money was reported to the IRS. The only one who didn't know about it was her husband."
"In that case, there are two other schemes I've heard of. If she was the one laundering the money, not the one producing the illegal cash in the first place, she could have done something with fake invoices or run the money through a cash-intensive business like her husband's insurance agency. She'd have needed Ralph's cooperation for that last one, though, and I can't see him agreeing to anything illegal."
"How do the fake invoices work?"
"The person with the illegal cash would write up a fake invoice, as if Angie had bought something from him, usually services, which are hard to prove were never provided. So, for instance, he'd write a fake invoice for fixing Angie's home computer, and if anyone asked, she'd say she'd paid him for the work."
"That's backwards, though," Helen said. "Angie's the one with the documentation for receiving money."
"Maybe she was the one with the illegal cash."
"As far as I can tell, she only has the documentation, not the actual money."
"Then either she wasn't engaged in money laundering," Tate said, "or she was really bad at it."
"It was just a theory." Discouraged, Helen carried the photograph Ralph had given her over to her computer and placed it on the scanner bed. While the equipment warmed up, she said, "My first thought was that the money was from gambling, anyway. Angie wouldn't have known how to explain the winnings to Ralph when she's supposedly got religious objections to gambling, so she might have stuffed the cash into a mattress instead of a bank."
"If I were in court, I'd point out that you're indulging in speculation, not offering any admissible evidence."
"I don't have any admissible evidence," Helen said in frustration. "Isn't there a pre-trial stage when you're still brainstorming a case, establishing a theory and gathering up evidence? That's what I'm doing now."
"Fair enough," Tate said. "It's called discovery."
"That's it. I need to discover more about the company that paid Angie. They might know where Angie is."
Tate appeared to be warring with his better instincts and then spoke cautiously. "What's the company's name?"
"SLP. Recognize it?"
"I've heard the initials in a couple different contexts. The first time was when a client did something stupid and had his gun collection confiscated. One of the weapons was called an SLP, or self-loading pistol. A British import, apparently."
"And the other time?"
"Nothing criminal," Tate said. "The local library gets me to contribute to it every year: the Summer Library Program. I've never heard the letters used to describe a business, though."
"No one else has, either." Helen pushed the button to scan Angie's picture. "The Secretary of State could probably find them, but I've lost touch with my best contacts there. My niece Lily might have better luck."
"That's it?" Tate said suspiciously. "You're going to sit back and let Lily do the work for you?"
"While she's following that lead I'll be checking out the casino where Charlene dropped Angie off."
"Have you ever been to a casino before?"
"Sure," Helen said. "My ex-husband was taken on tours of the most successful places every time the issue of legalized gambling came up in the legislature. I went along a few times."
"What did you play while you were there?"
"Nothing."
"But now you're going to take up gambling in order to find Angie?"
"I still need a retirement hobby," Helen said. "I could learn to play poker."
"No, you couldn't," Tate said. "You couldn't bluff someone to save your life."
"Slots, then. They don't take any skill."
"Which is why you'd be bored with them in three seconds flat." Tate glanced out the front window at Jack, who was lovingly polishing the hood of the luxury car. "Casinos are easy to get lost in. If you're going to have any chance of finding Angie, you need to narrow the search to wherever she's most likely to be. Do you even know what games Angie
"In that case, there are two other schemes I've heard of. If she was the one laundering the money, not the one producing the illegal cash in the first place, she could have done something with fake invoices or run the money through a cash-intensive business like her husband's insurance agency. She'd have needed Ralph's cooperation for that last one, though, and I can't see him agreeing to anything illegal."
"How do the fake invoices work?"
"The person with the illegal cash would write up a fake invoice, as if Angie had bought something from him, usually services, which are hard to prove were never provided. So, for instance, he'd write a fake invoice for fixing Angie's home computer, and if anyone asked, she'd say she'd paid him for the work."
"That's backwards, though," Helen said. "Angie's the one with the documentation for receiving money."
"Maybe she was the one with the illegal cash."
"As far as I can tell, she only has the documentation, not the actual money."
"Then either she wasn't engaged in money laundering," Tate said, "or she was really bad at it."
"It was just a theory." Discouraged, Helen carried the photograph Ralph had given her over to her computer and placed it on the scanner bed. While the equipment warmed up, she said, "My first thought was that the money was from gambling, anyway. Angie wouldn't have known how to explain the winnings to Ralph when she's supposedly got religious objections to gambling, so she might have stuffed the cash into a mattress instead of a bank."
"If I were in court, I'd point out that you're indulging in speculation, not offering any admissible evidence."
"I don't have any admissible evidence," Helen said in frustration. "Isn't there a pre-trial stage when you're still brainstorming a case, establishing a theory and gathering up evidence? That's what I'm doing now."
"Fair enough," Tate said. "It's called discovery."
"That's it. I need to discover more about the company that paid Angie. They might know where Angie is."
Tate appeared to be warring with his better instincts and then spoke cautiously. "What's the company's name?"
"SLP. Recognize it?"
"I've heard the initials in a couple different contexts. The first time was when a client did something stupid and had his gun collection confiscated. One of the weapons was called an SLP, or self-loading pistol. A British import, apparently."
"And the other time?"
"Nothing criminal," Tate said. "The local library gets me to contribute to it every year: the Summer Library Program. I've never heard the letters used to describe a business, though."
"No one else has, either." Helen pushed the button to scan Angie's picture. "The Secretary of State could probably find them, but I've lost touch with my best contacts there. My niece Lily might have better luck."
"That's it?" Tate said suspiciously. "You're going to sit back and let Lily do the work for you?"
"While she's following that lead I'll be checking out the casino where Charlene dropped Angie off."
"Have you ever been to a casino before?"
"Sure," Helen said. "My ex-husband was taken on tours of the most successful places every time the issue of legalized gambling came up in the legislature. I went along a few times."
"What did you play while you were there?"
"Nothing."
"But now you're going to take up gambling in order to find Angie?"
"I still need a retirement hobby," Helen said. "I could learn to play poker."
"No, you couldn't," Tate said. "You couldn't bluff someone to save your life."
"Slots, then. They don't take any skill."
"Which is why you'd be bored with them in three seconds flat." Tate glanced out the front window at Jack, who was lovingly polishing the hood of the luxury car. "Casinos are easy to get lost in. If you're going to have any chance of finding Angie, you need to narrow the search to wherever she's most likely to be. Do you even know what games Angie
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