Page 28 of All The Wrong Notes

“You were cautious before, and I understand that. Can you trust me now? I won’t say I don’t enjoy all this,”—she peered around at the luxurious room they were in—“but I’d be just as happy if you had a little shoebox apartment like mine, as long as there was room for me.”

“I…” He gasped again, and then broke out in a huge laugh. “Are you trying to kill me? I’m struggling to be good like a gentleman, and you’re intent on ruining my virtue!”

She laughed with him. “I never was a good influence. I’m the girl your parents should have warned you about. Your virtue has no hope. What else would you like me to ruin for you?”

He flipped over, and they both landed on the softly carpeted floor. “See what you made me do?”

His smile shone from his eyes, and she used her position to push the unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders.

“Are you trying to freeze me to death now?”

God, she loved to hear him laugh. His life had contained far too little laughter. Hooking one shin around his legs, she pressed herself up into him. “I can think of some ways to help keep you warm. Think you’re up for it?”

His eyes went dark. “Watch what you’re saying, woman!”

Oh yes. He was definitely up for it. She kissed him again, and then tickled his ribs just to see his reaction.

There was sex, and there was making love, and then there was sharing every ounce of joy you had in you. If Will was tentative at first, she encouraged him with words and action, until they both lay satisfied on the rug by the fire, neither one even a bit cold, still laughing together.

“I’m afraid you’re used to men with more experience than me,” he blushed. “That one unhappy relationship was a while ago.”

She rubbed his nose with her own. “Do I look displeased?” His eyes almost glowed. “Still, it’s like music. Practice makes perfect. I think we need to do a lot of rehearsing together.”

He nuzzled his head against hers. “Any time. You somehow always manage to hit the right notes.”

* * *

Elise was now as happy as she could remember. Work, music, and her private life were all wonderful. Her arts centre was doing well, she and Will were planning another set of concerts, and she spent as much time at his house as at home.

Everything was perfect. Until that morning near the end of February, when a phone call sent her world crashing into the pits of hell.

CHAPTER 12

DISASTER

It had been a normal morning so far. Elise had arrived at work, checked her email, sorted through a few documents, and enjoyed a quick coffee with Gwen. Then the phone rang.

“Ms Benzion?” a voice asked. “This is Kiran Singh from the bank.” She named the branch where the arts centre had its accounts. “There are some irregularities that have come to our attention. Can you come in for a meeting?”

And with these innocuous words, the nightmare began.

Money had gone missing from the Queen City Arts Centre’s accounts. Lots and lots of money. As a place set up as a non-profit, where income generated from space rental was fed right back into programming, this was not a fortune that would sink empires, but it was enough to sink the Queen City Arts Centre. They needed money to pay staff and the professionals who came in to help with the kids. They needed money to pay for taxes, utilities, heating, grounds maintenance, art supplies, instrument repair, and general upkeep. Even the fundraiser concert required a healthy outlay of funds. It was all gone.

Even the recent donation of that parcel of land, worth millions, had disappeared from the centre’s assets. The Land Registry Office reported that the property had been transferred to a new owner the previous week, and the money from the sale never deposited into the arts centre’s accounts.

“The only person with access to the documents to enable the sale,” Ms Singh had stated, “is you, Ms Benzion.”

The words hit her like a brick.

“What?” She gaped at the banker. “I don’t understand.” The syllables swirled around her, like wraiths in a maelstrom, not quite tangible, almost real, but their essence just beyond her grasp.

“To put it plainly, Ms Benzion, the evidence suggests that you have stolen millions of dollars from the Queen City Arts Centre.”

If she had not been sitting down, Elise would have collapsed.

“I didn’t… I couldn’t!” Her mouth moved without sound; she must look like a gaping fish. “How…? Oh my God!”

Ms Singh sat there, looking at her.

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