Because it wasn’t not tasty, she couldn’t formulate a reasonable argument. “Anyway, if you’re doing what you’re doing for the result, for the benefits, with no real lust or skill or basic appreciation for what generates the benefits, you’re going to look for ways to do less of what generates while pumping up the benefits.”
“Passing the work off to others, and/or cheating.”
“Others built something, figured it out, had to be good at it, and you’re plopped into the big leather chair and expected to keep it all going, and add to it. Maybe that’s privilege, sure, but that’s also pressure.”
“Remind me of that when we have children. It’s important to give them enough for a foundation, and not enough they can do nothing.”
She sure as hell wasn’t going to think about that now.
“On the other end of that, Alva Moonie’s family appears to have instilled work ethic and responsibility. So after her wild phase, she likes what she does and wants to do it well. It’s not money that corrupts, necessarily. It’s—”
“Greed. Once again.”
“I figure.” She ate in silence a moment, considering. “That covers them all, except—possibly—Pope. He’s either the mouse he appears or he’s really good at pretending to be one. We need to look for private accounts, hidden accounts and property. These types are bound to have some.”
“I’ve already started a search on that, but now that you’ve narrowed in, I’ll do the same and focus more keenly on the top of your list.”
She nodded, pleased she’d finished the stir-fry and could now reach for a slice. “You know how to think like a cop.” At his silent rebuke, she smiled. “To avoid and outwit cops, if we’re sticking with roots. And you’ve served as expert consultant, civilian, plenty. You’re also the biggest of the business big shots. You know how to think in business, in big-shot style. I can get a feel for it, apply it to the case, but my POV on running a company is largely colored by what I see you do, and that’s not what I’m seeing here. At least in my limited view.”
“You’ve investigated and closed countless cases that fall into areas you’re not familiar with.”
“Absolutely. But I don’t always have the most expert of expert consultants eating a slice of my pizza.”
“Who said it was all yours?” He toasted her with it, took a bite. “That would fall into the category of greed, and gluttony.”
“Smart-ass. Anyway, I keep going over the board, my notes, the tones, the shades, and I feel like I’m missing something. Some, I don’t know, nuance that would narrow it down. You’ll find the motive in the files, in the numbers and the books and the tax codes and all that bullshit. But you’re going to find, I’m betting, plenty of little slick deals and shoving through loopholes that aren’t quite big enough and require greased palms. Like that.”
“I have already, a bit here and there. Not enough, to my way of thinking, to justify murder or panic. Some adjustments, some penalties and interest, a fine or two—and some of those would be forgiven with a smart tax or corporate attorney making a case for misinterpretation or clerical error.”
“Harder for me to judge that part. Even if I could find it. You asked me before who was I leaning toward. I’m going to ask you the same thing.”
He shook his head, sat back with his wine. “I’m not a cop, not a trained investigator. Moreover, I haven’t spoken with any of your suspects, and am far from finished analyzing the financial data.”
She peeled off a piece of pepperoni, popped it in her mouth. “You’ve got a gut, same as me. You know business, business leaders the way I never will. You understand that world because you live in it. I’m just asking if you were me, which one would you give the hardest look?”
It surprised him how much he wanted to backpedal. He was used to watching her pick her way through the people, the evidence, the timing, the reasons, used to enjoying the way her mind and instincts played together on her hunt.
“And if I’m wrong? If I lead you in the wrong direction?”
“Direction’s what I want, right or wrong. It’s up to me to figure out what to do, how to do it. And up to me to take the direction or not. You’re the expert here. I’m consulting you. I want your opinion.”
“All right then. Sterling Alexander.”
“Why?”
“Start with elimination.” He rose, and as she so often did, circled her board. “Young-Sachs. Use your deadly sins here as a springboard. He’s got more sloth than greed or lust. He’d prefer to do nothing at all, and has an admin who knows more than he does about his company. That’s laziness and carelessness. No one should know more than you do about your own. And if he wanted more, he’d just ask his mother. He’s got no reason to cheat or steal, and hasn’t enough ambition to do either. And he’s just not smart enough.”
“I liked him.”
“Did you?”
“I mean I liked him for it because I didn’t like him otherwise. And that’s been part of the problem. They all gave me a buzz, one way or the other.”
“Very possibly you get a buzz because
your instincts tell you none of them are thoroughly clean. They’ve all got pockets where they tuck some dirty little secrets.”
“Maybe. Young-Sachs flaunting his illegals use and his complete lack of competence as CFO. He’s using the company to get access to illegals. I know it. Then there’s Biden going out of his way to insult and offend, and I’m betting finding ways, maybe just little ones now, to dip into the till. And Pope so damn accommodating, so willing to take his half brother’s disdain. But what you’re saying makes sense.”