CHAPTER ONE
“What literary masterpiece are you writing?”
Ashley pounced on the cup of coffee her friend and fellow journalist, Bonnie, left on her desk. She sipped the heavenly brew and waved her hand toward her computer. “What do you think?”
“Wow. “20 New York Socialites You Need to Know.” You must have spent all day planning that column.”
“I know it’s not ground-breaking journalism, but a lot of people will enjoy reading it.”
Bonnie grinned. “You don’t have to convince me. I believe you. I’m surprised you could narrow the list down to 20.”
“This is New York. Anything is possible.” Ashley peered over the partition separating her cubicle from the next.
“Harry’s gone home. He told me he’s got a social life, unlike the reporters he works with.”
Ashley choked on her drink. “And you believed him?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“It’s Thursday night.”
“And?”
“There’s a Twilight Zone marathon on TV.” She tilted her head to the side, waiting for Bonnie to remember the only thing Harry had talked about all week. “You can’t have forgotten that quickly.”
“I have a short-term memory when it comes to Harry.”
The blush on Bonnie’s cheeks told Ashley a different story. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve got something else to tell you.”
Bonnie’s eyes widened. “You were employed by the catering company?”
“It was the only way I could get into Jasmine Alfredo’s dinner party.”
“No one knew you were working undercover?”
Ashley shook her head.
“That’s so exciting. Did you take any photos?”
With one click of her mouse, Ashley opened a folder she’d saved on her desktop. “Harry worked his magic on some of the images before he went home.”
Bonnie pulled her chair closer. Her eyes widened when she saw the photos. “Why are you writing about socialites when you’ve got the story of the year sitting in front of you?”
“The story of the year still needs some work. I’m not telling anyone that Jasmine Alfredo could be defrauding her nonprofit charity until I’ve got more proof. Otherwise, her lawyers will come down like a ton of bricks on our esteemed leader’s head.”
“Spelling the end to your illustrious journalistic career.”
“Exactly. The Daily Times needs reporters like us, even if I am writing for the society pages.”
“This isn’t your forever job. It’s a stepping stone to greater things.”
“Where have I heard that before?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Bonnie said with a smile. “You could have said the same thing a hundred times. And on that bright note, it’s time for me to go home. Are you coming?”
Ashley glanced at her watch. “You go. I want to finish my story on the socialites.”
“They’ll wait until the morning.”
“I wish.” Ashley sighed as she reopened the file. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Bonnie pulled out her bag from under her desk. “Okay. I’ll tell security you’re still here. Don’t stay too late.”
“Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome. Bye.”
After Bonnie left, Ashley kept typing. Most of the socialites were the wives, children, or grandchildren of billionaires. Even though they had the pick of what they could do with their lives, they somehow seemed lost. Making a career out of attending luncheons, galas, and concerts wasn’t her idea of fun, but what she thought didn’t matter.
She found stock photos of each person and added them to the article. If she was totally honest with herself, the photos were more interesting than her text. As long as her editor didn’t think the same thing she’d be okay.
Before she went home, Ashley checked her emails. Harry had been busy. He’d sent through more photos from last weekend’s dinner party. She flicked through the images. They weren’t bad considering the camera she’d used had been hidden in her necklace.
She stopped at a picture of Jasmine Alfredo. With her jet-black hair coiled on top of her head and a scarlet dress draped across her body, she was stunning. But it wasn’t Jasmine who made Ashley frown.
A man wearing a navy pinstripe suit stood on one side of the picture, almost lost in the cropped image.
Ashley went back to the other photos. He wasn’t there. She opened another file, this time from Jasmine’s charity gala for The Reaching High Foundation, another nonprofit she managed. The same man was there. She’d seen his face before, but where?
If anyone knew who he was, it would be Harry. She picked up her phone and called him.
He answered after the second ring. “You didn’t give me much to work with, so no grumbling about the quality.”
Ashley smiled. “I thought you’d be watching The Twilight Zone.”
“I am, but you’re lucky. An ad break has started. What do you need?”
“One of the photos you sent through has a man almost cropped out of the image. Can you send me the original and tell me who he is?”
She heard Harry moving across his apartment.
“Shouldn’t you be home by now?” he asked.
“I’m leaving soon.”
Harry laughed. “That’s what you always say…Okay…I’m at my computer. What photo are you talking about?”
“The one with Jasmine standing on her own. She’s holding a glass of wine.”
“Got it. I’m sending through the original now.”
