“Sure did. They found the truck, stripped to the metal out in Arbor Hill.”


Ronnie read the report carefully, looking for any clue that it was a fraud. “Does Tommy know about this?”


“No. I can’t reach him. I’ve left messages everywhere for him.”


“He’s probably still drugged up from all the Percocet he stole from my house during the Christmas party,” the executive grumbled.


“What?”


“Nothing, never mind.” Ronnie’s teeth sank into the soft wood of her pencil while she continued to pore over the report. No sign of forced entry, not that much was needed to get past a simple chain link fence surrounding the work site. The truck was a total loss and there was no sign of inflated figures for the missing tools and materials. “I can’t see anything out of the ordinary here, Sis. Other than the cost, what is it that’s bothering you?”


“I ran a check against the reports we have on file and from what I can see, that project should have been finished or almost close to it. But according to the loss report, they had barely started. I gave Mike Orbison a call and he said they were at least six weeks away from completion.”


“If they were so far away from being finished….” Ronnie looked at the paper again. “Then why was so much stuff there? Look at this…all the large panes of glass, paint, sheet-rock, even carpeting. I thought those were the last things to be delivered.”


“That’s what I thought. Maybe they expected to be finished before this.”


“No…Mike’s been in business long enough to know exactly what he needs and when he needs it. I can’t imagine him ordering stuff to be brought on site without it being used right away. He knows how easily things are stolen from construction sites.” Ronnie’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense out of the puzzle. “And you’re sure these things were on the site?”


“I can’t imagine him lying to us after all this time. His family has worked for us since the 60’s and this is only the fifth time they have ever filed a claim.”


“I’m sure it’s the first time it was in the six figures.” Ronnie picked up the phone. “Laura, get hold of Mike Orbison for me.” A minute later the buzzer and flashing light announced the task was accomplished. “Mike? Veronica Cartwright…fine and yourself? Good. Mike, I wanted to talk to you about this claim you filed with Cartwright Insurance. Sure, I understand that…yes, that seemed strange to me too, that is why I wanted to call you…no, there’s no problem with that….yes…absolutely…uh huh…yes…no, I didn’t know that….uh huh…when was this?”


“What’s going on?” Susan queried, drawing a frown from her sister.


“Yes Mike, I’m still here, go on….uh huh….when did you talk to him last? I see…Mike, let me ask you something, other than your people, who else had keys to the building? What? Well when did this happen? Did you ask him about it? When? And that’s the last time you talked to him?

Okay Mike…no, I understand perfectly….of course…you too…yes, say hi to Sarah for me….okay Mike, good-bye.” Ronnie hung up the phone and sighed.


“So what did he say?”


“He said everything was ordered weeks in advance but Tommy kept pushing the dates back, that is why everything was on site when the robbery happened. Did the police report say whether the truck was hot-wired or not?”


“I don’t think so. I didn’t pay that much attention to it, why?”


“Mike said that Tommy stopped by there last week and after he left a set of keys turned up missing.”


“Keys for what?”


“The building, the truck, the equipment boxes, everything. Mike said they were on his desk when Tommy stopped by but he couldn’t find them later that day.”


“Ronnie, you don’t think….”


“That is exactly what I think.” The dark-haired woman rose and went to the window, the bright sun reflecting off the snow banks below. “Susan, I want you to contact all the other contractors and tell them to deal with me directly from now on, instead of Tommy. If he shows up anywhere, I want to know about it.”


“Why would he steal? It’s not like he needs money.”


“He stole from me!” Ronnie growled angrily. “Why are you defending him? The truth is right in front of your face.” The phone buzzer interrupted her tirade. “What?”


“John Means from Means Auditing on line one,” Laura replied.


“Terrific.” She slumped down in her chair and picked up the receiver. “This had better be good news,” she said before pressing the button. “This is Veronica Cartwright.”


Ten minutes later a furious Veronica and a shocked Susan stared at each other.


“Now do you believe me?”


“I can’t believe he would steal from his own family,” the redhead replied quietly.


