* * * *
After Nic dropped her off at the hotel, Cayce ordered room service and grabbed a new notebook from her stash. Some people used their phones for reminders. She liked paper lists.
As Matthew had promised, the laptop contained records of current employees, purchases, and sales for the last twenty years. Reviewing the statements, she quickly determined that he’d been losing money for years. The sample records he’d provided prior to the sale hadn’t told the full story. Now she needed to build her business plan using the facts. Cayce started making lists.
Room service arrived right as she was getting ready to unwrap the candy bar on her desk. The smell of the holy trinity—onion, green pepper, and celery in the shrimp jambalaya—made her stomach growl. She poured herself a cup of half cocoa and half coffee and went back to her desk.
An hour later, the food was gone, the pots were empty, and Cayce had pages of questions with no answers. Like, why had Sarah been paid three times more in base salary than any other sales clerk, especially since her actual commissions were few and far between? And who was this Arnold Barnett who had an even larger salary? No wonder Matthew hadn’t been making money. He was drowning in employee costs. Even the most senior salesman back in Seattle hadn’t made half what these people did. She would need to do more research on wages in this area before she put out any help wanted ads.
She put the cup back on the tray and got ready for bed. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry.
* * * *
The next morning, Cayce went to the lobby for a local newspaper. Spreading the paper out on the bed, she focused on the ads in the back. From what she could tell, salaries here were in line with what she’d expect to pay in a big city. Cheaper than Seattle, but not what Matthew had been shelling out. She folded the paper and put it into her tote. Time to get to work!
This time, the shop’s door was locked when she arrived. Sarah had been told to stay home. Cayce pushed the door open and re-locked it, noticing the same homeless man standing across the street, watching her. With a friendly wave, she made her way back to the office with the Queen Anne desk. Working in Mr. Goldstein’s office was impossible—the lingering smell from the blood-soaked rug turned her stomach. First project, inventory. She printed off the list she’d been given and found a clipboard in the desk. Then she went to the top floor of the building. She wanted to check out the apartment before she dug into inventory work.
By noon, she’d cleared only one floor. She’d spent longer in the apartment than she’d expected. The inventory was proving to be a problem. Several items that were listed as being on a particular floor were missing. Probably just moved, but where? She had no clue. Understanding the inventory was going to take longer than she’d planned.
Stopping at the break room, she grabbed a bottle of water. A noise from the hallway startled her. She held the bottle out like a weapon and made her way to her office. Nic sat at her desk, eating a sandwich and playing on his phone. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. “How did you get in?”
“You left the door open.” He nodded to the Styrofoam container. “Eat. I brought you lunch.”
“I didn’t leave the door unlocked.” She glanced down the hallway and heard laughter. “What’s going on here? Harry?”
“I believe the building spirits are teasing you.” Nic lifted his head listened for an answer from the unseen inhabitants. “Apparently, they unlocked the door to let me inside.”
Cayce narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you didn’t take Sarah’s keys?”
Nic took a set of keys out of his pocket and slid them across the desk. “Sleight of hand is a family tradition.”
She examined the lunch. Ham and cheese croissant and a small container of potato salad along with a bag of chips. Her stomach growled. When she had wolfed most of it down, she leaned back and asked, “Really, why are you here?”
“I’ve been doing some checking around about your business. Goldstein was circling the bankruptcy drain. Email your lawyer and have him get you out of the deal since the guy died before the three-day waiting period was over.”
“I don’t want out of the deal. I studied the books last night and from what I’ve seen, the financial crisis is solvable. The sales are here. His expenses were just too high.” She opened the bag of chips.
“Like what?” He threw his lunch into a plastic trash bag. “It couldn’t be from the cleaning staff.”
“Let’s just say Mr. Goldstein’s employees must have loved working here.” She grabbed the notebook from her bag. “Do you know an Arnold Barnett?”
“No, should I?” He put his empty lunch container in a plastic bag.
“Just wondering. I’m going over to his place now. Since Matthew didn’t tell anyone about the sale, I feel like I should reach out to his employees. Especially ones that meant so much that Goldstein overpaid them.” Cayce opened the notebook where she’d noted Arnold Barnett’s address. “It’s just down the street. According to the schedule, he works weekends. I need to tell him he’s unemployed.”
“Mind if I tag along?” He swept her lunch receptacle into the trash sack. “Dumpster in the back?”
After showing Nic the dumpster in the alley, they walked two blocks farther into the French Quarter, then turned left down a one-way street. Nic leaned close and glanced behind them, whispering, “We’re being followed.”
“I know. It’s the homeless guy who sleeps outside the shop. He’s been following us since we left.” Cayce didn’t turn back since she could see the guy’s reflection in the window of the restaurant as they walked past. “I think he’s harmless.”
“I’ll tell the police that when they’re investigating your murder in that rat trap of a building.” Nic pointed to an iron gate. “This is the address.”
They stepped into an entryway that led to an interior courtyard where a fountain bubbled over a moss-covered statue. Sarah Stiner sat crying near the fountain. When she heard their footsteps, she stood and hurried past them without a word.
“Hey, Sarah. What are you doing here?” Cayce started to go after her but stopped at the entry. Then she came back to the bottom of the stairs. “I seem to have this effect on people.”
Nic nodded to the stairwell. “One problem at a time. Let’s see why she was here.”
They climbed the narrow stairway and went down the walk to the door marked 201. When she knocked, the door was thrown open revealing a small living room furnished in priceless antiques. Cayce stared at a lion bust and the polished foyer table it sat on. She glanced around the room ticking items off her inventory list.
“Sarah, I told you to leave me alone. It’s not my fault you didn’t take care of your own future.” A small man in a Nike T-shirt with a gray scruff of beard finally looked up from his phone. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were—”
“I saw Sarah in the foyer. Why was she here?” The more he said before he realized who she was, the better.
Arnold Barnett ran a hand through his thinning hair. “She’s upset about what happened to our boss. I can’t blame her. We worked together for over five years. We’re more than just co-workers.”
“Are you lovers?” Nic leaned against the doorway, looking way more casual than Cayce knew he felt.
“What? No! We were all friends.” He paused. “I guess it doesn’t matter now, but Sarah was in love with the boss. It was hard to watch, her being so head-over-heels and him, totally oblivious.”
“So they weren’t a couple? It was all one-sided?” Cayce watched the man’s face for reactions.
“Who knows? I don’t pry into people’s business.” He glanced back into the small living room. “Look, I’m job hunting, so unless you’re here to tell me I’m one of the ones you’re keeping on, I need to end this conversation.”
“Glad you know who I am. It makes things faster.” Cayce leaned to the left, trying to see more of the apartment. The rumor mill had been working hard if she was already recognized as the new owner of Goldstein?
?s Antiques. “One question before I deliver the bad news. I’ve been going through the accounting. Can you tell me why you were being paid twice the salary that’s normal for your position?”
A smile curved Arnold’s lips. “You are into the details, aren’t you?”
When Cayce didn’t respond, Arnold shrugged. “What can I say, Matthew was generous to a fault. And I’m really, really good at what I do.”
Exasperated, Cayce knew she wouldn’t get any more out of him. She needed to call Detective Charles and get her property back. She turned to Nic. “Let’s go. There’s nothing here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arnold curled his fist.
Nic stepped in between Cayce and Arnold. “I don’t think you want to do that.”
Cayce could almost see the wheels moving in Arnold’s head before he dropped his arm and uncurled his fingers. He grabbed the door. “Just leave. There’s nothing more I want to say to you.”
As they made their way out to the street, neither Cayce nor Nic spoke until they had turned the corner. “He’s hiding something,” Nic mumbled.