She's My Mom Read online

  “That would be impossible.”

  It was as if he’d just plunged a knife in her heart. “I’ll move back to the guest bedroom.”

  Before she could throw off the covers, his arm slipped around her waist. With amazing strength he pulled her against his body.

  “You misunderstood me,” he whispered. “There’s no way I can be objective about you. Most of the time you are Susan, even if you don’t know it. It’s only when you talk like this that you force me to try and separate the two of you.

  “A little while ago, you made the suggestion that we live in the present when we’re in this bedroom. I have a much better idea. Why don’t we stop analyzing everything and just go with our feelings from now on. If you remember something, fine. If you don’t, we won’t worry about it.”

  “You honestly think you can do that?”

  “You’re lying here next to me, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Life holds wonders man can barely imagine. Your return is a wonder I can’t explain. I’m tired of trying. All I want to do is celebrate this gift.

  “For the first time in six months, I don’t have to remember what it was like to make love to you. Not when the real you is filling my arms. Come here.”

  That was all Susan needed to hear. She pressed her mouth to his with a hunger he reciprocated.

  He didn’t take things slow and easy out of deference to her lack of memory. She knew he was kissing the old Susan. After seventeen years of learning how to please his wife, he was doing everything by instinct. This man was loving her like she’d never dreamed of being loved.

  “You feel so wonderful. I can’t believe you’re alive. I can’t believe it” came his emotional cry. His lips roved feverishly over her face and hair. “I want to love you all night long, so I’ll know this is real.”

  Susan responded with spiraling passion. “I want the same thing,” she whispered against his lips.

  Mutual desire drove their need, their passion. If they slept, she didn’t remember.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “PROFESSOR SEEDALL?”

  “Yes?”

  “My name is Susan Nilson. I’m calling long distance. Eighteen years ago, I was an accounting student of yours. In fact, I have your autograph on the first page of the accounting textbook you wrote, the one we used in your class. This morning I took a chance and found out you were still teaching at the university.”

  “Susan Nilson? The name isn’t familiar, but go ahead. What can I do for you?”

  “I became a CPA, but six months ago I was in an accident and I’ve been suffering from amnesia.”

  “That must be frightening.”

  “In the beginning it was, but I’m getting a lot of help. Right now I’m trying to rebuild my life, but I’m afraid the memory of being a CPA has been erased. Unfortunately I was working on a problem with one of my accounts when I was injured.

  “It’s my belief that a certain construction contractor didn’t want me to report the problem to the owner of the building he was working on, and that’s the reason I was injured. Now I need to be able to prove fraud.”

  “How can I help?”

  “I’d be grateful if you could answer a couple of questions for me. In the section of your book on construction fraud, I jotted down some phrases in the margins while I was taking notes during your lecture. Could you tell me what they mean?”

  “If I can.”

  “The first is bonded warehouse. The second is schedule of values.”

  “Oh, yes. I probably gave you the example of a contractor who works with the architect to make a schedule of values for the items he’s planning to order for a given project.

  “When he makes an actual purchase order far ahead of the time it’ll be needed, he has to have a warehouse in which to store the item. Therefore the warehouse has to be bonded.”

  Susan was trying to understand. “So what does that have to do with fraud?”

  “One doesn’t necessarily have to do with the other. Say the contractor is ordering wood for a trim. The architect designates maple on the schedule of values. However, the contractor makes a purchase order for poplar, which is a cheaper wood. After the construction is done, he’ll put a maple stain on it.”

  Maple stain… That was one of the items on the list Brett had made.

  “When the architect makes the inspection, he probably won’t catch the difference because it’s all installed and looks like maple, so he signs the pay request for the maple wood specified. It’s unfortunate, because the architect is supposed to protect the owner.

  “Let’s say the contractor gets paid by the bank. He in turn sends a check to the supplier for the poplar wood and stain. The extra cash goes in his pocket.”

  “I get it. Now, tell me about the fraud example you gave us using the bonded warehouse.”

  “Let’s assume the architect specifies a cast-iron tub on the schedule of values. The contractor orders it ahead of time. So it sits in the bonded warehouse. In the meantime, he orders a steel tub which he installs right away.

  “It’s likely that neither the architect nor the building inspector will notice the difference in tubs, so the contractor submits the pay request for the cast-iron tub to the bank. With the money, he pays for the steel tub, and sends the cast-iron tub back to the supplier. That way he pockets the extra two hundred or so for himself.”

  “Does this go on a lot in the construction business?”

  “More than it should. What you need to do is check the schedule of values against the purchase orders and bank lien waivers. All three should match for every given item.

  “If they don’t, then you know something’s wrong. Find an independent building inspector who will do an on-site inspection of the finished product to prove the contractor shortchanged the owner.

  “For that, I’d get hold of an architect who writes a lot of specifications. He’ll be able to recommend an inspector and answer questions about the construction business I couldn’t possibly answer.”

  She was starting to get excited. “Professor Seedall, I can’t thank you enough for your help. You’ve done more for me than you’ll ever know.”

