Born in Death (In Death #23)(79)

“I’ve never hurt another human being in my life. I never left the house that night. My God, my God, what is happening?”

“So you let Bullock or Chase do the dirty work?”

“This is absurd. Of course not.”

“I’m going to get a warrant for your other files, Mr. Kraus. What you did with one, you did with others.”

“You can get a warrant for whatever you like. You’ll find nothing because I’ve done nothing. You’re mistaken about the Bullock accounts. Natalie must have been mistaken, because there can’t be anything wrong with them. Randall—”

Eve pounced. “What does Randall Sloan have to do with it?”

Kraus rubbed his hands over his face, then signaled to the waiter he’d initially waved away. “Scotch, straight up. A double. My God, my God.”

“What does Randall Sloan have to do with the Bullock account?”

“It’s his account. It’s my name of record, but it’s his account.”

“Why don’t you explain to me how that works?”

“He brought them into the firm, years ago. I had just come on as a junior partner. But his father wouldn’t allow him to head the account. There’d been some question of Randall’s reliability, his—ah—skills and work ethic. He’s better suited in public relations. But he brought the account in, and I was new. He came to me, asked me…It wasn’t precisely asking.”

Kraus took the glass the waiter brought him, downed a quick swallow. “I felt pressured, and to be honest, I thought it was unfair that he wasn’t given the account. So I agreed to keep my name on it, and he would do the actual business. I’d check the bottom line, of course, every quarter. And if there was any problem, any question, I’d take over. But the client was satisfied.”

“I bet they were,” Eve replied.

“She didn’t come to me. I swear to you, Natalie didn’t come to me about any problems, any questions.”

“Who knew that Sloan was doing the books for Bullock?”

“I didn’t think anyone did. He told me it was just a matter of pride, and I believed him. But he’d never hurt Natalie. She was almost like a daughter to him. This has to be some horrible mistake.”

“Does Madeline Bullock normally stay at your home when she and her son come to New York?”

“No. But Madeline was talking to my wife and mentioned that she loved our home, how welcoming it was, how peaceful. One thing led to another, and they agreed to stay with us. I need to see those records. I’m entitled to see them. I’m sure there’s just some misunderstanding.”

“Tell me about Randall Sloan’s lifestyle.”

“Please don’t ask me to speak behind the back of an associate. A friend. The son of my partner.”

Eve said nothing, just waited.

Kraus drank the rest of his scotch, signaled for another. “He gambles. Or he did. And poorly. There were rumors that some time ago—before I came to the firm—he skimmed a bit from one or two clients, and his father had to replace the funds. But he went into a program, for the gambling. There’s been no hint of anything improper for years. His father…Jacob’s a hard man, integrity is a god. His son smeared that. Randall will never be a partner. He accepts it. He prefers the work he does, in any case, to the administration, the accounting.”

“Yet he pressured you into giving him, under the table, we’ll say, a major account.”

“He brought them in,” Kraus repeated, and Eve nodded.

“Yeah, that’s interesting, isn’t it?”

You believe him,” Roarke said when they left Kraus sitting under the umbrella in the pseudosunlight with his head in his hands.

“Yeah. You?”

“I do, yes. The outsider, the last man in, so to speak, doing a favor for the big man’s son. It’s reasonable. And clever of Sloan and the Bullock people not to use each other for alibis.”

“You got a dupe, you use the dupe. You drive,” she told him, and gave him Randall Sloan’s address. “Looks like I’m tagging London again.”

She put in a transmission to Madeline Bullock’s home in London and got what she thought of as a Summerset clone. Not quite as bony in the face, she decided, but just as dour.

“Ms. Bullock is traveling.”

“Where?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“If Scotland Yard knocked on your door in the next thirty minutes, could you say then?”

He actually sniffed. “I could not.”

“Okay. Say the house burns down. How would you reach Ms. Bullock to tell her the bad news?”

“On her private number, on her pocket ’link.”

“Why don’t you give me that?”

“Lieutenant, I am under no obligation to provide foreign authorities with Ms. Bullock’s private business.”

“Got me there. But even in the colonies we have our ways of getting information.” She clicked off. “Do they go to school for that?” she demanded of Roarke. “Is there a Tight-Ass University? Did Summerset graduatecum laude ?”

“First in his class. Do you want to drive while I find the number you need?”

“I somehow managed to fumble my way through such pesky chores before I met you.” She started the search, then stopped. Sat back. “You know what? I’ve got a better.” She got Feeney at home.