The next day Zoe and I work out all the details on what she’ll need once she moves to Memphis. I knew there was a lot, but my list just keeps growing. A greenhouse, special soil, food, irrigation system, planters, lamps, and of course seeds from all the plants we currently grow. We have a guest house in the back, a little ways from the pool. We decide that this will be the best place for us to set up her lab and growhouse. Growing and selling is legal, but there’s certain stipulations to do it. Since we are trying to grow and develop new strains of the plant, we have to do this without anyone knowing. Yep, we’re going back to the illegal ways.

My list in hand, I hug Zoe goodbye at the airport. This was a fast, one night trip, but we needed to discuss all of the details in person. Plus, after everything that has been going on, I just needed to see my best friend.

I arrive back in Memphis too late in the night to do anything, so I head back to my apartment. Tomorrow I’ll call some movers to help with moving my things to the house. I hadn’t planned on taking my furniture, but I do want my bedroom suite and all my clothes. I have a bed at the house, but it’s from my teenage years, and I want to bring a piece of me there. Besides, I have a therapeutic mattress. I’ve gotten spoiled by it and can’t sleep well on the old mattress at Dad’s. I have to keep reminding myself that it’s actually my house now.

The next morning I get up and get to it. First stop, Du-Kane, Inc. I have an accountant to pay a surprise visit to. It doesn’t take me long to reach our offices and I soon find myself outside the door of Mr. Earl Naylor. He’s been Dad’s CPA for many years. Hopefully he can help me, or at least direct me in the way I need to go. I knock on his door and let myself in.

Mr. Naylor looks up from his desk with a confused look on his face. “Miss Du-Kane, it’s a pleasure to see you.” He gets up and offers me his hand. “I was very sorry to hear about the passing of your father.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Naylor. Thank you for your condolences, and please, call me Alice.” I smile gratefully at him as I take a seat in front of his desk.

“Is there something I can help you with, Alice?”

“Actually, there is. I received some disturbing news the other day and I was hoping you could shed some light on it for me.” I sit up a little straighter and put a mask on my face. One thing Dad taught me was to never show your emotions. “I understand that Du-Kane, Inc. is having financial problems. Is this true, Mr. Naylor?”

I watch as he shifts in his chair. A bead of sweat forms on his forehead and upper lip. “Alice, you have to understand, when marijuana became legal, a lot of the Grow-Ops began to lose money. It became a world where anyone could begin to grow plants and sell them. All you need is a place to grow it and a simple storefront. People no longer have to buy it on street corners or in alleys. It hurt our bottom line. The rental and sanitation departments are doing fine. But to answer your question, yes, the Grow-Op department is going into the red.”

I fall back into my chair. I had a feeling about this, but Dad was a smart businessman. He would have changed with the times and made the necessary adjustments to keep that part going strong. It doesn’t make sense.

“Mr. Naylor, could I please have a copy of all the year-end financials for the last three years?”

“Of course. It will take me a few moments to print everything out. Shall I have them couriered over to you once I am done?”

I stand up and offer him my hand. “Thank you, Mr. Naylor. If you could just send them up to Dad’s office. I have a few things I need to do here before I leave.”

I walk out of his office and head upstairs to Dad’s, well, now my office. When I open the door I have to stop. Everywhere I look, I see him. I feel his presence everywhere. I walk over and run my hand over his antique desk. I remember when he found this at a market downtown. It was all beat up, but he bought it and he and I worked hard sanding it, and refinishing the old desk. I remember how proud he was when we finished it. Now, it sits in the middle of his office, a centerpiece where everything else in the room complements it.

I take a seat in his chair and turn around, looking out over downtown Memphis. A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts and I look over to see Mr. Naylor’s secretary.

“Please, come in.”

She places a manila folder on the desk. “Here are all the documents you requested. If you need anything else, please let me know.”

I thank her as she turns to walk out the door. I decide not to look over the papers here. I need to be back home, preferably with a glass of wine before I dig into all these numbers.

I hear a throat clearing and look up to once again see the secretary. I raise my eyebrow in a questioning look.

“I mean what I said, Miss Du-Kane. If there is anything, anything at all that you need or if you need something explained,” she eyes the folder in my hand, “please call me directly. I left my card in the folder for you.”

This time I watch her leave. That was weird. I open the folder and sure enough, right there, attached to the top page is a business card for a Mrs. Cindy Grimes.

I pack up my purse and folder and leave the offices for home. It feels strange to think of Dad’s house as home again. As soon as I walk in, I kick off my shoes and head straight for the kitchen. I grab a container of ice cream and a glass of wine before going into the living room. I curl up on the couch and open the file. I take a bite of my ice cream and flip through the pages. This doesn't make any sense. I see the bottom lines, but something seems off to me. I’m no accountant, but it just doesn't feel right. The numbers don’t seem to add up I reach for my cell phone and before I even realize what I’ve done, the phone is ringing.

“Yo,” Cash answers.