  “I’m glad to be of assistance.”

  “My husband tells me I’ve used your textbook and notes like a bible.”

  “Well, I’m flattered. Good luck to you, my dear. If you solve your problem, I’d like to hear about it.”

  “I promise I’ll give you a call. Thank you again, and goodbye.”

  Armed with that information, Susan turned on the computer the way Brett had shown her. It didn’t take long to bring up the index file on disk one.

  After a study of the various headings, she came to the conclusion that other accountants must be handling the financial records of the Etoile’s casino, restaurants and shops.

  It appeared Johnny Drummond had put the Lytie Group in charge of his accounts dealing with the erection of the building, the grounds and the swimming pool.

  There were headings for general landscape artist, design group and general contractor. Under contractor she discovered sixteen sections. In each one, she found references to the terms she’d discussed with the professor.

  He’d told her to make certain everything matched up. She’d start with the first item and work her way through every section. If there were discrepancies, she’d find them.

  “Hi, Mom!”

  She turned in the chair. “Good morning, darling. Did you just get up?”

  “A little while ago. Hey, you’re already working. I told you the computer was easy to run.”

  “At least for the things you taught me.”

  “How long have you been down here?”

  “About an hour.”

  “I heard you on the phone. Who were you talking to?”

  “My old accounting professor in California. He gave me some pointers so I’d know how to proceed.”

  “That’s great! Want some help?”

  “I was just going
to ask if you’d show me how to print off these sheets.”

  “Sure.” After he’d explained the steps, he asked, “Where’s Dad?”

  “He was sound asleep when I left him a little while ago.”

  Their night of lovemaking had been so satisfying, she’d awakened wanting to start all over again. Grady had become her addiction and she hoped it had been the same for him.

  She’d lain there for a while, willing him to wake up so she could reach for him again, but he never stirred. After a half hour of feasting her eyes on his rugged male beauty, she finally left him to enjoy his slumber. As for Susan, she’d felt like conquering the world.

  The sooner she could find the person who’d tried to kill her, the sooner their lives could return to normal. There was a whole world of living ahead of them. She couldn’t wait to shout to the entire world that she was alive and happy. So happy it was almost frightening…

  Not wanting to disturb her husband, she’d darted across the hall for a shower in the guest bathroom. Once dressed in another pair of shorts and a T-shirt, she’d crept downstairs to the den to make the call to Professor Seedall.

  “Are you hungry, or can you wait until your father’s up?” She clicked on Print.

  “I already had a bowl of cereal.”

  Susan smiled. “I should have known. Okay. Why don’t you sit next to me. Thanks to my old professor, I’ve found the schedule of values and the purchase orders on the disks so we can begin checking them. Here’s the purchase order for the electrical items. Start at the top and read each one. I’ll double-check them on the schedule of values sheet and we’ll see what happens.”

  Brett tucked one leg beneath him and began. He read down a list of twenty items. Everything checked out on her sheets. She printed the next set of sheets and they continued. When she got to wiring, she found a problem.

  “Read that again, Brett.”

  “Twelve-gauge wire. At fifty feet, the cost is $7. 95. The order is for twenty thousand feet, which makes $32,000.”

  “My sheets say ten-gauge wire. At fifty feet, the cost is sixteen dollars. For twenty thousand feet that comes to $64,000.”

  They looked at each other. “Mom—that’s a difference of $32,000!”

  Susan was trembling. “There’s our first discrepancy. I’ve marked it. Let’s go on.”

  They worked for another hour, reading off item after item.

  “Bathroom fan, seventy cubic feet per minute, at $27 times 4,050 makes $109,350.”

  “My sheets say bathroom fan, 210 cubic feet per minute, at $60 times 4,050 makes $243,000! Quick, Brett. Check that list you made for me.”

  “Oh, yeah. Fans were on it.” He pulled it out of the drawer and gave it to her.

  “Those little letters meant cubic feet per minute. Brett,” she cried. “That makes a difference of $133,650.”

  Her mind was leaping ahead. She quickly put down the papers and returned to the computer. After going to the section on interiors, she printed the sheets and found the maple stain. After what the professor had told her, she looked for the item she suspected would be there.

  “Oh, boy, Brett. This is like hitting the jackpot.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The purchase order for poplar trim doesn’t jive with the maple trim on the schedule of values. There’s a difference of $222,000.” She lifted her head. “I’ve got to tell your dad.”

  She grabbed all the sheets and hurried from the den to the staircase. Brett followed.

  “Grady?” she called out to her husband, dashing up the steps as fast as she could. Her voice rang through the house.

  He raced down the hall toward her, tying the belt of his robe. His hair was still damp from the shower. The familiar smell of the soap he used was a potent reminder of last night.

  “Easy, Susan.” His hands went to her upper arms. “Did you have another breakthrough?”

  Those eyes… They were begging for the right answer this time, but she still couldn’t give it to him.

  All the joy of the night they’d spent together instantly evaporated. He’d just presented her with incontrovertible evidence that he wanted the old Susan back. To believe anything else would be a lie.

