Chapter 6: The Shell and the Man Behind It
Grace called at seven the following morning.
"The shell company is registered in Delaware," she said.
"Opened four years and two months ago.
The listed director is a name I don't recognize — a Thomas Reeve.
But the bank account attached to it received every fraudulent payment from the Grand Crest over the full four-year period."
Mason was standing in his kitchen, still in yesterday's clothes.
He hadn't gone home until after midnight.
"How much total?" he asked.
"Carol's final number is four hundred and eighteen thousand dollars."
He set his coffee down.
"Brandon Cole's salary was sixty-two thousand a year," Grace continued.
"He couldn't have set this up alone.
The company registration, the bank account, the invoice system — someone with financial knowledge structured this."
"Gerald."
"Gerald Marsh spent six years in hospitality accounting before moving into hotel management.
I pulled his employment history last night." A pause.
"Mason, this wasn't opportunistic.
This was planned before either of them started at the Grand Crest."
Mason walked to the window.
The city below was just waking up.
"They came in together," he said.
"I think so.
I think Brandon was placed as executive chef because he controlled what was ordered and what was received.
Gerald controlled the paperwork and the administrative access.
Between them, they had everything they needed."
"And Joanne noticed."
"Joanne noticed within her first year.
Based on the date stamps on her photos, she documented it for three months before she wrote to you."
Mason thought about a woman sitting at a kitchen table after a long shift, photographing delivery packages on her phone.
Doing the right thing carefully and quietly, the way people do when they know they're alone in it.
"What do we need to prove the connection between Brandon and Gerald?" he asked.
"The bank account is the key.
If Thomas Reeve is a real person, we need to find him.
If he's not, we need to prove who actually controls the account." Grace's voice was precise and unhurried.
"I've engaged a forensic accountant.
She'll have preliminary findings by end of week."
"And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime, Brandon Cole called my office this morning."
Mason turned from the window.
"Why?"
"He wants to talk.
Without attorneys present, which I declined.
But he said — and I'm reading from my notes — 'Tell Mr.
Vance that Gerald is the one who built this.
I was just the face of it.
If he wants the account records, Gerald is the one who can give them to him.'"
Mason was quiet for a moment.
"He's going to give up Gerald to protect himself."
"That's what it sounds like."
"And Gerald?"
"Gerald Marsh called in sick this morning and hasn't been reachable since."
Mason picked up his coffee again.
"Find him," he said.
"Already working on it." A brief pause.
"There's one more thing.
The forensic accountant found a secondary account.
Smaller.
Opened eighteen months ago.
The payments into it are irregular — not supplier invoices.
Different pattern entirely."
"What kind of payments?"
"We don't know yet.
But they started two months after Joanne Parker sent her first letter."
Mason set the cup down again.
"Someone was paying someone to stay quiet," he said.
May you like
"Or to keep watching," Grace said.
"We'll know more by Friday."
