“No evidence of it. Her bank account just had regular deposits from pensions and an annuity and distributions from her IRAs. She could have used any of those credit cards to feather her nest, but there was no sign that she did. Most of her victims wouldn’t have noticed. You saw her place. She wasn’t living in wealth.”
“None of these employees using the stolen IDs are feathering their nests with their ill-gotten identities?” Jax pointed at the ID tags.
“Not so’s I can tell. They’re just using the names to work and collect paychecks. So far, I ain’t found one of them living in anything more than poverty.”
“So, the ones using the stolen names and social security numbers are all housekeepers and janitors and the like?” Jax studied the rest of the wall. “Who’s paying their payroll taxes?”
“I’m not finding any payroll reports that match the stolen identities on the Sunshine ID tags. Sunshine’s payroll reports mostly includes management. Let’s estimate they employ a thousand lower-level people with stolen IDs who make over a thousand a month each. Not paying FICA alone would save the company nearlyten grand a monthon the employer portion. If the company is fraudulently deducting FICA from wages, and not paying the government, that’s twenty grand in their pockets—amonth. And you know they’re not providing health insurance or pension savings or any other perks. That’s practically felony theft on its own.”
Reuben pointed at another line of names and faces. “Here’s where the money goes.”
Jax studied the images. The photographs appear to have been cut from a website or financial report. All white, all ages, all in executive attire. “Management?”
Reuben grimaced. “I’m not positive those photos belong with those names, but they’re listed as the board of directors and officers of Sunshine in the handouts they give to prospective clients. There’s a host of directors and managers and whatnot under them, like Murkowski and Stanislaus that we met, but no ID tags like the regular employees. I just have their names from the FICA reports. No scrimping on taxes there. All legal and aboveboard.”
Jax studied the officers and directors. “Huh, I can see why you think Granny’s apartment is in a white folks’ home. Do they just accept white residents? Hard to get Medicare approval that way.”
“Not for me to say, but I’m staying clear. The only place I’d fit in there is as janitor, and I’m not doin’ that.” Reuben pinned a photo under Marlene’s image. “This is her son, Professor James Gump, Doctor of Philosophy at some obscure college in upstate New York. And I’m going to stick my neck out here and say—government agent. He doesn’t stay in one place long enough to really have a teaching job but shows up in scenes where the feds have a presence. The college is just a name on a resume.”
“Followed in the family footsteps, did he? Any indication where he is now?”
“Not upstate New York.” Reuben pointed to another row of names, some accompanied with pictures. “I’m going to start digging here. This is Sunshine’s upper management. Mrs. Gump was compiling dossiers, but they’re not thorough. She had next to nothing on the CEO and CFO. From what I’ve seen, those names were just made-up for marketing.”
“Do you have Ariel and Roark checking finances? And someone needs to compile lists of patients and residents who have died or departed for any reason.”
“You think they may have murdered others? For why?” Reuben grimaced as he thought about it. “Can’t imagine anyone else getting nosy the way Mrs. Gump did, but yeah, if they kill one nuisance, there might be others. Will do.”
Jax headed for the stairs. “You’re good with Loretta’s party? You didn’t sign on for the favorite uncle role.”
Reuben actually smiled. “Larraine said she’d better be on the guest list. We’re going to show those kids how to boogey.”
Jax was relieved to see the solemn nerd displaying signs of life. “And their parents. I’m thinking parents will show up to keep an eye on their darlings and for free entertainment. Evie’s family doesn’t exactly fly under the radar.”
Reuben looked a little more sober. “Unlike us.”
Jax winced. “Truth. But we’re not spooks anymore. We need to adapt better than Prof Gump unless we want to abandon our families the way he did.”
That meant Roark, too. He was healing. How long would he be willing to stay out of trouble with Ariel? If past experience was an example, the Cajun was building up an impressive amount of steam that needed an outlet before he exploded.
Sixteen
Evie climbedoff the Harley in front of the Azalea Retirement Apartments, removed her helmet, and ran her hand through her hair. “We can’t exactly sneak up on these wheels, can we?”
“Or with a Miata.” Jax hooked the helmets to the bike. “I could help you find a junker and soup it up.”
“Really? You work on cars?” She slipped her hand around his hunky biceps as they strolled up the walk. “You are a man of many surprises.”
“Perhaps a legacy of my engineering father. He used to work on an old Camaro.” He opened the door into the air-conditioned lobby. “Does Stacey know we’re coming?”
“Yup. She’s expecting a long, lawyerly talk. I’ll do my thing while you keep her distracted.” As they signed the guest book, Evie noticed a faded aura blending into the wallpaper that was definitely not Granny. She didn’t dare tune out while everyone at the desk watched.
But when they reached the elevator wall, she tugged Jax’s arm. “Wait a sec.” She took a seat on a bench and bent over to rummage in her tote.
The aura hovered anxiously.Anxiousseemed to be the spirit’s key color. Hoping no one noticed a woman digging in her purse, Evie opened her extra perception.
Female, she was fairly certain. An older spirit, no longer bothering to cling to worldly elements like body or clothes—just pure energy. “How may I help you?” she asked while pretending to examine the contents of her bag.
The energy seemed tentative and uncertain. That wasn’t unusual. Spirit energy normally withered down to a core focus, something left undone or unsaid or unsolved, in Evie’s experience. But this one seemed to understand that Evie might see her. “Did Marlene send you?”