had already hooked the hose up to the hydrant on the street and
were ready to turn on the water. We all began moving up the street
to get a better view of the finale. One moment, all was quiet. The
next, chaos reigned. A loud explosion blew out the windows of
Dynamic Productions. The big bang reverberated for several seconds
as we watched emergency responders with their tanks of foam pour
through the doorway as flames shot out into the night. Even from a
distance, we could hear the tinkle of broken glass bouncing on the
pavement.

Chapter Thirteen
--

“What the hell was that?”
said a baffled voice to my right.

“Sounded like an M-80.” A
firefighter shook his head, waiting to move in on the next wave of
responders.

“What kind of idiot throws
an explosive at fire accelerants?” Another man beside him
wondered.