Ashley reopened her email account and waited for Harry’s photo to arrive. “What season are you up to in The Twilight Zone?”
“Two. I’m sending you the rest of the images I downloaded off the camera. I haven’t retouched them yet, but it will give you an idea of what it takes to make them brilliant.”
“You’re just showing off.” She clicked on the first email Harry sent through and studied the man. “I still don’t know who he is.”
“Have you been living under a rock for the last six months?”
“Come on, Harry. Don’t hold out on me. You’re going to miss some of your TV show.”
“The Twilight Zone is not a TV show. It’s a cult classic.”
“So is The Princess Bride and The Rocky Horror Picture Show, but you’re not watching them.”
She could imagine Harry shuddering. The thought of his beloved television series being compared to a movie about a princess would be too much. “Your small town background is showing. The man in the picture is Gareth Welsh.”
“Congressman Gareth Welsh?”
“The one and the same. He’s the poster boy for social reform. Wait a minute.”
Ashley heard Harry typing on his keyboard.
“He’s also one of the board members for The Reaching High Foundation, the nonprofit charity Jasmine started.”
“Maybe that’s why he was at her dinner party.”
“Probably. Check the other photos I sent through and call me tomorrow. Ad break is over.”
Before Ashley could thank Harry, he was gone.
She opened the other files and peered at the photos. Over the space of three hours, she’d photographed most of the people at the dinner party. All she had to do now was figure out who they were, how much money Jasmine had stolen from her nonprofit, and why she’d done it.
Her cell phone beeped and she read the text.
“GO HOME!!”
She smiled as she typed a reply to Bonnie. The best thing about her job was that she could do it from anywhere. In no time at all, she’d emailed Harry’s photos to her personal account and shut down her computer. With a little research, she should be able to identify most of the people at the dinner party. Then, if everything went to plan, she would be ready for phase two of her story.
***
Matthew parked his truck as close to the Gallatin County Fairground as he could manage. Each summer, people from all over Montana came to enjoy seven days of horse and livestock shows, markets, exhibitions, and the sunshine. This year, he’d driven to the fair with Sean, his twin brother, and Catherine, their seven-year-old niece.
“Can we buy some cotton candy, Uncle Matthew?”
He looked over his shoulder as Catherine undid her seatbelt. “Sure. Just don’t tell your mom.”
A cheeky grin lit her face. “Dad says the same thing.”
Sean laughed. “If your mom discovers the secrets we’re not supposed to tell her, we’ll all be in trouble.”
Matthew knew for a fact that Amy, their sister-in-law, knew almost everything there was to know about the Gray family. It was just as well she chose to ignore most of it.
“Oh, wow!” Catherine jumped out of the truck and grabbed Sean’s hand. “Look at the Ferris wheel. We gotta go, Uncle Sean.”
Matthew pushed his hat to the back of his head and stared at the huge wheel. “That’s a mighty impressive piece of machinery.”
“It’s a death trap,” Sean grumbled.
Catherine pulled Sean’s hand. “Come on, let’s go together. It will be fun.”
Sean turned a delicate shade of green. “Uncle Matthew wants to take you on the Ferris wheel.”
“Don’t mind if I do, little lady. Where is your sun hat?”
Catherine rushed back to the truck. “Here it is.” She pulled on her hat and handed Matthew a small bag. “Mom gave me this, too. There’s sunscreen inside. She said I have to use it or I’ll end up all wrinkly like you.”
Sean laughed. “Your mom is a wise woman.”
“She’s a doctor,” Catherine said proudly. “Dad says she’s smart as well as beautiful.”
Matthew squirted sunscreen onto his hands. “We’d better do what she says or she won’t let us take you to the fair again.”
Catherine scrunched up her face as he rubbed the lotion into her skin. “Can we go now?”
He tweaked the front of her hat. “I don’t see why not. Did Uncle Sean print off the timetable of what’s happening today?”
Sean’s eyebrows rose. “Of course, I did. One of us has to be organized.” He pulled three copies out of his back pocket and gave one to Matthew and another to Catherine. “The barrel racing starts in thirty minutes. You should have time to go on the Ferris wheel first, depending on how many people are waiting for a ride.”
Matthew walked toward the main gates, holding Catherine’s hand and trying to read the timetable.
“Watch out for the dog,” Catherine squealed as he nearly stepped on the smallest excuse for a four-legged canine he’d ever seen.
“Thanks for the warning, short stuff.”
“You’re welcome. Are you sure you don’t want Uncle Sean to be in charge of the map? He doesn’t get lost.”
