Page 4 of Nothing Hiding

"My father was getting these payments at random times. All of them are round numbers." Juliette paused, letting the significance of that sink in, feeling the knowledge crushing her. She wanted so badly to share this burden but knew at the same time that she was being disloyal to her own memories of him by admitting to this.

That didn't matter. She was going to hunt down the truth. Her own sense of justice, one of her strongest characteristics, didn't allow otherwise.

"Like what?"

"Eight thousand euros from H. Winkler, two months before Dad died. Then, eight months earlier, ten thousand euros from someone called Abramovic. Go back three months, and there's a payment of twenty thousand and another of four thousand, one from Hellier Investments and one from Philippedes." She sighed. "I'm trying to trace these people, to find out who they are."

Lucien was silent. "Do you know for sure the payments were made to him?"

"My father listed them in the book. I don't have access to his bank accounts. Those details are long gone. But I imagine the police would surely have checked his bank account for any irregularities, so perhaps they were made somewhere else. Into another account?"

She let out a deep, shaky breath. Confronting this knowledge was eating away at her.

"That is very concerning," he said.

Juliette nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "I know. I feel like I'm uncovering something I wasn't supposed to. Like I'm digging up secrets that were meant to stay buried. But I'm going ahead all the same, trying to find out who these people are, and if they have any connection to Dad."

Lucien's voice was gentle. "You don't have to do this alone, you know. You can talk to the police. Let them investigate and perhaps reopen the case. They may have more evidence or even be able to explain those payments. It's their job."

"I know, but I want to know too. I need to know. This is my father we're talking about, Lucien. I owe it to him to find out what happened."

There was a pause and then Lucien's voice came through, his words measured, "I understand. But be careful, okay? If you go digging, you don't know who you're dealing with."

Juliette heard the warning in his voice and understood it. Her father had been brutally murdered. And, if one of these names listed in the ledger had been a criminal organization covering its tracks, they wouldn't blink at covering them again.

Perhaps it was better to leave it. Lucien's words were tempting.

But then her computer pinged.

The search she'd been doing was over, and it had gotten results.

CHAPTER TWO

“I’ve got something here!” Juliette said, the words coming out louder than she’d expected.

"What is it?" Lucien’s voice was loud and concerned as she put the phone onto speaker so that she could scroll through the results that had just come up.

"Hellier Investments. There's a description here for the company."

"And? What company is it?"

"It says here that it closed down five years ago after the authorities intervened. From the report here, it was a shell company," Juliette said, her voice shaking. "It was registered in the Cayman Islands, and it was suspected of being a front for money laundering and illegal activities."

"Oh, no," Lucien said. "Oh, no, Juliette." He paused. "This couldn't be an investigation your father was doing into someone else?"

That was the hope she'd clung to also. For a while. But with the salary payment listed, too, and the outgoing expenses—there was no doubt in her mind.

"His salary's on the list. Other things, too, our expenses. The mortgage for our home, back in the States, and other properties. My mother's retirement fund. My expenses, the savings for me to go to Oxford University."

Her voice shook.

She'd always known she was lucky to get such fine schooling which she had thought must have been an ambassador’s perk. Although her father had lived and worked in his overseas postings, he'd also been able to afford a luxurious home in a good area, back in the States, as well as a couple of investment properties. There was the small beachfront apartment in Mykonos that was never without a tenant or guest, and there was the home in Sardinia that had a permanent renter, for now, and there was property in the south of England, a small farmhouse on ten acres, leased by a local farmer who ran his chicken business from there.

She'd inherited the proceeds from them. The income was her nest egg in an investment account. She'd always felt she was fortunate to be from a well-off family, even though she wasn’t a materialistic person and had always shunned life’s luxuries. Now, with a sick feeling, she was realizing she might not have been from wealthy roots, and that the money might have ended up in her dad’s bank account through irregular and corrupt means. Her hands were shaking as she closed the book, unable to look at it anymore.

"That is not good," Lucien admitted.

"He listed it as a payment. Why was an illegal shell company paying my dad money? What was he involved in? There's no good reason for this, Lucien. No good reason at all."

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