Page 41 of Not the Bodyguard's Widow
Faster than you’ll ever know.“Are you asking if I was ever unfaithful to Jeremy? No. I didn’t meet Alex until recently. And yes, it was a very short engagement.”Less than two hours.
“Well, if your husband married you for your money, he might not see it anytime soon.”
“Why?”
“We are taking steps to freeze all of Thompson’s holdings, including any accounts in your name.”
“The money I get writing and illustrating as Leigh Benz was never commingled with my husband’s. He had no idea how much money I have. We filed separately. I didn’t even use his investment firm. Is it to be frozen too?”
The two agents looked at each other. “Sorry, ma’am. Your funds will be frozen as well. You understand we keep finding new accounts and they need to be examined.”
“Why? It should be obvious from Hawthorn Thompson’s interview this morning that he has no clue I am Leigh or how much money I’ve made in the past five years.”
“Just for the duration of the investigation.”
“I earn thousands of dollars in royalties a day. Will I be able to access those funds when my check arrives at the end of the month? Part of my reason for talking to you is so I can come out of hiding and access my money. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a growing responsibility.”
The agents looked at each other. Alex’s Uncle spoke. “As I understand it, Leigh Benz is under contract with one of the big New York publishers. Are any of them under investigation?”
“No, sir.”
“Tell me, in your investigation, has Leigh Benz’s name ever come up?”
“No.”
“Then I suggest a forensic accountant go over the Leigh Benz accounts in the next few days. If all the funds in the accounts match those from the publisher and have been reported properly to the IRS and not commingled, as Mrs. Hastings has told you, her funds can be unfrozen as soon as possible.” Deputy Assistant Director Hastings carried an air of authority. Kimberly wanted to stand at attention and shout ‘Yes, sir!’—and he wasn’t even addressing her.
“We will need to talk to our assistant deputy director about that,” answered Agent Danes.
“I am sure you will. I expect that with the cooperation of Mrs. Hastings and her lawyer, clearing her funds shouldn’t take long at all. Do you have any more questions for Mrs. Hastings?”
The agents shook their heads.
Kimberly leaned forward. “I have one. For days, my father-in-law has been appearing all over the media insinuating everything from me being insane to the FBI wanting me in connection with my husband’s death. I would like your help in clearing my name. When I am done here, I intend to walk into one of Chicago’s affiliate TV stations and have my own little news conference. I would like someone to make a statement that I am not a person of interest. I don’t need every doctor I see thinking they are dealing with a felon.”
Agents Danes and Garcia nodded.
“We can do better than that. We can call the press conference from our press room downstairs if you would like,” said Alex’s uncle.
“That would be much better. I am eager to clear my name.”
Agent Garcia leaned forward. “You will still need to be careful. We don’t know who killed your husband or his FBI contact.”
The room went black.
* * *
Alex studied the books on his uncle’s bookshelf. Not the collection he expected. Intermingled with subjects ranging from forensic DNA studies to famous FBI cases was a full set of C. S. Lewis books, including the Space Trilogy. The same agent who’d shown him into the room interrupted his snooping. “Deputy Assistant Director Hastings would like you in the conference room. Follow me.”
Kimberly sat in a chair with a blood-pressure cuff on one arm and a half-empty single-serve bottle of orange juice in her other hand.
“What happened?” Alex asked.
Kimberly opened her mouth to answer, but Uncle Donovan beat her to it. “The agents in California wanted to gauge your wife’s reaction to certain information. They failed to consider her condition, and she fainted.”
An agent removed the blood-pressure cuff. “Probably dehydration and low blood sugar. But I would call your doctor.” She handed Alex a sticky note. “Her pulse and blood pressure from when I first arrived and now. Your wife’s OB might want it.”
Alex crouched down in the spot the agent had vacated at Kimberly’s side. “How are you feeling?”