Matthew knelt down and smiled into his niece’s upturned face. “Sometimes when you’re lost, you end up in a better place than where you thought you’d be.”
“Not in the supermarket parking lot, you don’t. Dad melted a huge tub of ice cream when he couldn’t find our truck.”
“You’re safe with me,” Sean whispered. “Uncle Matthew and your dad share the same type of challenges.”
“Yeah,” Matthew laughed. “And our biggest challenge is called Sean.”
“Very funny,” his brother muttered. “It won’t be so funny when you can’t find the barrel racing.”
“Or the line for the Ferris wheel,” Catherine added.
Matthew nodded at the solemn expression on his niece’s face. “We’d better hurry up. If we don’t, Uncle Sean won’t be happy.”
Sean handed Matthew his ticket. “Just remember, if you get lost you’ll miss out on cotton candy.”
Catherine gripped Matthew’s hand tighter. “Don’t worry. I’ll look after you.”
He looked down into her trusting eyes and smiled. That was the nicest thing anyone had said to him in a long time.
***
Ashley looked over her shoulder, frowning at the people walking along the sidewalk. For the last week, she’d been worried that someone was following her. She was turning into a paranoid reporter, jumping like a scared rabbit whenever anyone bumped into her.
After speaking to Harry yesterday, she was even more worried. She’d stayed awake for most of the night, going over her notes, searching the Internet for any connection between Jasmine Alfredo and Congressman Welsh.
She glanced at her watch. She’d called Harry on the way to work, hoping he hadn’t left for the day. Something was going on, and it was bigger than anything she’d ever investigated. She pushed the buzzer for Harry’s apartment and watched yellow taxis zoom past his building.
“Come on up,” he yelled over the intercom.
The front door of the red-brick building clicked open, and she ran inside. One of the loveliest features of the building was the wrought iron staircase she was climbing. But the special features didn’t end there. Harry’s apartment was huge compared to hers. It had floor-to-ceiling windows, a gourmet kitchen, and every modern piece of technology money could buy.
She’d met Harry not long after she started working at The Daily Times. As well as being the best contract photographer the newspaper employed, Harry regularly exhibited his work in art galleries. He’d won prestigious awards and had a reputation that gave him access to New York’s glitterati. He was living his dream—unlike Ashley.
She knocked on his apartment door and waited.
When the door opened, a yawning Harry stood in front of her. His mop of blond hair stuck out at odd angles, and there was still stubble on his face. “Have you just fallen out of bed?”
“I had a busy night.”
“It looks like it. How was your Twilight Zone marathon?”
He rubbed his eyes and headed toward the kitchen. “What’s another word for totally awesome?”
Ashley smiled. “I get the idea. Do you want to go over the photos for my story now or later?”
He glanced at his watch and groaned. “Better do it now. I have to leave in an hour and I’ll be gone for most of the day. Don’t tell me you worked on your story all night.”
“You know me—if something bugs me I keep going until I’ve found an answer.”
“What was bugging you?”
She sat on a kitchen stool. “I’ve got one ultra-wealthy widow who is the darling of the social circuit, a nonprofit charity that receives a lot of money, and a bank account that doesn’t make sense.”
Harry dropped two slices of bread into the toaster. “I hope it’s the wealthy widow’s bank account that doesn’t make sense and not yours.”
“You’re just worried that one day I’m going to come and live with you.”
He snorted. “You forgot about the security camera over my front door. At the first sign of a woman carrying anything larger than a folder, a solid steel door drops in front of her.”
Ashley waved her folder in the air. “Your bachelor status is not under threat, but I’ve got a feeling Jasmine Alfredo might be.”
“What do you mean?”
“She doesn’t need to defraud anything. Her charities have all got plenty of money, except The Reaching High Foundation. It’s the largest nonprofit she manages. They haven’t done half the projects they were supposed to, but they’ve spent the federal grant money they received.”
Harry buttered a piece of toast and held it toward her.
“No, thanks. I’ve already eaten.” She opened her folder. “If you don’t spend the grant money on the services or products the government is funding, you’re supposed to pay it back. The Reaching High Foundation can’t afford to repay any money.”
Harry wiped his hands on his jeans and looked through Ashley’s folder. “If the funding didn’t go to the projects it was supposed to, where has it gone?”
“That’s what I tried to find out. Not all nonprofits have to complete an independent audit. But this one should have. Last year, they received three federal grants worth between two- and three-hundred thousand dollars each.”
