Elena’s eyes narrowed. “He claimed the story was just a play for more donations, they’re business as usual, and the charity is not about to close. He welcomed all new donations and called the news story a media beat-up. Christ, the man is a terrible liar.” A look of disdain crossed her face. “He’s trying to tell someone who owns half the world’s newspapers what a media beat-up looks like? They never look like that. Sympathetic and with quotes and photos from the staff? This was a management-endorsed story.”
Felicity nodded. “So the director was lying.”
“Yes. I’m just not sure why. Maybe this is just a way to drive more donations, maybe not. But I want to know for sure. I want to know where my money went because if it’s been embezzled, I’ll be damned if I’ll be taking that lying down.”
“Understood,” Felicity said, on firm ground now that she understood the problem: assess a charity’s full financial status and work out where Elena’s donation had gone. “We can get Thomas in accounts to—”
“Thomas has lost my faith.”
“What?” Felicity blurted. The man had been with Bartell Corp for sixteen years. He was their most senior accountant.
“When I originally made my donation, I had him check that the charity’s books were sound and all was aboveboard. I asked him to personally look into it. I found out today he’d handed that task off to an underling. When I ask someone to handle something themselves, I don’t mean find someone less qualified whom I do not know or trust to…take a stab at it.”
The man was a complete fool. Elena always meant what she said. “Right. Yes, I see.”
“Good,” Elena said, eyes tight. “Now I need someone I trust to investigate what Living Ruff does and how, and determine whether there are any irregularities. Wave around the possibility I might make a donation, should they be less than forthcoming.”
“Charities by law have to disclose to the public their financial status,” Felicity said with a frown. Surely Elena knew that already? “Most post their financial statements on their websites.”
“Of course. And Living Ruff does that, too. It’s also listed on multiple charity-accountability websites as excellent. But you know more than anyone from the deals we do how often a business hides details it doesn’t want disclosed. So it’s simple—go down to that little animal charity and find out where my money went. But I want discretion. I know you can barge in like Rambo to get things done. Can you do delicate, Felicity? Nuance? I want to know whether my new acting COO can problem-solve using a softly-softly approach while far outside her comfort zone. So let’s find out. Show me who you are.”
Felicity blinked. She could be subtle, for God’s sake!
“I am not implying you can’t do it,” Elena said carefully. “I’ve just never given you much scope to test yourself in subtleties or come up with outside-the-box ideas. So I need the problem defined, then a solution for it, and my name kept out of all of it. My best-case scenario involves the fewest people possible aware of what you’re up to and how you’ve addressed it.”
What on earth? Since when did Elena tiptoe around anything? “Why?” she blurted out.
“Felicity,” Elena said with a sigh, “if I wanted to get the police involved, I would have simply called them.”
“You…want to protect the charity?” Felicity asked incredulously. “Even if they’ve misused your donation?”
“Of course not. But good charities can close on the merest hint of investigation. I don’t want that happening if everything is aboveboard.”
“Okay. But what if they are straight-up corrupt? Surely we’d get the police involved then?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Felicity sensed Elena was holding something back. Did she know someone involved in that charity or something? Or maybe she thought it would reflect badly on her if it came out that she’d dumped a lot of money on a charity that was corrupt without doing her due diligence first. Curse Thomas for putting her in that position. He was lucky he still had a job.
“It would be easier for my investigation if you would allow me to tell the charity you’ve already donated and have a right to know where your money went.”
“No.”
Felicity didn’t bother pushing it. Elena had long protected her privacy on the causes she chose to donate to. It was smart; she’d be inundated by people with their hands out if they knew how generous she could be.
“So,” Felicity finally said, almost afraid to ask, “how much did you donate exactly?”
“One point four million.”
Holy hell! Felicity’s eyes widened, and she didn’t entirely manage to stop a choking noise from the back of her throat.
“Mm,” Elena said, voice tight. “So now you see my concern. Get to the bottom of this. And don’t take anything that director says at face value. Dealing with that man was like trying to talk to a sheepdog.”
“A…sheepdog?”
“Exuberant, overfamiliar, and somehow clueless. Solve this for me, Felicity. Show me what you can do.”
“Of course, Elena.” Sudden pride swelled in Felicity’s chest. “You can count on me. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours to get to the bottom of this. I’ll just—”
“Felicity,” Elena said, cutting her off, “I expect you to take a lot more time than that. Take a week or weeks, if you have to. I want thoroughness, as if I were doing this investigation myself. Fine-tooth comb.”
“I— Yes, of course, Elena.” Wait— Weeks? “How can I learn to be your replacement as COO if I’m off with a charity? I can’t do both.”
“All in good time. And I can always extend my time with you if needed when you return.”
Oh. Well. Felicity wasn’t sure how to take that. “So…where exactly is this place?”
“The Bronx.” A slow smile crossed her boss’s face as she slid her gaze over Felicity’s expensive suit. “Maybe…dress down a little when you head over there next week. I mean, if you have that in your corporate wardrobe.”
Felicity’s throat tightened. The Bronx? The actual Bronx? She wondered if she’d start hyperventilating. That did not sound safe. Or clean. Or…nice. Felicity made it her business to only swan around in safe, clean, and nice.
Elena’s eyes were practically gleaming with amusement now. “Good luck.” She took one last sip of her tea and placed the mug on her desk with finality. “We’re done.”
CHAPTER 2
Roller Derby Amazons
Felicity spent the weekend researching everything she could find on Living Ruff in preparation for her visit on Monday. Apparently, it wasn’t a regular charity but rather a foundation set up by a wealthy, clever socialite called Rosalind Stone. Felicity knew her by reputation—a shrewd operator to be dismissed at your own peril—but hadn’t ever met the woman.
