I continued, “It’s not hard. I saw it all the time in financial crimes. People think banks have hardcore security, but there are lots of ways to get around it. Bank workers are susceptible to social engineering and a good cover story as much as anyoneelse. Age and illness offer perfectly good reasons why someone can’t get into the bank in person or need some help with their accounts from a family member, for instance. Once Austin had things set up, all he had to do was change Chloe’s online password, start dishing out an allowance, and she had no way of knowing what was actually going on.”
“Fucking hell.” Mads ran his fingers through his silver locks and let out a sigh. “So, you were right, after all.”
I pushed the papers away and reached for my beer. “I wish I wasn’t. Thank God she listened to her gut and didn’t hand him power of attorney.”
Mads looked thoughtful. “What about Belinda? She’d have to know what was going on, right?”
I shrugged. “Not necessarily. The payments were mostly household and car stuff. Nothing to specifically indicate she’s in on it. Unless Austin told her about it or they have a joint account, which seems unlikely. Knowing what we do about the guy, Belinda could easily have no idea. For all we know, he could be ripping her off as well. I’ve seen it happen time and again where the partner is completely in the dark about what their loved one is up to.”
As rain began hammering on the iron roof like shotgun pellets, Mads jumped and glanced toward the window. “I keep coming back to that house,” he said, peering out into the gloom. “You think he’s in financial shit?”
I followed his gaze, the bleak evening weather bringing some fog that snaked in and around the rows of trellised vines. “Either that or he’s just plain greedy.” I took another slug of beer. “Maybe both. Hopefully Jacko will be able to tell us. I think Austin was pissed off that his dad left everything to Chloe and decided to right what he saw as a wrong.”
“By stealing from his dad’s partner? An old woman?” Mads looked suitably appalled, and I had to remind myself that hehadn’t grown up and worked in the same world that I had. A world where your father would steal your fucking lawn mowing money for booze if you didn’t hide it well. I stood and took the empty bottle from his hand and pressed a kiss to his hair. “Don’t ever change, sweetheart. Want another?”
Mads shook his head. “A tonic and lime will do fine.”
As I went to fulfil his request, Mads grumbled something about a fucked-up world and what the hell was wrong with us that we kept attracting this kind of shit into our lives. “My life was perfectly boring before you turned up.”
He had me there.
“And we should’ve kept that fire going, it’s getting cold again,” he muttered. “What the hell is up with this fog? I thought grape vines liked it hot and dry.”
“Which the summers are,” I reminded him, smiling at the beep of the heat pump switching on. When I returned with our drinks, Mads was standing under said heat pump, scowling out the window. I sidled up next to him and slid an arm around his waist. “Wanna go to bed and talk dirty under the covers?”
He snorted and rested his head on my shoulder. “So that’s what it’s come down to. We’re staying in a gorgeous romantic vineyard cottage, and the only energy we have left after one round of sex is for a bit of dirty talk.” He turned his head and kissed my neck. “It’s hardly what I imagined in my youth.”
I pinched his waist. “Are you complaining?”
He laughed. “Hell no. Youthful lusting has its place, but give me a warm body, some epic kissing and canoodling, and maybe a massage thrown in for good measure, and that’s a win right there. Not to mention, my arse is a little... sensitive.”
I cradled Mads’ butt cheek and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Aw, does it need a little... first aid?”
Mads shot me a sceptical look. “That’s the first time I ever heard it called that.” His attention strayed over my shoulder tothe bedroom and he frowned. “Jeez, no wonder it’s cold in here. We left the patio door open in the bedroom.”
“What?” My head jerked around, and sure enough, one of the glass patio doors in the bedroom stood slightly ajar. “I’m sure I closed it and I’ll tell you how I know.” I strode over. “I did a walk-through before we left, and I remember checking it and cursing because the latch is a useless piece of shit.” I jiggled the mechanism to show him how the whole thing moved and not just the crossbar.
Mads looked puzzled. “We’re in the middle of a vineyard, a mile from the road. Why would you?—”
“Because of the books,” I reminded him, watching his eyes grow wide.
“The books! Shit!” He raced to the wardrobe and pulled his carry-on down from the top shelf. Opening the zip, he breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s still here.”
So was the rolled-up shipping chart I’d put on the bedside table the night before. I stared at it; almost positive I’d retied the ribbon around it when I was done. Reaching for it, I unfurled the chart slowly on the bed. “Shit. The letter’s gone?”
“What letter?” Mads crossed the room to look at the chart.
“Chloe’s,” I explained. “I was looking at the letterandthe chart in bed last night. When I was done, rather than brave the cold to put the chart back in the tube in the lounge, I rolled it up with the letter and left them there.”
Mads pulled the bedside table out and checked under the bed. “And you’re sure about that?”
“Of course I’m bloody sure,” I snapped, then winced. “Sorry.”
Mads said nothing as he continued to look. “Maybe the place was cleaned while we were out. Maybe they lifted the chart and the letter fell out and got... I don’t know... thrown out as rubbish?” My look said it all and Mads narrowed his eyes. “I’m trying to help here.”
I was being a dick. I pulled him to me and kissed him in apology. “I know. I’m sorry. But it doesn’t explain the open door. And the owner said there was no servicing of the cottage under a seven-day stay.”
“True,” Mads agreed. “But we can’t be sure unless we ask. And you said yourself that the latch is munted. It might have opened on its own or you might not have been as fastidious as you think in checking it.”