“And the money’s disappeared?”
“Most of it.”
“I hope you didn’t do anything illegal to figure that out?”
“Not really.”
“Don’t tell me what you did. I’ll only get stressed.” Harry frowned as he read the notes she’d made. “How do the photos from the dinner party tie in with the grants?”
“The people invited to the dinner party are all involved in Jasmine’s nonprofit charities. She wanted to thank them for their support. I looked for their profiles on the Internet, but a lot of them are camera shy. I’m hoping you and Bonnie can tell me their names.”
Harry turned to the first sheet of photos. “That’s Jason Le Blanc. He manages an art auction house called Taylor and Mitchell.”
Ashley wrote his name under the photo.
He pointed to another image. “Stephanie Malcolm, Chief Financial Strategist for Duncan and Malcolm. Her father owns the company.” Harry turned to the next page. “James Gardiner, big whiz in the telecommunications industry.”
“How do you know these people?”
“I’ve been working in New York for ten years. You see a lot of faces in that time. That’s Marty Williams—great guy—owns a yacht in the Bahamas. I can’t believe he’d be involved in anything illegal.”
Ashley added Marty’s name to his photo. “I don’t know which charities each of these people support, but I’m going to find out.”
Harry told her the names of another four people. “Are you sure you want to investigate Jasmine’s nonprofit charities?”
“She needs to be held accountable for the money the charities have received.”
“Apart from Jasmine, the people in this folder are some of the wealthiest and influential in New York. If you annoy them, your career could be over.”
Ashley closed the folder. “I know. That’s why I’m being careful.”
“Define careful.”
“You and Bonnie are the only people who know what I’m doing.”
“And?”
“And nothing. That’s it.”
Harry shook his head. “It’s not enough. Some of these people have bodyguards. You were lucky to get away with taking the photos at Jasmine’s party.”
“No one knew what I was doing.”
“Are you sure?”
Ashley bit her bottom lip. “No one said anything.”
Harry crossed his arms. “You’re living in New York, not Bozeman. If you make false accusations about these people, you’ll be run out of town. They’re not going to let a reporter from The Daily Times ruin their lives.”
“Someone needs to investigate what’s happening.”
“All I’m saying is to be careful. Keep backups of everything on a cloud storage system. Don’t let your laptop out of your sight and be careful with your emails. Have you been working on this from home?”
Ashley nodded. “And work.”
Harry rubbed his forehead. “As soon as you arrive at your desk, remove anything to do with Jasmine’s story. Send it to a cloud account. I’ll delete the photos off my computer.”
She closed the folder and slipped it into her bag. “I’ll be more careful.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
It was just as well Harry didn’t know about the early breakfast she’d had at Jasmine’s favorite café.
“If something doesn’t feel right, call me straight away.”
“I will.” She gave Harry a quick hug before leaving. “Good luck with the job you’re doing today.”
“Thanks. Remember to be careful.”
Ashley ran down the stairs and out of the building. She needed to get to her desk as fast as possible. What Harry didn’t know was that Jasmine Alfredo hadn’t eaten breakfast on her own this morning. Congressman Welsh had been with her, and from what Ashley had seen, Jasmine didn’t seem happy.
Being careful could wait until tomorrow. Right now, she had a lot of missing money to find.
***
Ashley met Bonnie after work for dinner. In-between working on her next column and finding stories to add to the newspaper, she’d moved all of her files about Jasmine onto another drive. It had taken longer than she thought, but hopefully, it would make it harder for anyone to find the information.
Bonnie pushed her bowl of fries away. “You can’t be serious? Congressman Welsh wouldn’t become involved in anything illegal.”
“It cost more than a million dollars to run his mayoral campaign. He had to find that money from somewhere.”
“That doesn’t mean Jasmine used money from her nonprofit charity to pay for his campaign.”
The door to the diner opened and a group of teenagers walked inside.
“She wasn’t very happy this morning,” Ashley whispered. “What if the congressman took the money from The Foundation’s budget? The accounts have never been audited. Jasmine wouldn’t know until it was too late to do anything about it.”
Bonnie dropped her head into her hands. “Do you know how crazy you sound? Not only are you accusing a congressman of fraud, but you’re telling me that Jasmine is an accomplice.”
“I’ve got proof.”
Bonnie’s eyes widened. She slowly scanned the people sitting close to them. “I’ve watched enough episodes of CSI to know this isn’t a safe place to talk. Let’s go.”
