Verity appeared speechless, her eyes wide and fixed on Lucas. “Whatdid you say?”
He took pity on her. “Let’s get this done. Time to move on to other things after that.”
She stumbled over the doorstep, and he caught her just in time. “Careful.”
“Sorry,” sighed Alastair. “I’ve been meaning to replace that mat for a while.”
“It’s fine,” she said, shakily. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine, isn’t it?”
Alastair blinked at her, curiously. Then he glanced at Lucas. “Ahhh.” He smiled. “I understand. But for now let’s get down to business. We have much to discuss.”
“Do you know about last night’s incident, Alastair?” Lucas led Verity inside and followed Alastair to his study.
“Last night? No...what happened last night?”
Verity, having managed to regain her countenance, sat near the desk and related the happenings, through the art show, the donations, and Tabby’s near-brush with a thief.
“Mrs Monroe...she’s not hurt?”
“Just a few bruises, a scratch, and probably a headache this morning. But it could have been much worse.” Verity frowned. “And that, on top of what Lucas and I discovered separately, created an interesting pattern.”
“Oddly enough,” began Lucas, “Verity and I were working separately but along the same lines. I was evaluating some calculations, and she was working on her charitable accounts.” He paused. “And we both found something wrong.”
“Nothing concrete, you understand, Alastair, but—as before—an awkward timing, an odd shift that was barely noticeable...”
“And I had some numbers that I knew should add to a certain total, but they were shy by a farthing or less.”
Alastair nodded. “All verifying my theory. With your input the picture comes together.” He sat behind his desk, as Lucas took the chair next to Verity.
“And what does the picture look like to you, Alastair?” Verity posed the question that Lucas was just about to ask.
The older man leaned back. “Well, the first part of the pattern is your charities, Verity. You have several, all in individual accounts, but held under one umbrella, if you will. That produces a bottom line that is...let’s say quite sizeable, and therefore ideal for fractional losses that reconcile cleanly. A good candidate for an account that wouldn’t miss a tiny amount here and there, especially when the numbers appear correct.”
“So you’re saying the timing, the rounding down, and the shifting of money, has been targeting my charities?”
“It’s possible.” Alastair leaned back and steepled his fingers. “We have no way of knowing at this point whether other similarly sized accounts may also have been targeted.”
“Such as?” Lucas frowned.
“Let’s say, for example, the theatre. A new show at the Great Arcvale opera, starring the most extraordinary soprano anyone’s ever heard.”
“Ticket sales would go through the roof...” Verity’s voice tapered off.
“And there it is,” agreed Lucas. “A very well-thought-out plan, offering not the chance of instant wealth, but a constant increase in income. Steady, regular, unnoticeable.”
Silence fell for a few moments, as all three considered the magnitude of what they’d discovered.
“Great coggles, Alastair,” whispered Verity. “What kind of money are we talking about?”
He thought for a moment or two. “Truthfully, my dear, I can’t even begin to hazard a guess. But I’d be quite willing to say... lots.”
Lucas nodded. “I don’t think we can estimate anything at this moment. But as we pursue this matter—and we will—maybe we’ll have a better sense of what we’re looking at in the way of losses and/or gains, which will, in turn, lead us to the source.”
“I asked this earlier of Lucas,” said Verity to Alastair. “Is there a way to associate a date with an activity we know to be suspicious?”
“Hmm.” Alastair frowned for a few moments. “We might be able to do that with some of the most recent ticks we’ve noticed...”
“What will that gain us, Verity?” Lucas looked puzzled.
