The Perfect Frame Read online

  Indigo

  An imprint of Genesis Press, Inc.

  Publishing Company

  Genesis Press, Inc.

  P.O. Box 101

  Columbus, MS 39703

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, not known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of the publisher, Genesis Press, Inc. For information write Genesis Press, Inc., P.O. Box 101, Columbus, MS 39703.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.

  Copyright© 2007 by Beverly Clark

  ISBN-13: 978-1-58571-544-2

  ISBN-10: 1-58571-544-1

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition

  Visit us at www.genesis-press.com or call at 1-888-Indigo-1-4-0

  DEDICATION

  I want to thank my children, Catana, Alvin, Jr., Dayna, Ericca and Gloria for being there for me and always believing I could do the impossible. And my friends, Terri, Zuolga, and Lillian for their encouragement.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’d like to thank Poison Control in Atlanta, Georgia for their help and suggestions. And my friend, Registered Nurse, Doris Smith, and my daughter, Catana Clark, who helped me with the medical aspects of the murders. Also mystery writer, Paul Bishop, who encouraged me to write this book.

  PROLOGUE

  As Toni Carlton rode the elevator to the tower suite, she was more than a little curious to know why the president of the company had sent for her. He certainly didn’t approve of her. In fact, he had made that patently clear on more than one occasion.

  Toni had to smile because she was sure it irked the old die-hard chauvinist to admit that she had proven she was good enough at her job to vie for the hallowed position of director at Townsend’s Stock Brokerage and Investments (TSBI). She could count on one hand the number of female directors there had been. One was Townsend’s sister-in-law and the other a daughter of one of the board members. Was it possible he had decided to extend the proverbial olive branch to her?

  Toni tensed when the elevator door opened. Expelling a nervous breath, she steadied herself and stepped out onto the knee-deep, royal blue plush carpet. As she walked down the hall, the blue silk wallpaper, overlaid with an opulent cream and gold-braided design, made her feel every bit as uneasy as Mr. John Victor Townsend Sr. intended her to feel. As one of a small, elite group of successful black businessmen to head up a brokerage firm of this magnitude in California, he wanted all who worked for him to be respectful of his power.

  When Toni arrived at the executive office suite, Mildred Frances, Mr. Townsend’s personal secretary, greeted her with a smile that was professional, yet at the same time coolly mocking.

  “Go right in, Ms. Carlton.”

  As Toni walked over to the door, she looked back at the woman, wondering if that smile meant she was in for a hard time. Squaring her shoulders, she turned the knob. When she stepped inside, she found Mr. Townsend standing before a floor-to-ceiling window with his back to her. Toni cleared her throat and waited for him to acknowledge her presence. After a few long moments, he finally turned around. Her eyes widened in shock and concern at the distressed, sickly pallor of his face. He took several unsteady steps toward her.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Townsend?” Toni asked.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The cup he was holding slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. When his eyelids started to flutter, and he began to sag, Toni rushed toward him, intending to catch him in her arms, but his weight drove them both to the floor. Coming onto her knees, Toni quickly loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt collar.

  “Mr. Townsend, can you hear me? Is there some medication I can get for you?”

  “I—was—wrong—about—” He gasped. “Tell—tell…”

  “What, sir?”

  A gurgling noise resounded deep in his throat, and then spittle dribbled from his mouth and down his chin.

  “Miss Frances, call 911,” Toni yelled. “Mr. Townsend—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, his eyes closed and he was still. Toni screamed.

  The secretary came rushing into the room. “I called 911.” She gasped when she saw Mr. Townsend’s head cradled in Toni’s lap. “What happened?”

  Toni gazed up at her. “I’m not sure. He just collapsed. I—I think he’s dead.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Three Months Later

  Mackinsey Jessup eyed John Victor Townsend Jr., the newly made president of Townsend Stock Brokerage and Investments with curious dislike. One thing for sure, he was a sorry imitation of his father. Mack had worked for the company five years ago under the senior Townsend, but sensed that working for the son would be a different proposition entirely.

