Angelina Bonaparte Mysteries Box Set by Nanci Rathbun (reading books for 4 year olds txt) 📕

Susan smiled, widely. “I thought Jane would pee her pants, but she gave us all kinds of statements on the agency.”

As she spoke, Susan quickly scanned documents on her monitor. “Bingo. Here’s the OAPT. Balance of almost one-and-a-half mil. Marked as “retirement account” for the Dunwoodies. Looks like they put in about 100K a year.”

“Is that a lot, for their income level?”

“With their other investments in the US, it’s a pretty big chunk. More than forty percent of what they take out of the agency, all told.”

“Apparently the OAPT is not a hidden asset, though. They’re reporting it and Jane is aware of it?” Susan nodded. “Too bad,” I said, “it would mean a lot if John was stashing funds undercover.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Angie, but it looks like it’s on the up and up.” She paused. “But this is odd.”

“What?”

“Two days after Elisa’s death, the agency made a payment to Mrs. Morano. One hundred big ones.”

“A hundred thousand dollars?” As Susan nodded, my heart started pounding in my chest. At last, I thought, a paper trail. Something to take to the police. Something official. Then the logical side of my brain kicked in. “Susan, is there any reason you can think of for the agency to make a payment like that?”

“Nooo.” It was very tentative.

“Sure?” I asked.

“Well, I’m just wondering if there was an account under her name. From what you’ve told me, her mother didn’t have much. Maybe she needed money in a hurry for the funeral and the Dunwoodies advanced it to her.” She looked up from her screen. “But it seems odd that they’d front that large an amount. Even a lavish funeral wouldn’t approach that, not for someone like Elisa.”

“It’s time I paid another condolence call on Mrs. Morano,” I told her. “Keep looking, would you? See if you can locate Elisa’s account and determine its balance.” I gave her the info on Elisa’s 401K and hightailed it out the door and down to the car.

***

The Mrs. Morano who responded to my knock at her apartment door was not the same woman I’d interviewed prior to the funeral. Her hair was styled, her make-up in place, and her well-fitted white capris and boatneck navy cotton top showed off her slim figure. Even her toenails were painted, I noticed as I took in her white sandals. Very put together.

“Mrs. Morano, it’s Angie Bonaparte. I hope you don’t mind my dropping in like this, I was down the street on an assignment and thought I’d stop and see how you’re doing.”

“Just great,” she responded with a big smile, as she took the chain off the door and motioned me in. The room was full of packing boxes. “Excuse the mess,” she said. “I’m getting ready to move.”

“Really?” I seated myself without waiting for an invitation. The scratchy upholstery dug into the bare skin on the backs of my thighs, knees and calves. I angled my legs away from the seat in order to minimize contact. “I hope it’s a move to a nice place,” I said.

“Honey, it’s a move to paradise.” She paced the small clearing in the middle of the room, her arms and hands fluttering as she gestured and spoke. “Ever hear of a place called Belize?”

I remembered that the Dunwoodies’ OAPT was established in Belize, but pleaded ignorance, knowing from her manic behavior that she’d be happy to enlighten me.

“It’s a little country down there near Mexico. Lotsa beaches and sun. Great tourist spot.”

“So you’re taking a vacation?”

“No, I’m moving.” She punctuated the words by tapping her taloned fingernails on the tops of boxes. “Moving. Can you believe it? The job just dropped into my lap.”

“Wow. A job in Belize. How did you ever hear about it?”

“Jane Dunwoodie, she’s the one who set me up.” She stopped pacing for a moment and gave me a sheepish look from lowered lids, her chin down. “I was wrong about her, Angie. She’s been real nice to me since Elisa died. Even paid up on Elisa’s insurance policy ahead of time, so I could take care of the funeral expenses. She said they wanted everything to be nice for the funeral and for me afterwards. So even though I won’t need to work for a few years—who knew that Elisa would take out a policy for that much?—Jane decided to see if some of their acquaintances in Belize might need help. Just so I could get away for a while.”

She looked around the room, spotted her purse, and extracted a pack of Luckies from it. “D’you mind?” I shook my head and she lit up and kept talking, gesturing wildly with the hand that held the cigarette. I hoped all of the flying ashes were dead.

“So, I leave in three days. All this junk’s going into temporary storage. Jane set it up for me. I’m just taking my summer clothes and my photo album.” She pointed to a pitiful little pile on the couch. “There’s a nice little villa waiting for me, a timeshare with a maid, can you believe it? And a part-time job at a local insurance agency. They speak English there, did you know that?” I shook my head again and let her continue. “I don’t even have to start right away, Jane set it up so I’d have some vacation time.” She took a deep drag on the cigarette. “I tell ya, Angie, I was wrong about her, way wrong.”

“Well, that’s great news, Mrs. Morano. I hope you’ll really like it there and I hope your new life turns out fine. I’m glad Mrs. Dunwoodie is taking care of all the paperwork for you. That can be a real hassle, signing all the documents after a death.”

“Yeah, Jane’s taking care of everything. I haven’t had to lift a finger, not even to sign stuff. Except her check, of course.” She giggled a little.

Hitting the bottle this early? I wondered.

I repeated my wishes for her happiness and made my escape, glad to be out