In Death 23 - Born in Death

in with questions, Kraus is careful. And he’s going to see she’s accessed, made copies. Time to panic a little. So you threaten, you bribe.”
    “And set up a double murder, alibied by two people with a vested interest. Two people who are the face of one of the most prestigious and philanthropic charitable foundations in the world.”
    “And who are now accessories to murder, times two. I think I want to have a chat with Bob. Peabody, with me.”
    “Ah, Dallas, always happy to be with you, but I think in this case, you should take your number cruncher. No way I can talk the talk.”
    Eve pursed her lips, studied Roarke. “She’s got a point. You up for it?”
    “Should be fun.”
    “And a big sigh of relief from the math-impaired,” Peabody stated. “McNab and I can work the Tandy Willowby case while you’re talking to Kraus.”
    “Good. You’re on Mavis duty. Let’s move,” she said to Roarke.
    They didn’t find Kraus at home, but his wife interrupted her Sunday bridge game to tell them he was playing golf at The Inner Circle in Brooklyn.
    She was a comfortable-looking woman, spiffed up for the bridge party in baby-blue cashmere.
    “This is about that sweet girl and her darling young man, isn’t it? It’s just horrible. I spent such a lovely little while chatting with her at the company holiday party last December. I hope you find whatever vicious person did this.”
    “I will. You were here that night, entertaining, I understand.”
    “Oh, yes. We had Madeline and Win as our guests. Dinner, some cards. And all that while—”
    “You played late?”
    “Until nearly midnight, as I recall. I was ready to drop. Actually thought I was coming down with something, I was that tired. But after a good night’s sleep, I was fine. We had a lovely brunch the next morning.”
    “Give your wife a little something to help her sleep,” Eve theorized as they drove to Brooklyn. “Plenty of time to get to Copperfield’s, take care of her. Get to Byson’s, do him, get home. Catch a few z’s, then have a lovely brunch.”
    “What did he do with the computers and discs?” Roarke asked.
    “Yeah, there’s that. Hauled them home. Probably has an office there the wife doesn’t fool with. Or he rented a place to hold them until he could properly dispose of them. Only one little hitch with that particular theory though.”
    “Which is?”
    “Robert Kraus has never had a driver’s license or owned a car. Whoever did this had to have private transportation. So he worked with an accomplice.”
    “Bullock or Chase?”
    “Maybe. Likely. Or someone else in the firm. Cavendish or his keeper. It spreads out, the way I see it. One or more people in the accounting firm had to know what was going on. One or more people in the foundation. One or more in the law firm. You said it was an operation. I’m going with that. Where does the money come from? The funds they’re laundering, funneling, juggling? What’s the source?”
    “It’s listed as donations, charitable trusts, privatized income. I couldn’t dig deeper without specific names and companies.”
    “The fees, the percentages. They’d likely be kickbacks, or hush money to the accountant, the lawyer. We’ll need to follow that, because it landed somewhere.”
     
    T he Inner Circle was an indoor golf course and driving range where aficionados of the sport could play a round, practice their putting, and have a friendly drink. For added fees, there were tony locker rooms with sports channels cued into wall screens, efficient attendants, shower facilities, and the services of a masseur or masseuse. The wet area included whirlpools, saunas, a lap pool, steam room.
    They found Kraus in a party of four, on the ninth hole.
    “A few minutes of your time,” Eve told him.
    “Now?” His brows drew together under a tweed golf cap. “I’m in the middle of a round, with clients.”
    “You’ll have to catch up later. Or I could walk along with you,” Eve said obligingly, “and we can discuss the discrepancies in the Bullock Foundation’s account in front of your clients.”
    “Discrepancies? That’s ridiculous.” But he glanced at the woman and two men at his tee. “A moment.” He moved to them, hands spreading in apology. His face was full of annoyance as he walked back to Eve. “Now what’s this about?”
    “It’s about a multimillion-dollar motive for murder. Natalie Copperfield came to you regarding questionable accounts in the Stuben and