Page 32 of Devil's Retribution
“Give it a try then,” I instructed, moving aside from her—but not completely. She had to brush past me to get around to the keyboard, and the slight contact with her warm curves sent a pleasant tingle through me. For a moment I wondered why I was resisting temptation again.
As she worked on breaking into the computer, I went through the paper files. The old man clearly needed an assistant for more than his housekeeping, the paperwork was in a ridiculous mess.
I did my best, and soon saw some patterns. We had thought that Charles spent nearly all of his time in this very penthouse, but flight plans for his private helicopter and jets showed differently. He was using his rooftop helicopter to slip away multiple times a year to places warm and tropical, where the locals were poor and desperate, and the extradition treaties lax to nonexistent. He had a lot of correspondence with people like land surveyors, contractors, and even more lawyers—these ones, international.
He was definitely up to something. “What do you have?” I asked distractedly as I kept digging.
“I’m trying pretty much everything I can think of,” she replied in a tight voice. “I spent years trying to get him to make his passwords simplistic. Right now, I’m kind of hoping that it didn’t finally sink in.”
“Me too,” I said drily, and she snorted a little in spite of herself. I turned to look at her bent over the keyboard, hair up in a messy bun, the bare back of her neck gleaming smooth. Inviting.
Staring down at her as she struggled with the password, I was suddenly struck with the desire to lean down and start kissing that vulnerable patch of flesh. I drew a deep breath and turned back to my work.
“Wait,” she said, not a minute later. Some more typing, then there was a beep. “That’s it. I’m in.”
“What was it?” I asked, now genuinely curious after all that fast and fruitless work.
“The date of my parents’ death,” she said in an uncomfortable voice. “I wonder what made him choose that of all things?”
“That does strike me as a little morbid.” I turned and moved in next to her to get a good view of the screen. She was already opening folders and searching through them methodically.
She sighed through her nose as she found his financials files and started going through them. There was an awful lot of offshore transactions over the last few years. “You know, the more I think about my uncle, the more I wonder what was really going on in his head.”
“You’re a psychiatrist, dear lady, can’t you guess?” My tone wasn’t mocking, just a bit light.
She eyed me. “I’m a psychiatrist, not a psychic. But I can try.”
“Try, then.”
“Well, he’s certainly more of a coward than I would ever have believed. The man doted on me and my sister growing up. He doted even more on Nick, before all of this.”
“Do you know if anyone has ever tried to threaten or blackmail him before?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” She frowned as she looked through the files. “I think there was some conflict when my parents’ will was read, but I was too young to understand.”
“I’ll take a look around for his legal files. Just keep digging,” I instructed gently, while I continued looking through his filing cabinet.
“I almost wish I could find a journal. It feels like the best way to possibly figure him out. He sure never talked about much of anything substantial with us. Not about himself,” she said, sounding wistful. “He doted on us, but he was also intensely private. Maybe even secretive.”
I let her talk, as it seemed like she needed a sounding board.
“I think he always put himself above everyone around him. He treated me and my sister well, and also Nick. But with the few interactions I saw between him and his business associates or friends he seemed to consider himself smarter, more important or more authoritative.”
“Old money rich-guy syndrome?” I guessed, not quite able to keep the disgust out of my voice. I never respected men who did little work, and risked nothing, only to make a fortune rooted primarily in their family’s money and connections.
She chuckled. “Something like that.” But then she frowned again, and went quiet, hands stilling on the keys.
I watched her. “What is it?”
“I was just thinking about the difference between how he acted before my parents died and afterward. I was very young, like I said, but it was still noticeable.” From her face, she was comparing it to yet another Jekyll and Hyde personality shift, his sudden disappearance when we’d kidnapped her and her son.
“Tell me about it.”
She smiled faintly at my tone. “Dad and Uncle Charles never got along. They were always arguing, and he never paid any attention to me or my sister. We were just kind of nuisances to him when we were around. Though maybe because we were so young he didn’t know how to interact with little kids? Anyway, my mom didn’t even want to be near him, even though he was her only sibling. She hated coming here. Mom and dad were just as wealthy as Uncle Charles, but we never lived high like this.”
“I see.” I pursed my lips. “If Charles was one of your patients, what would his behavior be telling you?”
“My father was a very good man. A kind man. He didn’t like living large. He wanted to give back to Los Angeles. He wanted us to live more modestly so we could help others, and still have money for the future. But you know, I was a smart kid, but I only understood so much of it.”