Cobb (Lighthouse Security Investigations #9) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,8

and compatible. She felt fortunate to have a physician who worked three mornings a week. Doctor Mark Forbes was able to lower his medical school debts through this part-time position, and the rest of his time was spent at the local hospital. She was thrilled to have a full-time registered nurse, Laurie Mitchell, who was also her best friend. A full-time nursing aide, Mario Rodriguez, and a full-time receptionist, Charlene Porter, rounded out her staff. And for several months, she’d had a social work intern, Sally Garcia, who had settled into the clinic with ease, making Josie wish she could hire her full-time after Sally graduated.

Turning her attention back to the report, she sighed. Her desk was normally free of clutter, but right now it was covered in papers.

Hearing a noise outside her office, she glanced up and saw the person she wanted to speak to as he hurried by. “Caesar!”

The clinic’s part-time bookkeeper popped his head around the doorframe and smiled—at least until his gaze dropped to the report spread out on her desk, and then she could have sworn he winced before covering it up quickly. Now, it appeared his smile was forced.

“We need to go over this together, Caesar. This month’s reports are not making any sense to me.”

He sighed as though realizing his hasty departure was thwarted and walked into her office, sitting heavily in one of the chairs facing her desk. Small and wiry, his hair was still black, no streaks of gray visible. Whenever he came into work, he always wore a dark suit, white shirt, and dark tie. Laurie once joked that he looked like a mortician. Josie had hushed her, sure that he simply preferred a severe professional appearance.

“Josie, I told you that donations were up recently. I would think you’d be happy about that.”

“Yes, but first of all, I don’t understand why they’ve tripled in amount.”

“Perhaps it was from the Governor’s charity event a couple of months ago. I’m sure that helped.”

“I’ve considered that, Caesar. But most of these names don’t match up to anyone that I know or recognize. And what causes me more concern is that the clinic’s spending hasn’t changed, and yet the amount that’s in the bank isn’t any more. If our donations are going up, why aren’t they in the account?”

He lifted his hand and wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow, smiling as he mumbled, “I should see about us lowering the temperature on the air conditioner so that we’re more comfortable.” He chuckled, but it was as forced as his earlier smile.

Caesar Castiel had been the clinic’s part-time bookkeeper for almost a year after the sudden retirement of the person who had worked there since its inception. He owned his bookkeeping business, and she’d been glad he was able to take them on as clients. She had no reason not to trust him but knew that human error could make a huge difference in the running of the clinic if accurate records were not kept. Considering much of the clinic’s finances were supported by donations as well as grants, she felt a strong need to make sure every dollar was accounted for.

Looking back down at the list, she sighed. “Did it not strike you as unusual when you looked at some of these donors? Did you make any calls to check on them? ILT international. Stubbs Contracting. CORE, Incorporated.” She lifted her gaze and pinned him with his stare. “I mean, who are these? There’s no notation by them at all as to who actually made the donation. A couple of them don’t even have tax identifications. I’d like you to take this list and go through every single donation made. Find a name, number, address. Call each one and, if nothing else, thank them for the donation and then ask them all for the identification that we need to have to keep our records straight. And then go back to our expenses over the last several months and see why things are not adding up.”

Another bead of sweat rolled down the side of Caesar’s face despite the air conditioning blasting throughout the clinic. He jerked his head up and down, and she was unsure if he was agreeing or simply wanted to get out of her office. He stood and reached for the papers on her desk.

“You can use your own copies,” she said. What had started as a trickle of suspicion was now growing. “I made these for myself so that