you discover, Sara?” he asked.
She pondered the request for the merest split second. “Your Tom Pepper is nothing more than a high-rolling con man, Rosco. That’s the information I needed to share with Belle.”
“What—” Rosco began, but Sara cut him off.
“I have now conferred with several old and trusted friends, all of whom had the misfortune to invest in your Mr. Pepper’s G.O.L.D. Fund. Although initially reluctant to broach the subject, they eventually overcame their embarrassment. Money is not something we WASPs are comfortable discussing . . . At any rate, the result of my inquiries is this: The G.O.L.D. Fund is a total sham. It’s no more than a sophisticated Ponzi scheme—similar to the one perpetrated on the world some eighty years ago by that horrible Charles Ponzi.”
Rosco stared into space. “You’re certain about this?” he finally asked.
“Do you mean about Mr. Ponzi’s fraud or the ‘reliability of my sources’—I believe that’s the correct term? Is that what you’re asking me?”
Rosco hesitated. “Yes, I guess that’s what I’m asking.”
Sara’s reply was frosty. “Neither I nor my friends are in the habit of spreading malicious rumors—”
“I didn’t suggest they—”
Sara barreled past the comment. “My friends and I have concluded that Pepper has been using monies from new investors to repay clients with a prior claim: an ever-revolving pool of the naive, the hopeful—or the greedy. Naturally, the scheme relies upon maintaining the strictest secrecy as to investors’ identities. It wouldn’t do for them to publicly discuss their portfolios’ shortcomings—which made my ferreting out of information all the more arduous.”
Again, Rosco tried to interrupt; and again, Sara ignored him.
“After a good deal of heated discussion amongst my companions and me, we reached the opinion that it’s a matter of weeks, or perhaps even days, before Pepper’s entire machine collapses. I needn’t remind you, young man, that these people are among Newcastle’s wealthiest individuals . . . They sit on the boards of every corporation and charitable institution in this town. How this nouveau snake charmer was able to hoodwink them will remain a mystery to me. I spotted him as a ne’er-do-well at first meeting . . .”
Suddenly Vic Fogram and his panicked telephone call fell into place. But recognizing the connection between the Red Admiral’s owner and the CFOs of Newcastle made Rosco feel a deeper concern for Belle’s safety. “Belle was aware of your activities, I take it?” he asked.
“Of course! But, as I mentioned, we thought it wise, given your position with Pepper—”
Rosco groaned in frustration. “I wish you’d had the confidence to share your suspicions with me earlier.”
Sara didn’t respond for a long and wounded moment. When she spoke, her words sounded surprisingly chagrined. “You don’t think this Pepper character would—”
“Pepper’s brother-in-law is dead, Sara. His wife is missing, along with Miss Nevisson and a saloon owner who also had invested with him. I don’t know what type of crime—or crimes—we’re dealing with, but I do know that amateurs and homicides don’t mix . . . Now, what exactly were you and Belle planning to do with the G.O.L.D. Fund information?”
“I hope I haven’t done anything to put that girl in jeopardy . . .” Tears, or what sounded like tears, clogged Sara’s voice.
“I’ll find her,” Rosco said.
“I know you’re crazy about her.” The redoubtable lady paused; Rosco could hear worry slowly give way to pragmatism. “It’s high time you two made a stronger commitment to one another.”
Rosco shook his head. A quiet smile crept over his face. “I’m working on it, Sara. I’m working on it . . .”
“In my day—”
“Sara!”
Silence again filled the phone line, broken, at length, by Sara’s contrite: “Belle’s extremely fond of you, you know.”
“I know,” Rosco answered.
“And she’s a perfectly lovely girl.”
“I know that, too, Sara.”
“I’m not intruding, Rosco. I’m simply stating obvious facts.”
“Let’s return to your information on Pepper,” Rosco answered.
“Oh, I supplied the police department with all my findings,” was Sara’s airy reply. “That delightful Lieutenant Lever spoke with me.”
“What?” Rosco didn’t know which statement was more astonishing: Sara’s admission that she’d already told Lever—or that she described him as “delightful.”
“We had a most erudite conversation.”
“With Al?”
“Is there another Lever on the force?”
Rosco shut his eyes tight. He was beginning to think he’d been trapped in an ancient Burns and Allen routine.
“I informed the lieutenant that accusations of fraud could, and would, be backed up in a court of law. I told him that my friends—all leading lights in this city—were more than willing to come forward with evidence.