Her Man Friday(37)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

It was true. Never in his entire career had Leo found himself up against a wall like this one. He had tried every maneuver in the book—and had invented one or two new ones—trying to breach Kimball’s private records, trying to figure out how someone could steal fifty million dollars from one place and put it in another. Either the man was even more brilliant than Leo suspected, or else Leo had missed something somewhere along the line. And the thought that he may have missed something somewhere really didn’t set well with him at all.

Plainly put, Leo Friday was just too good at what he did to ever make mistakes. He didn’t make mistakes. Ever. At least, he never had before. Whatever was going on at Kimball Technologies, whoever was stealing tens of millions of dollars annually… He bit back a ragged sound. Well, whoever was doing it was smarter than Leo was.

There. He’d admitted it. For the first time in his career, he was working against someone with a superior intellect. Which was yet another reason to suspect Schuyler Kimball of the act. Of course, from the start, Leo had suspected the billionaire was the one who was behind the amazing disappearing millions. And there wasn’t a human being alive who was more intelligent than Schuyler Kimball. In spite of that, Leo resented the whole notion of being outsmarted.

And he still hadn’t proven for sure—or at all—that Kimball was the one stealing the money from himself. There continued to exist an outside possibility that there was someone else behind the theft, someone who was in no way entitled to the money. Now all Leo had to do was figure out how to outsmart the sonofabitch. Which he could probably do eventually, if he could just finger who, exactly, the sonofabitch was.

"What about Miss Rigby?"

Leo blinked once, uncertain who had even posed the question, so lost had he been in his thoughts. "I beg your pardon?" he said.

"What about Miss Rigby?" Cohiba Man asked.

"What about her?"

"Have you checked her files? You might find something there." This time it was Versace Man who asked the question.

"Why would I want to check her files?" Leo said. "Do you really think I’m going to figure out who’s filtering fifty million bucks annually by trying to find out where Kimball’s next tea party is taking place?"

Cohiba Man shook his head. "No, Mr. Friday. But Miss Rigby has been with Mr. Kimball for a long time, and is privy to other areas of his life. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that he may have entrusted her with some of his responsibilities."

Oh, right, Leo thought. Like keeping track of his tennis balls and which call girl was due at the estate that evening.

"You never know, Mr. Friday," Cohiba Man added in a voice that was rife with speculation. Evidently, Leo wasn’t the only one who wondered just what, exactly, the duties of a social secretary involved. "Perhaps Miss Rigby might shed some light on what’s going on. Not that you need to ask her anything specific, mind you. But, through her, you might be able to discover a few more things about the situation than you know now."

Through her? Leo echoed to himself. Now why did that sound like a really pleasant activity to undertake?

"Check Miss Rigby’s computer," Cohiba Man said. "See if you can find anything there."

Leo’s lips parted fractionally in surprise, and he narrowed his eyes at the man. "What did you say?"

"I said check Miss Rigby’s laptop. You might find something there."

For a moment, Leo didn’t—couldn’t—say a word. Never in his life had he felt more stupid than he did at that moment. Why had it not occurred to him earlier that Miss Rigby would have her own computer, and her own files? Like, oh, say… on day one? Of course Lily Rigby would have a computer, he thought now. Even if it was just to keep track of Kimball’s social engagements. And hadn’t she herself stated that she kept in touch with the billionaire through e-mail? She certainly hadn’t checked it from Kimball’s big computer in the office, because Leo had been in there every day. And even with Kimball in residence, he suspected she would need the use of a computer on a fairly regular basis. It made sense that she would have one at her disposal.

But where?

And how was he supposed to gain access to it, when he hadn’t even been able to access the woman yet?

Not that he was honestly expecting to find anything significant among her files regarding the missing money. Hey, after all, Miss Rigby was no rocket scientist—or computer programmer, for that matter. But there still might be something in her files that would direct Leo to another place to look.

"Uh… okay," he said, trying to mask his utter humiliation at having been so sideswiped by Miss Rigby’s physical attributes that it had never occurred to him to investigate her professional ones. "I can see where it might be beneficial to check Miss Rigby’s computer. I’ll do that right away. As soon as I figure out where she keeps it."

"Oh, it’s in her room," Halston Man offered. "On the left-hand side of her writing desk, which is just across from the door. It’s actually kind of easy to miss, because she has a few Beanie Babies stacked on it. Prance, Pounce and… Snip, I think. She likes cats."

Every man in the room turned to look at Halston Man, but he seemed not to understand why. "What?" he asked. "What’s wrong?"

"How do you know so much about Miss Rigby’s room?" Leo asked.

The other men nodded in silence.

Halston Man smiled and swiped a hand negligently through the air. "Oh, we trade books from time to time, and on occasion, when I’ve been at the estate, she’s offered me free access to her book shelf. We’re both huge Anya Seton fans. And," he added a bit sheepishly, "I’m the one who gave her the Beanie Babies. When you’re a collector, you frequently wind up with duplicates, you know."

Leo nodded but decided not to comment. Evidently, the other members of the board of directors were inclined to do likewise, because no one said a word.

"Uh, fine," Leo finally managed. "I’ll, uh… I’ll check it as soon as I can."

"Good," Cohiba Man said. "Because you have two weeks to find out who’s taking that money, how they’re doing it, and where the money is going. Two weeks. Do I make myself clear?"

"What happens if I don’t find it?" Leo asked.

"Oh, you’ll find it, Mr. Friday." Cohiba Man swept his gaze down the length of the table, where each of the other members of the board was nodding his head in slow agreement. "We have faith in you. Because if you don’t find the missing money, as I said before, you’ll never work in this town again. And that, I promise you, is a threat you should take seriously."