At 4:30 pm sharp, I pushed a button on a number pad outside the Forsythe building on Edgewood Lane in the city of Montecrest where the mysterious Forensic Accountant, Peter Barlow, had an office. A light on the number pad went green, and I heard the satisfying whirr and clunk of the lock being opened. His office was up the stairs and down a hallway, and the door to his office was ajar. He rose to greet me as I entered.
“Hello, Miss Warner.”
“Kate is fine. Nice to meet you, Mr. Barlow.”
“Peter is fine as well.”
Peter Barlow, Forensic Accountant, did not look at all like I expected an accountant to look.
I guess I was expecting a slight, middle-aged, mousy man with big glasses and a meek demeanor.
That was not Peter Barlow.
He had the lean, hungry look of a marathoner, with close-cropped, brown hair and an easy smile. He shook my hand, and I had to look up to meet his eyes. I’m tall at 5’9”, so he had to be at least 6’2”. And those eyes. They were both a warm and intense green, a shade I’d never seen before, and they crinkled slightly at the corners as I stared into them. I quickly looked down as he invited me to sit and then took a seat himself at his large, neatly arranged desk. This was a man with an orderly mind. I suddenly regretted leaving the grey in my hair, and I tucked the bits of it that I knew had been dyed behind my ear.
“How can I help you?”
“I’m a friend of Angela Beech.”
“Yes, what a tragedy. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. I think you’ll understand if I am quite determined to help find her killer.”
His smile faded. “Isn’t that something better suited for the police?”
“Perhaps, but, you see, Angie mentioned to me that she was thinking of hiring you.” It seemed I was in the habit of telling little white lies. That was a big no-no in business, at least if you’re an ethical businessperson, but I fell into the habit now quite easily with my new sleuthing hobby. I mean, at this point, I was basically a detective.
“I’m afraid, Mrs. Warner, that I am not allowed to discuss cases with anybody but the client.” His voice hardened.
“I quite understand, Peter, and I would never ask you to tell me anything that was covered by attorney/client privilege. You see, though, Angie shared with me many of her concerns with the HOA, and I never actually heard the results of your inquiries, so I was hoping to ask you some purely hypothetical questions.”
“Hypothetical?”
“Yes.”
“Such as?”
“Let’s just say, hypothetically, of course, a client came to you and asked you to look into somebody who worked for them. What types of things would you look for?”
“Hypothetically?”
“Yes. Like say I was the President of an HOA called Garden Gate, and I suspected a contractor was giving kickbacks to the manager or the Treasurer, or really anybody else. What could you do for me as a forensic accountant?”
Peter’s face lit up, and I had an unbidden thought about how handsome he was when he wasn’t frowning at me for asking inappropriate questions. I found myself checking for a ring. What was wrong with me? I notice details, but that’s not the kind of detail I needed in order to figure out who murdered Angie.
“Why don’t you have a seat,” he said. We both sat at his desk, looking across from one another. I couldn’t get over those brilliant green eyes. “If I was looking for kickbacks from a contractor, I would examine financial records, including invoices, payment receipts, bank statements, and accounting books, and I would compare the contractor's financial transactions with the hiring person's records to identify any suspicious patterns or irregularities.” I felt a fondness for this Peter Barlow growing. He spoke my language. I swear if he said the word “EBITDA” I’d swoon.
“Wouldn’t it be illegal, though, to just go in and demand to see a contractor’s financial records?”
“Definitely. I could only do that if the contractor gave permission, or, if there was enough evidence, the client could get a court order for me to see them.
“In the case of an HOA, most have their books audited every year, and there’s no reason to think the auditor would lie or be paid off. That’s rare, in my experience, so you’re right to be thinking along the lines of something that would be much more hidden. Kickbacks, where the HOA overpays the contractor and then, say, the manager that hired them receives some cash under the table, are a lot harder to find. I’ve heard that’s a lot more common.”
“Okay, I’m following you. If you can’t look at a contractor’s records, though, how can you find out if kickbacks are happening?”
“One way is to look at discrepancies in pricing. If I look at a contract and see that it is way overpriced compared to industry standards, that could be an indicator.
“Another thing to look for is asking if somebody is suddenly enjoying the little extras that they normally couldn’t afford. Is a manager, for instance, sitting in the L.A. Charger’s box seats that are owned by one of the HOA’s contractors?
“Finally, if I was on the case, I might go interview a few people. A jealous co-worker, for instance, might tell me if somebody was suddenly spending a lot of money, or I might ask other clients what they are being charged for the same service.
“It’s quite difficult to trace money to and from an HOA compared, to, say, a marriage, where I would have permission to look at anything with my client’s name on it. If a husband were hiding money, it wouldn’t take too long for me to find it. But with an HOA, I can look into them as an entity, but I can’t look into the finances of an individual, like a manager, or the finances of the contractor.”