  Townsend cleared his throat. “As I mentioned when I contacted you, Mr. Jessup, I have found discrepancies in several of our premier accounts. I suspect an embezzlement scam is going on within the company. Will you take the case?”

  “I’m considering it.”

  “Look, Jessup, if you—”

  Mack watched as Townsend nervously moved his fingers through his thin salt and pepper hair.

  “If I take the case,” Mack cut him off, “the investigation will be handled my way, with no interference from you. Got it?” He smiled at the look of affronted dignity and controlled anger on the other man’s face. He could tell that Townsend was aching to rescind the request for his services. But Mack was sure he wouldn’t do that because he knew that Jessup Financial Investigations—specializing in corporate theft—happened to be the best in Los Angeles, in the state, Mack would go so far as to say. It was no brag, just fact.

  “All right, Jessup,” Townsend conceded through stiff lips. “Handle this your way.”

  “Good. Now the first thing I need you to do is get me a copy of all the portfolios that have been tampered with, or that you suspect have been tampered with. Oh, and I’ll need to check out your account books, personnel files, computer disks, printouts; in essence, everything.”

  Townsend’s exasperated brown eyes suddenly brightened. “Don’t you want to know who I suspect is the thief?”

  Mack arched his brows speculatively. “You have proof to support your allegations?”

  “No, but—”

  A sardonic smile curved Mack’s mouth. “As I said before, Mr. Townsend, leave the investigating to me.”

  “How soon do you want the information?” Townsend gritted out.

  “Now would be a good time since all of the employees have left for the day.”

  “But that means that I’ll have to personally—”

  “Retrieve the information? Exactly.”

  * * *

  As she sat eyeing the stack of reports and sales figures yet to analyze, Toni sighed and brushed back stray wisps of wavy black hair that had escaped from her upswept hairstyle. The thought of working overtime this evening didn’t appeal to her at all. She enjoyed her job as personal assistant to the CEO, but sometimes…

  Pat Davis, the department’s executive secretary, glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost quitting time, Toni. You’re not working late again tonight, are you?”

  Before Toni could answer, Hank Warren, the other personal assistant to the CEO, walked over to them and answered.

  “Of course she is. Have to rack u
p those brownie points. Right, sweetheart? Lucky for you old Townsend conveniently up and died.” He smirked. “Damn lucky, I’d say. It was like you arranged it. Sure you didn’t knock the old guy off?” He laughed, then cleared his throat and said, “You think you’ve got it made now, don’t you, Miss Efficiency? Save your energy, Toni. That directorship is as good as mine.”

  “You mean because you’re male? That’s not a prerequisite to success anymore, Hanky Panky,” Toni said in a sugary-sweet voice. She watched his eyes flash and his jaw clench with barely suppressed temper, knowing good and well how much he hated being called that. Toni shifted her attention back to Pat, completely ignoring him, and smiled. “In answer to your question, Pat, not tonight.”

  Toni’s phone buzzed. She picked up the receiver. “Yes, Mr. Clifford. If you need them for tomorrow’s conference meeting, then of course I can stay. No problem.”

  “You’ll be here alone with the boss,” Hank said thoughtfully. “Could it be those brownie points will be racked up in, shall we say, more personal ways?” The look he gave Toni before arrogantly striding from the office was riddled with amused malice.

  “Whew! If looks could kill,” Pat quipped.

  Toni shrugged. “Do I look like I’m scared?”

  “You really shouldn’t call him Hanky Panky to his face, even if most of the girls in the company do it behind his back.”

  “Maybe not, but the man is so full of himself I couldn’t resist.”

  Pat shook her head, then turned off her computer. “I’d better get moving. Joe’s waiting for me downstairs, and tonight I don’t dare be late. It’s Monday. You know what that means.”

  “Monday night football!” they chorused.

