Huh, family operation from the sounds of it. Evie slipped back to the counter and pretended to peruse a pamphlet.
The clerk returned and kept a bland face. “He says go back, but he doesn’t have any positions available.”
All she really wanted was to see J.P. Peterson, Home Health Care president, Sunshine director, and according to Reuben’s research, ex-con embezzler. If his aura was as black as Bibb’s, she’d at least have established a pattern.
Apparently Mr. Peterson, unlike many of Sunshine’s directors, had served his time and was now a responsible citizen—he’d kept his real name. But if he was working for crooks... he was probably employing his old tricks somehow. Hard to find honest jobs with his record.
J.P. Peterson did not stand when she entered and not because he was a young, woke feminist. Bad etiquette placed him in the category ofnot a Southern gentleman. Balding blond hair, weak chin, rounded shoulders, he bent over his laptop like any good Scrooge counting his coins. A keyboard and large monitor occupying half the desk gave new meaning to the cliché of keeping two sets of books.
“May I help you?” he asked with the same impatience he’d used on the clerk. His daughter?
She really hadn’t planned this far. She worked best with improv. Mostly, she needed a few minutes to go ditzy and examine his aura. That required distraction. Pity she didn’t have Gracie here to levitate that soft drink can—
“Mrs. Stanislaus said you were interested in a bitcoin account.” Evie set her folder of useless resumes on the desk at just the right angle to topple an overfull pen holder. The holder was too lightweight to knock over the soft drink can, but it spilled pens and pencils. “Woops, sorry about that.”
They both grabbed for the toppled utensils. Evie scooped up a flash drive and hid it in her fist as she returned pens to the container. Peterson grabbed for an escaping Mont Blanc and knocked the soda can over all on his own.Blessed be.
While he cursed and frantically sopped up the sticky nastiness with Kleenex, Evie opened her inner eye.
He was as muddy with lies and guilt as Ursula, the HR director. Murky forest green in his heart chakra indicated a load of resentment and low self-esteem. Dark blue lurked in the throat region—fear of the truth, interesting. Peterson was a toady for someone pretty powerful. That didn’t make him a killer.
Evie produced wipes from her purse and helped clean up the gummy residue. “Good thing it didn’t fall on your keyboard,” she said cheerfully.
He muttered an obscenity and immediately examined his keyboard—while Evie studied his computer monitor. A spreadsheet with great big numbers involving many zeroes. Cleaning the keyboard abruptly shrank the spreadsheet window to reveal half a dozen other open windows—all bank accounts at different banks. Yeah, definitely a Scrooge, a frightened one.
Evie stood. “I can see you’re busy, sir. Why don’t I just leave my card and you can call me when you have time.” She removed a card from her purse with her fake name and a burner number. She was learning technology from the best.
On the way out, she waved gaily at the sullen clerk. The stolen thumb drive burned a hole in her pocket. She wanted to take it straight back to Reuben, but as long as she was here...
She didn’t dare take the direct approach at her next stop, in case Peterson started calling around, asking questions.
She drove to Sunshine’s assisted living facility where she told the clerk her mother had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and asked about the facilities.
Their office sent out a chirpy salesperson to show her around. Evie had memorized a list of technical questions that chirpy couldn’t answer. Eventually, she caved and took Evie back to an office.
The desk chair was empty but a plaque readKurt Calder, VP of Patient Relations. Recalling Reuben’s investigations, Evie knew him as Sam Reilly, ex-con counterfeiter with a host of outstanding fraud warrants. She’d find a new ID if she were him, too—and counterfeiting IDs and credentials for his co-workers would be right up his alley.
She had time to wonder about the master mind who had brought these criminals together under one respectable-looking umbrella.
Calder/Reilly entered with a hearty smile, a tanning-bed bronze, and five o’clock shadow. “Miss Rose, my assistant said you have some questions.”
“About a million.” Evie offered a watery smile. “I never thought I’d be putting my mom in a home.” That was also a lie. She’d thought about it often, with great glee. Mavis had days when Evie feared she needed to be locked up for her own good. But her mother would only lead the patients in a revolution and bust out.
Evie encouraged Calder/Reilly to spread out all his books and pamphlets and laptop videos. While he yapped, she tuned in to his aura.
Like all his partners, he was murky with guilt. No surprise there. He did seem to have a shred of compassion—a family he protected maybe? Jealousy and an ugly line of narcissism marred any softer colors. And a murderous red lurked near his heart. She tried not to judge, but she didn’t want to know him better.
Just what had she accomplished? Calder left no flash drives on his desk. He wouldn’t leave her alone to question any of his employees. She couldn’t tour the facility stumbling about with her eye open to auras.
She needed to work there. That wouldn’t be easy if all hires came through Ursula. She needed more experience at being an intrepid sleuth willing to don a disguise and do stupid things.
A tour through carefully chosen rooms and a nearly empty rec room gave her little opportunity to question anyone. If she were any good at planning, she’d have arranged for someone to call Calder and drag him away.
She did note the names on employee badges and patient doors. The names didn’t ring any bells, but one never knew what would be useful.
They returned to the patient services office where, frustrated, Evie was about to say she’d have to bring her mother in for a visit, when Calder received a message that called him away.
Yay, Universe!