So far I was following him.
“There’s things to look for other than kickbacks, though. For instance, let’s say a manager and a President went out to dinner, talked business, and ended up spending $500 for food and wine, charging it to the HOA. That’s not illegal as long as the President approves the charge. In that case, I would look for the charges that don’t include a receipt that gets paid to the manager. Lots of money goes to a manager for a variety of reasons, so a $500 dinner wouldn’t get flagged in an audit. It is, however, quite unethical, as I doubt the homeowners paying their dues would vote for a budget that includes food and wine for their President and manager. And, as I like to say, if somebody is unethical, it’s one short step to illegal, and one might want to look a bit further into that.” Peter shuffled some papers on his desk.
I pushed my grey hair behind my ear again. Why did I even dye it? So dumb!
“So let me see if I follow this. Hypothetically, I might want to look at contracts priced higher than the industry standard.”
“Hypothetically speaking, yes.”
“I should look for somebody that might be getting box seats at football games.”
“That was also a hypothetical. There are other sports.”
“Like the L.A. Lakers
Peter shrugged. “Could be.”
“Perhaps checking through receipts could shed insight on people that might be involved.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“And I believe you said something about a husband hiding money. Maybe I should be looking at husbands who could be involved in all this.”
“In the case of this hypothetical situation, the husband would be ancillary, in my opinion. I’m just using it as an example of an easier case to solve, but I’m just a forensic accountant, not a psychic. It would be hard to say how somebody like that would be involved.”
I got up to leave and extended my hand. “Thank you so much, Peter. You’ve been a wealth of information.”
He gave me a good, firm handshake and a wide smile. “I hope at the very least, you understand what a forensic accountant could potentially find out.”
“I do indeed!”
Peter leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and gave me a wicked grin. “I feel like you should know a lot of this, though, Ms. Warner. As a very successful businessperson, I’d think you’d know all about fraud and kickbacks.”
“You googled me!”
“That would be the forensic part of Forensic Accountant. I would have been remiss in my duties if I hadn’t googled the person coming in to ask questions about a murdered client of mine.”
“Well, if you did your homework correctly, then you’d know I’m actually retired. And Angie really was a friend of mine. And, I’ve never had to deal with anything like kickbacks or fraud or anything of the sort. If it was happening around my company, I certainly had no idea.”
“So you’re investigating your friend’s murder. Do you not trust the police?”
“I trust them. I just....” I played with my necklace, adjusting the palm tree charm. “I guess I just think I’m more motivated than they are.” It really wasn’t that. I felt a driving need to find Angie’s killer, and if the police found them before I did, that was fine by me. But I knew Javi. He was a great guy, but he’d never been somebody who thought outside the box. The killer was the person standing over the body with the gun, but I had a feeling this case was going to be different. Also, why was this man making me nervous? I never got nervous in interviews. His piercing green eyes saw right through me, and I found myself reaching for words.
“I’m going to bet you googled me as well,” he said.
“As a matter of fact, I did. You have very good reviews on yelp.”
That made him laugh. “I’m sure, except for the one lady a couple of years ago who was angry because I had the audacity to charge her for my time.”
I laughed too and stood up to go.
He leaned forward, serious again. “Look, Ms. Warner. Kate. I appreciate what you’re doing. I found Angie to be incredibly smart and very kind, trying to do what was best for the neighborhood. If there’s any way I can be of further help, please let me know.” We shook hands as I left, and I swore he glanced at the ring finger on my left hand.
Come on, Kate! Get it together. You’re not here for an episode of The Bachelor. You’re here to solve a murder.
It would be nice, though, to think about real relationships apart from the failed one from three years ago.
As I drove home, I thought about the attractive Peter Barlow and what he had been looking into. He had given me much to think about.
I also thought about Javi and, as it now was called in my mind, “The Kiss.” Javi was married. He was yesterday. Peter Barlow might or might not be tomorrow, but he had potential, more potential than anybody I’d met in the last three years.
I pulled into the driveway and noticed an alert on my phone from Dayna.
**Just got off the phone with Ivan Sokolov’s boss.**
**He was absolutely in Australia at the time of Angie’s murder.**
**Definitely same guy.**
**Boss says he won’t stop talking about urinal cushions.**
I sighed. One more suspect to cross off the list, but that also meant one more lead that went nowhere.
I looked around at the houses surrounding me, stately homes with long driveways, two-rail split rail fences stained Luxe Beige-2012 with their perfectly trimmed hedges, and a shiver went up my spine. One thing I was becoming more and more sure of. This murder had something to do with the HOA.