Page 13 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

“Except for Edmund,” Annie said, watching her friend’s expression.

“Yeah, Edmund,” she agreed without smiling.

Annie felt her heart ache for her friend. That Denise was unhappy in her marriage to Edmund was obvious, but no matter what opening Annie gave her, Denise said nothing and Annie felt helpless.

“Well, at least tall, dark and sullen is a good tipper,” Denise said, returning to the front of the shop. “Not to mention cute.”

“Cute?” Annie asked.

“I’m married not dead,” Denise said with a faint smile.

“Same thing,” Annie muttered as she watched the door swing closed behind her friend.

Marriage. What a ridiculous institution. Everyone she knew who was married wanted out and everyone she knew who wasn’t married wanted in. Except herself of course. She knew better. Her sister’s marriage aside, she didn’t know one happily married couple.

Why put yourself through all of the heartache and angst? If she wanted that much permanent pain and anguish in her life, she’d get a tattoo. A big one. Better yet, if she wanted a long-term relationship, she’d get a desert tortoise. They lived for sixty years and they hibernated for six months of the year. A perfect relationship.

Her thoughts strayed to Stewart. Maybe if he’d hibernated for six months of the year, she’d have been able to marry him. But his constant presence had soon become an irritant. His incessant nagging about the shop had made her crazy. He’d wanted to turn her quiet little haven into a booming franchise like Mucho Latte with chains all over the city. Ugh! He didn’t understand at all.

She’d done her time as a pastry chef at the posh Lemon Grove Resort in Scottsdale. She’d won numerous awards and been written up inBon AppetitandGourmet.It had been a glamorous and arduous existence and she had hated it. She wanted a slower pace of life. She wanted to cook for people who didn’t need a gold card to eat.

But Stewart couldn’t understand that. He was an entrepreneur always looking for a quick buck. When they’d first met, he’d been fun and supportive. But as their relationship had grown closer, he’d begun to press her about her business interests. Annie didn’t think of The Coffee Break as a business. It was more than that. It was her baby.

A picture of Fisher sitting at the counter flashed through her mind. He had looked right sitting there as if he belonged. His hair had been wet from his recent shower and when she’d refilled his coffee cup, she could smell the damp scent of his shampoo mingling with his aftershave. It was spicy and very masculine.

She’d felt him watching her but had convinced herself that it was all in her mind. But Denise’s observation made her pause. Did Fisher find her attractive? It was laughable. That man could have any woman in Maricopa County. Why would he be interested in a red-haired, freckled baker? Still, she couldn’t forget the way he’d winked at her and said her name in that deep growl of his. Feeling a grin part her lips, she resumed beating her muffin dough into submission.

“Look at this,” Brian greeted Fisher as soon as he walked into the office. “Solid evidence, my friend. Your little coffee perker is definitely guilty of laundering.”

“What?” Fisher frowned, throwing his jacket over the back of his chair and reaching for the papers Brian was examining.

“The question is who is she laundering for? And why would they use her shop as a front? She can’t have that much money going in and out the door. Not to cover the kind of laundering we’re looking at.”

Fisher scanned the paperwork in his hand. Had someone spiked his coffee? Because suddenly the room was spinning. The bank statements in front of him didn’t lie. The discrepancy between her income and her net worth was too large to ignore. The difference in what she reported to the IRS and what she was actually earning was equivalent to a mansion on Camelback Mountain. There was no doubt about it. It was so blatant, it was almost defiant.

Fisher sank into his seat with a shake of his head. Despite the stereotypical red hair, Annie hadn’t seemed like that much of a wild card to him and certainly not a felon.

Could she have gotten in over her head when trying to open her business? It had happened to more than one restauranteur. He’d seen it a dozen times. Restaurants came and went unless they had a loyal following or a lot of backing. That’s why they were so perfect for money laundering. They were a cash-based operation and it was difficult to match the costs of providing food with the revenues they pulled in.

But these records screamed fraud. With a sick feeling, Fisher dropped the papers onto his desk. “Where did you get these?”

“I searched FinCEN. You know, the Financial Crime Enforcement Network, to track any reports filed under the Bank Secrecy Act. The BSA requires disclosure of any large currency transactions. She has several in and out of a secondary account for The Coffee Break. We can nail her with this.”

“I want to wait,” Fisher said.

“What? Why?” Brian pushed his glasses back up his nose and ran a hand over his thinning hairline. “We have all the evidence we need.”

“No, there’s something more going on here,” Fisher said. “I want to watch for a while and see what I can uncover.”

“Oh, no.” Brian dropped his head into his hands.

“Oh, no, what?”

“You’ve got a thing for the cappuccino pusher, don’t you?”

Fisher leveled his partner with a glare. “I do not have a ‘thing’ for her. And even if I did, have I ever let my libido do my thinking for me?”

“No,” Brian agreed. “But there’s always a first time.”

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