  There was no question she’d brought him pleasure. But until she’d heard the eagerness and yearning in his question, she’d refused to admit that the kind of intimate love talk and laughter a husband and wife normally shared had been missing last night.

  When he’d made love to her, it had been with his body, not his heart and soul. There was no use kidding herself.

  It wasn’t his fault. He could no more help it than he could stop breathing. Every time she went to bed with him, she had to face the fact that he’d always be searching for the familiar, would always be waiting breathlessly for the change in her to happen.

  In the meantime, Grady would honor his marriage vow to love her in sickness and in health because that was the kind of man he was. But she would never know the full measure of his love, which was reserved for the woman he’d married.

  Last night shouldn’t have happened.

  Until then, she’d lived with the belief that everything would turn out all right. She’d imagined Grady had, too. Now they both knew differently.

  Since her husband would never refuse her in his bed, Susan would have to be the one who prevented a repeat performance of last night.

  Making love with Grady in the future would be like dying a little every time they did, until eventually there was nothing left. She couldn’t risk it.

  “No. No breakthrough. But Brett and I have found the evidence we’ve been looking for,” she said before his expression closed. After telling him about her call to Professor Seedall, she handed him the sheets.

  “The proof’s on the paper, Dad!” Brett cried out. “Mr. Stevens has been stealing from Mr. Drummond.”

  “Brett’s right, Grady. Out of the hundreds of items we’ve gone over so far, only three haven’t matched. Yet Jim has already been overpaid by almost $400,000.

  “I have a feeling this is just the tip of the iceberg. His take could be in the millions.” She pointed to the items she’d checked off.

  As Grady looked everything over, his face darkened. “He obviously stole on items that would pass the building code. That’s how they got by the inspection.

  “Most architects trust the general contractor and don’t bother to check the figures that carefully. For that matter, a lot of accountants aren’t as thorough as they could be.

  “Jim was probably lulled into believing he could get away with anything. Winning the bid to build the Etoile must have seemed like a godsend. However, he didn’t count on Drummond hiring such a superior accounting firm.”

  “Yeah,” Brett muttered. “He’s going to find out you don’t mess with Mom.”

  Susan smiled at her cheering section before looking at Grady once more. “Why didn’t the Lytie Group handle all his taxes? Did I ever tell you?”

  He nodded. “Johnny Drummond built his first hotel in Reno and used a firm there to manage his accounts. As you explained it to me, your boss told you that when Drummond built the Etoile, he decided to separate the casino and payroll end of the two hotels from the new physical plant in Las Vegas.

  “Apparently he did it to have better control. As it turns out, he was right. The Lytie Group did a good job for him. So good, in fact, that Jim Stevens had to kill off their top accountants unless he wanted to be ruined.”

  “Did my boss give the account to someone else?”

  “No. According to Boyd Lowry, Drummond grew frustrated at the idea of a third person being assigned, so he withdrew his business and put it all back in Reno.”

  She shook her head. “After Mr. Beck died and I was supposedly killed, wouldn’t you think he’d have suspected foul play?”

  “Yes, but on Geoffrey LeBaron’s part. There were rumors that he’d committed a murder-suicide.”

  “When Mr. Drummond finds out what really happened—”
/>   “It’s going to be a shock to a lot of people,” her husband said.

  “Brett, thanks to you, we’ll know the whole truth by the end of the day.”

  “How come?”

  “Those lists you made with the letters I wrote on the calendar? So far, two of the items are the ones we found where he cheated the owner. Something tells me you cracked my shorthand code. It’s going to make my work go a lot faster. You’re brilliant, you know that?”

  “You’re both brilliant,” Grady said in a solemn tone.

  She turned to her husband. “Mr. Beck probably found the discrepancies and phoned Jim’s office to discuss them.”

  “That was his fatal mistake.” Grady’s eyes held a faraway look. “Jim must have been close to a stroke when he found out you’d been given Beck’s account. From that moment on, your days were numbered and we never knew.”

  Susan shuddered. “What I’d like to figure out is how Jim learned Mr. LeBaron was a client of mine.”

  “That was my fault, Mom.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you got your first account, you told Dad and me that Mr. LeBaron owned a fireworks plant. I was so excited, I called Mike to tell him. We were both hoping that when you knew him better, you’d be able to get us some deals on fireworks.”

  She smiled. “I can understand that. What doesn’t make sense is how Jim Stevens knew I’d be going to the fireworks plant on the morning of the explosion. Those bombs had to have been set in place earlier than Saturday.”

  “I know how he found out,” Brett said. “When we were swimming at family hour the week before, I heard Mrs. Stevens invite all of us to the speedway on Saturday morning to watch Randy race his bike. They had free tickets for our family.

  “You told her you had to meet Mr. LeBaron early for a big meeting that might go on all day, so you couldn’t come. When she acted really disappointed, you explained that he was a nervous client and it would probably take you a long time to reassure him that he wasn’t in trouble on his taxes.”