Loyalty in Death (In Death #9)(25)

“Oh yes,” Roarke agreed. “Yes, you do.”

She looked back at him, struggled to ignore the slick ball of lust the gleam in his eyes caused. “Men are so weird.”

“Then have pity on us.”

“I’m not parading around in my underwear so you can cook up some sordid little fantasy.”

“That’s all right,” he said as she snatched up a robe and bundled into it. “It’s already cooked. We can do this faster in my office.”

As she belted the robe, she eyed him suspiciously. “Do what faster?”

“Why, access the data, Lieutenant. What else?”

She refused to acknowledge the little tug of disappointment. “This is official business. I want the search initialized from my machine.”

“You’re the boss.” He took her hand to lead her out.

“Just remember that.”

“Darling, with what you’re wearing under that robe forever imprinted on my memory, how could I forget?”

“All roads,” she said dryly, “don’t lead back to sex.”

“The best ones do.” He gave her butt a friendly pat as she preceded him into her office.

Galahad was curled up in her sleep chair. The cat raised his head in obvious annoyance at the disturbance. Since neither of them headed for the kitchen, he closed his eyes again and ignored them.

She slid the warrant into a slot on her computer, engaged it. “I know how to do a financial search. You’re just here to interpret and tell me if you think she’s got anything buried under layers.”

“I’m here to serve.”

“Cut that out.” She dropped into the chair at her desk and called up Lisbeth Cooke’s case file. “Hold current data,” she ordered, “and initiate search of financial records on subject’s name and identification number. All accounts, cash, credit, and debit. Start with one-year period back from this date.”

Working….

“Personal property?” Roarke asked.

“I’ll get to it. We’ll do the bucks first.”

Data complete. Cooke, Lisbeth has four cash/credit accounts active.

“Scroll data on-screen.”

Acknowledged….

Eve made a low sound as the data popped. “Over two million in New York Security, another one and a half in New World Bank, just under a mil in American Trust, and a quarter million in Credit Managers.”

“The last would be for living expenses,” Roarke told her. “The other three are security and brokerage type accounts. Primarily long-term investments, managed by financial teams endorsed by those particular institutions. It’s smart business. She’s mixing high risk, big gain, with conservative interest income.”

“How can you tell that from the names of the banks and the amounts in them?”

“It’s my business to know the nature of banks. If you break this down to the next level, you’ll see she likely has a balanced mix of stocks, bonds, mutuals, and fluid cash to float into new investments as the market fluctuates.”

He ordered the breakdown himself and tapped a finger on the screen. “There, you see she believes in her own company. There’s a healthy chunk of stocks in Branson T and T, but she hedges her bets. She also has stocks in several other companies, including a number of mine. And including three that are in direct competition with Branson. She doesn’t invest her money emotionally.”

“She’s calculating.”

“When it comes to her finances, she’s smart and she’s realistic.”

“And she’s got over four million to play with. Seems like a lot for an ad exec. Computer, detail on-screen deposits and e-transfers during the one-year period.”

Working….

When the data appeared, Eve lifted her eyebrows. “Look at that. An e-transfer from J. Clarence Branson’s account to her living expense account. A quarter million every three months. A f**king million a year. Computer, list all transfers from subject Branson’s account into the name of Lisbeth Cooke.”

Working…. Data complete. Initial transfer of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars made July second, 2055. Transfers every quarter in that amount for period of one year. Transfers increased to two hundred thousand on July second, 2056, continuing at six-month increments until July second 2057, when transfers were increased to two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Nice work if you can get it,” Eve muttered.

“He provided her with a steady and generous income.” From behind her chair, Roarke rubbed absently at the tension in Eve’s shoulders. “Why kill him?”

“A million a year?” She glanced back at him. “That would be nothing to you.”

“Darling, it’s all something.”

“You probably blow that on shoes.”

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “If your feet aren’t happy, you aren’t happy.”

She grunted, tapped her fingers on the desk. “So what if she got greedy, got tired of hanging out for a million a year? Kill him, and do it right, and she gets it all and gets it now.”

“It’s a big risk. It goes wrong, she’s charged with murder and gets nothing but a cage for her trouble.”

“She’s calculating. She’d figure the odds. Computer, what is the value of J. Clarence Branson’s personal estate, not including any holdings in Branson Toys and Tools.”