I look down at my screen to make sure I called the right person.

“Anyone there? Hellooooo?”

“Cash?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“This is Alice Du-Kane.”

“Alice? How did you get my number?”

I roll my eyes. “You gave it to me when we met at your office the other day.”

“Oh yeah. Hey Alice! What can I do for you?”

Is this man seriously older than me? He sounds like a teenager. “I have a problem and I was hoping you could help me.”

“Umm, I mean, didn’t you mean to call Oren or North?”

Give me strength. “No, I meant to call you. You have a degree in accounting right? Well, I have an accounting problem.”

Silence.

“You sure you didn’t mean to call one of my brothers?”

“Can you help me or not, Cash?”

“Yeah, of course I can. Where do you want to meet?”

“Can you come to my dad's house? I have everything here and I would prefer not to go anywhere public where we could be overheard.”

“Sure. I can be there in thirty, if that's alright?”

“Thank you, Cash. I’ll text you the address.” I smile as I hang up the phone.

Twenty-five minutes later, there is a knock on the front door. I open it to see Cash and Ridge? Why is Ridge here?

“He said I may need a bodyguard. You know, entering the competition’s compound, or some crap like that.” He answers my question without me having to voice it outloud. Both brothers shoulder past me and make their way to the kitchen. Alrighty then.

When I walk into the kitchen, I see Ridge sitting at the island and the top half of Cash in my refrigerator.

“Is there something I can help you with, Cash?”

He pops his head out. “Nah, I was just looking for a snack. I haven’t had lunch yet.” He turns and sticks his head back in the fridge. These boys sure do make themselves at home.

After Cash heats himself up a plate of leftover chicken spaghetti and grabs several pickles, he finally sits down at the island beside his brother.

“So, what was it you wanted me to look at?” he asks with half a pickle sticking out of his mouth.

I run my hand down my face and try not to groan in frustration. “I picked up the last three years of financial statements from the company and something doesn't seem right to me. I’m not an accountant, so I was hoping you would look at it and see if you could maybe find the problem. Any discrepancies, overspending, anything you can find.”

Cash starts nodding his head as he answers, “Yeah, I can do that.”

Once he is done eating he walks his plate over to the sink, rinses it off and sets it in the dishwasher. Is this guy for real? I look over to Ridge and see him concentrating on his phone. I tilt my head and I swear I hear something yelling. What is that? I walk over to him and look over his shoulder to see what he is so engrossed in. Are you serious?

“Is that Angry Birds?”

I must have startled him because he jumps up and then starts cursing. “You made me lose! I had that and you made me throw my blue bird away. What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with me?” I just turn around and walk off toward the living room, muttering the whole way to myself, “Jesus, take the wheel.”

Cash is already sitting on the couch with the folder in his lap. He is dividing the papers into different piles on the coffee table. He looks up and I give him a questioning look. He returns my look with a sheepish smile. “This pile here,” he points to the smallest one, “they seem legit. This one here, it doesn’t match up. It’s barely noticeable, but the dates and times are off. This last pile here, this one looks like it could possibly be dummy accounts. Of course I would need Oren to cross-reference those.”

Well color me impressed. “How did you figure this out in a matter of minutes?”

His cheeks turn pink and he clears his throat. “Well, the second pile here has time discrepancies. It’s like someone has erased some of the transactions. If you look at the first pile of papers, the times and dates are consistent. This pile over here has to have some missing transactions. As for this last pile over there, those all have a worm.”

I am so confused. “Okay, a worm like bait to catch a fish, worm?”

He chuckles under his breath. “No. I really don’t know how to explain it. Oren is better at this part, but it’s like someone is slowly draining your various accounts a few dollars at a time, and slipping them into these accounts. Then they are reinvesting them to make it look like a profit loss. In layman's terms it’s called embezzling.”

I have no clue what to say. I assume this is Uncle Richie, but I’m going to need proof. “I may be able to get a hold of more information tomorrow. Do you think Oren would be willing to help me?”

Ridge laughs to himself. I had forgotten he was here. “What’s so funny? You don’t think I should ask him for help?”

He gives my a cocky grin saying, “Oh, he’ll help you all right. He hasn’t shut up about you since you visited our office.”

Cash starts coughing. “Man, he is gonna get you for that one. Don’t be surprised if your twitter account gets hacked again. That last time was epic!”

Ridge rubs his hand over his face. “Alice, forget I said that last part. Okay?”

I wink at him. “Sure thing, Ridge.” I can’t wait to use this as blackmail against him.

Cash stands up and gets serious. “Ridge, let’s go. Alice, try to get more information if you can, and meet us at our house tomorrow night at six. We can order takeout and help you figure this out. I’m assuming you have the address in that little dossier your dad had on us?”

I just nod and tell them I’ll see them tomorrow. They head home and I decide to get ready for bed. The first thing I need to do tomorrow is contact Mrs. Grimes and see if she has anymore information on our financial status. Her last words keep playing in my head. I’m sure she knows something more.