“Well he did. A few more weeks and he would have crippled the Real Estate division, not to mention what it would have done to the company as a whole. We’ll be lucky to post a profit this quarter.”


“What could he possibly need with that much money?”


“What do you think, Susan? You’re the one who mentioned drugs last week.”


“I know I said it but I didn’t really believe it.”


“Well, you should have.” Ronnie picked up the phone and buzzed her secretary. “Laura, I want you to call the security company and the locksmith. I want all the locks changed and Tommy’s key codes blocked before the end of the day. Call downstairs and make sure no one lets him in. Then call all the heads in for a meeting. I don’t care what time, just make sure everyone is there.”


“I just can’t believe it,” the younger sister repeated.


“Believe it. Our baby brother is a thief and a liar and I’ll be damned if he’s going to get away with it.”


By the end of the day all the locks had been changed and the news broken to the rest of the family. Ronnie shut down every construction project until further notice and announced that Frank’s brother John would run the Real Estate Division until a suitable replacement could be found. As an added precaution, she called the bank and reported Tommy’s corporate credit card stolen only to find out that large cash advances had been taken on the card during the last two weeks and it had reached its limit. Yet another piece of information to add to Ronnie’s already pounding headache of problems.



* * *

“What about a nice scarf?”


“She’ll hate it.”


“Hmm…what about a bottle of her favorite perfume?”


“Ugh, I hate her perfume.”


“Well, what does she like?” Rose flipped through the glossy pages of the Macy’s catalog.

“They’ve got some pretty jewelry in here.” They had spent the last two hours flipping through the various catalogs and flyers, to no avail. Everything suggested was dismissed just as quickly and Rose was running out of ideas to help her friend.


“No. Mother’s got more jewelry than she knows what to do with.” Ronnie tossed the Bloomingdale’s catalog on the desk, picked up another, and sighed. “I hate Christmas.”


“Oh, don’t be a grump now, I promise to help you find something for her.” Rose gave her friend a smile. “It can’t be that hard to find a present for your mother.”


“Beatrice Phoebe Cartwright is without a doubt the hardest woman to buy a present for.” Ronnie took a sip of wine and placed the long stemmed glass on the desk. “Maybe I should just send her on a cruise.” Blue eyes twinkled with mischievous thought. “Maybe a nice, long cruise.”


“Would she like that?”


“I would,” the executive replied with a devilish grin. “Maybe one of those around-the-world tours. You know, maybe six, eight…months.”


“Oh, you. Stop,” Rose playfully chastised, reaching out to lightly swat Ronnie’s forearm. “Your mother is not that bad, she’s just a little…a little….” She put her finger to her lips, trying to figure out one or two words that could accurately describe her friend’s mother. “Stuffy.”


“My mother is a snob, Hon.” Ronnie said as she took another sip of the rose wine. “She doesn’t take no for an answer, she expects perfection all the time, and worries more about the family image than how we feel.” Another sip, “Maybe I should just get her a gift certificate and let her pick out what she wants.”


“Are you sure?” Rose flipped a page in the catalog and held it out for the older woman to see.

“Here. There’s a toll free number you can call to order one, if that’s what you really want to do,” she said, her tone making it clear that she did not believe that to be the case. Despite having only known her for three weeks, Rose was beginning to understand some of the little facial expressions and mannerisms that betrayed Ronnie’s true feelings. Pencil gnawing meant frustration, fingernail tapping equated to boredom, and the firm yet gentle embrace that held her each night spoke of something neither of them would dare put words to.


Blue eyes looked up from the liquid for a moment, then back down again. “No,” Ronnie grudgingly admitted. “I just hate feeling so much pressure. I feel like I have to get the perfect gift.”


She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, realizing that in her friend’s family, it was not far from being the truth. The Christmas party proved that. Not only was the entire thing thrust upon Ronnie’s shoulders, there had been no sense of appreciation from Susan and Beatrice for all the effort. Rose decided perhaps a different tactic was called for. “Okay then, what is the perfect gift?”