Chapter 3 - The Woman in Blue

"Inside. Now," Eleanor said.

No one argued with her.

Vanessa tried.

"Grandmother, this is ridiculous. She attacked me."

Eleanor looked at the phones pointed in our direction. "There are at least thirty videos proving otherwise. Pick a better lie."

A few guests actually laughed.

Vanessa's face burned red.

Adrian stepped between us. "We need privacy before this becomes a legal disaster."

"It already is," Eleanor said.

She led us into the private penthouse lounge behind the rooftop bar. The doors closed, muting the party.

Inside were Eleanor, Vanessa, Adrian, me, and two security guards.

Martin Shaw was missing.

I took out my phone. "Where's Martin?"

Eleanor's expression sharpened. "Why?"

"Because he recruited me."

Silence.

Adrian looked at Eleanor. "You didn't?"

"I authorized an investigator," she said. "I did not authorize Martin to choose one without clearing the identity with me."

My stomach tightened.

"He told me you requested me personally."

"I have never heard your name before tonight."

Vanessa smiled.

Not a big smile.

A relieved one.

I noticed.

So did Adrian.

"Why are you happy?" he asked her.

"I'm not."

"You are."

She folded her arms. "Because this woman is obviously a fraud."

I pulled my phone from my apron and opened the photographs I had taken. Invoices. Wire instructions. A spreadsheet listing shell companies in Delaware and Nevada.

Eleanor took the phone.

Her face changed.

"These vendor names," she whispered. "I know them."

Vanessa stopped smiling.

Adrian moved closer. "From where?"

Eleanor enlarged one image.

"They were used in my son's divorce twenty years ago."

Vanessa's father.

A man who died in a boating accident twelve years earlier.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

Then my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered on speaker.

Martin's voice came through, breathless.

"Naomi, listen carefully. Do not trust Eleanor. Do not trust Adrian. Get out of the building."

A crash sounded behind him.

"Martin?"

"They know you have the ledger."

"What ledger?"

He went silent.

Then he whispered one sentence.

"Check the bottom of your service tray."

The call ended.

Everyone looked down.

My tray was still sitting on the side table where I'd dropped it.

I turned it over.

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Taped underneath was a thin black flash drive.

And Vanessa whispered, "Oh my God."