Ashley grabbed her bag. “Where are we going?”
Bonnie pulled Ashley onto the street. “We’re going to your apartment. If we’re mugged or shot on our way there, I’m blaming you.”
“Nothing will happen.”
“I hope for your sake you’re right.” She stuck out her hand and hailed a cab. “What did Harry tell you when you saw him this morning?”
“To be careful.”
Bonnie’s eyebrows rose. “And you consider listening to a conversation between Jasmine Alfredo and Congressman Welsh, being careful?”
“That happened before I saw Harry. And I wasn’t listening—I wasn’t close enough to hear everything. All I heard was the occasional word.”
“It’s called stalking,” Bonnie whispered. “You shouldn’t have been at the café this morning. What if Jasmine or Congressman Welsh recognized you?”
Ashley didn’t tell her about the weird feeling she’d had all week—it would only freak her out. They climbed into a cab and she gave the driver her address.
On the way to her apartment, Bonnie didn’t say anything. Every time Ashley started to speak, Bonnie held her hand in the air. It wasn’t until they were standing outside her apartment building that her friend broke her silence.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“You said yourself that this could be the story of the year. This is why I became a reporter.”
“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘Be careful what you wish for?’”
Ashley opened her apartment building’s front door. “Once or twice.”
“Take more notice next time.”
They stepped into the foyer and Mrs. Moretti, Ashley’s well-meaning, eccentric, neighbor, opened her apartment door.
She waved her hand at them, beckoning them forward. “You need to come with me,” she whispered.
Ashley was used to Mrs. Moretti’s dramatic personality, but Bonnie wasn’t.
“What’s happened?” Bonnie asked in an equally low whisper.
“There was a man. He was tall…” Mrs. Moretti held her hand above her head. “He came looking for Ashley. He had…how do you say?…a roughness to his person. Like the men in Sicily who do no good.”
Bonnie swayed.
Ashley grabbed her arm and pulled her into Mrs. Moretti’s apartment.
“To the living room,” Mrs. Moretti instructed. “Shoo my kitty cats. Make way for Ashley’s friend.”
Three elderly cats moved with surprising speed out of the room.
“Over here,” Mrs. Moretti said as she rushed to an overstuffed sofa. She opened an orange and pink crochet blanket and wrapped it around Bonnie’s shoulders. “You are in shock—this will make you feel better. I will make a cup of tea.”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Moretti. Bonnie will be fine—she’s had a big day, that’s all.”
“You and your big days. A little tea never hurt anyone. You wait here. I have cake, too.”
Bonnie had a dazed look in her eyes as she absorbed the colorful chaos of Mrs. Moretti’s living room. “Am I still in New York?”
“I don’t know. If Harry were here, he’d say we’ve just entered The Twilight Zone.”
Bonnie took a deep breath and pushed the blanket off her shoulders. “Who do you think was looking for you?”
“It could have been anyone.” Ashley tried not to let Bonnie know how worried she was. Harry’s words kept repeating inside her head, telling her she should have been more careful. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Ashley found Mrs. Moretti in the kitchen, adding boiling water to her teapot. “Mrs. Moretti, could you tell me what happened to the man who was looking for me?”
“Mr. Stokes told him to leave the building or he would call the police.”
Ashley was confused. “How did Mr. Stokes know the man was in the building?” Mr. Stokes’ apartment was on the floor above hers.
“He was about to go on his evening walk. The strange man was hovering by your door. Mr. Stokes is such a nice person. A true gentleman.”
Ashley’s heart pounded. “The man was outside my apartment?”
“Si, but Mr. Stokes did not think he entered. He checked the door handle and it was locked.”
That didn’t make Ashley feel any better.
Mrs. Moretti handed her a plate of cake. “I will bring the tea into the living room. Take this to your friend. A piece of cake will make her feel better.”
The plate wobbled in Ashley’s hand. “Would you mind if Bonnie and I came back in ten minutes? I’d like to check my apartment.”
“Of course, I did not think. Would you like Mr. Stokes to go with you? He decided not to go for his walk.”
Ashley shook her head. “We’ll be all right.”
“And your friend? She will be okay?”
“She’s feeling better already.” She kissed Mrs. Moretti’s cheek. “We’ll be back soon. Thank you for warning us.”
“It is no problem. I will take care of you.”
Ashley handed Mrs. Moretti her plate and went back into the living room.
She just hoped Bonnie wanted to search her apartment with her. If the man had managed to break in, she didn’t know what they would find.