The Witness by Terry Lynn Thomas

Author:Terry Lynn Thomas [Thomas, Terry Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2021-03-05T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Mark

Wednesday, January 7

Mark Engstrom returned to his office after his lunch date with the lovely and ever so corrupt Brenda Eldridge, certain he was being followed. In fact, he wouldn’t have been surprised had someone been watching him while he ate his lunch. Not that he cared. After barking out an order for a single espresso to the bimbo who answered his phone and served as general dogsbody, he scurried back to his office and shut the door. Once there, he’d peered through the blinds at the street below. Sure enough, there was the same gray Taurus that he had seen in the parking lot at the restaurant. Well, he wasn’t sure it was the same car, but how many Fords were there in Mill Valley, the land of Mercedes and BMWs?

Ever calculating, his thoughts strayed to his bookkeeper, Brenda, the only person who was privy to his financial shenanigans. Would she turn on him? If she had been approached by the SEC with a promise of immunity in exchange for her cooperation, would she betray him? If I go down, she goes with me.

Grabbing the Zeiss binoculars his father had given him for high school graduation so many years ago, Mark peered through the lenses to the car across the street and nearly toppled backwards when he saw a man using binoculars watching him. Gasping in surprise, Mark closed his blinds all the way before he repositioned the binoculars and continued to watch until another man in a cheap suit got in the passenger side and the car sped away.

A sheen of sweat had formed on Mark’s face. He swiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve and cursed out loud.

“Here’s your coffee. And Mr. Seymour’s here.”

“Mr. Seymour?”

“Your 2:30? New client? Wants to open a trust fund for his grandson?”

“Thank you. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

She didn’t say anything as she closed the door and left him on his own. He was tired of the women in his life. Melinda, the bimbo, and Brenda the bookkeeper with her doom-and-gloom financial reports. Yes, he was in trouble. But he’d been in trouble before and had somehow managed to sort it all out. Reaching for a fresh button-up shirt and undershirt, he stripped naked from the waist up, went into his private washroom and splashed cold water on his face.

As he dressed, he thought of the soft-spoken man he’d met at the last fundraiser he and Melinda had attended. After doing a little digging, he’d discovered Mr. Cyril Seymour had inherited an exorbitant amount of money from a long-lost uncle. Mark smiled at himself in the mirror. With any luck, he’d get the sweet old guy to write a check for a couple of million. Everyone wanted a piece of his business. His strategy had been brilliant, keeping it exclusive, making investment opportunities by invitation only. He’d used the funds from the initial round of investors – those who never dipped into capital – to pay out exorbitant interest rates to newcomers.

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