  “What it really means is that I’ll be relegated to playing waitress and serving my armchair quarterback popcorn and beer while he watches the game. I’m an executive secretary, for crying out loud.” A comic pout shaped her lips and mock resentment tinged her voice. “You’d think I’d risen above that. But not as far as Joe is concerned.” She glanced at Toni. “So it looks like you’re going to be working overtime after all.”

  “Mr. Clifford needs my help.”

  Pat plowed on. “For the last six months, no, make it the last year and a half, you’ve worked late three or four days out of every week. You bucking for sainthood by way of an early grave?”

  “Neither. I don’t mind the extra work, so give it a rest, Pat.”

  “Is the possibility of getting the promotion what’s driving you so hard?”

  “It’s not the only reason.”

  “You’re out to prove something, then.”

  “No woman starts at the bottom of the success ladder and reaches the position I have in so short a time without drive and ambition.”

  “And don’t forget hard work, above and beyond the call of duty. I hope Mr. Clifford appreciates the sacrifices you’re making, like putting your love life on the back burner.”

  “Joe is waiting for you, Pat,” Toni reminded her.

  She sighed. “You’re right, and he is.” Pat grabbed her purse and sweater, then sliced her friend a curious look. “You do have a love life, don’t you, Toni? You do go out?”

  “On occasion.” Toni averted her gaze.

  “When was the last time?” Pat asked in a coaxing voice intended to draw out confidences.

  “Pat!”

  “Oh, all right,” she said, slipping her purse strap over her shoulder. “I’m outta here.”

  As Toni watched her friend leave, a feeling of relief washed over her. She liked Pat, but sometimes…Toni glanced at the clock. If she hurried and finished the requested stock analysis, she could be ready to leave in an hour. Admittedly, she was beginning to feel more stressed lately. Maybe the long work weeks were getting to her, but it would all be worth it once she got the promotion.

  Toni had worked for TSBI three and a half, going on four, years. She’d started out as a stock and investment consultant trainee, and in the short span of three years she’d taken classes and had worked her way up to assistant to the CEO, Frank Clifford. He had promised her a bright future if she could prove she was up to the challenge. Despite Hank’s asinine insinuation that she was sleeping her way to the top, they both knew she was doing a damn good job. And that was what really rankled people.

  It was Toni’s dream to carve a permanent niche for herself at Townsend’s. Most of the people—the majority of them in the top positions at Townsend’s—stayed on until they retired. More than anything, she wanted job security, a feeling of belonging, permanence, something she’d rarely experienced in her twenty-six years.

  Toni got up from her seat and walked over to the coffee machine to pour herself a cup. She drank her coffee black, allowing no additives to dull her senses. It was all-important that she be sharp, alert and ready for any challenge. She carried her coffee to her desk, sat back in the chair, and after a few swallows of the strong, steamy stimulant set the cup down and swiveled her chair around to face the computer screen. Then she accessed the accounts portfolio menu, then went right into the Harper Bond Exchange file.

  She was ready to begin the sales comparison and stock analysis, but what she saw a minute later made her eyes widen in confusion. The sales figure for the common bonds this month and the previous two should have been recorded on the fifteenth. She checked the codes against the names on the bonds. They matched, but when she punched in confirmation, it showed they had been confirmed on the sixteenth in the two previous months. She would have to ask Pat about these entries. Evidently the dates or the codes or something had been wrongly entered.

  How odd.

  Pat was too good at what she did to overlook a mistake like this. Toni frowned. There had been similar instances in other accounts, but every time she’d gone in to investigate and shown it to the CEO, he had logically explained them away. So maybe she was going looney tunes.

  All right, girl, get back to work so you can go home, fix yourself a quick dinner and relax in a hot tub.

  Toni moved on to the next report. But the Harper account continued to prey on her mind. She stopped, cleared the screen and brought up the account again to check the percentage figures. According to what she was seeing the bonds had sold at 60% of their market value. But no details of the transaction had been recorded. She shook her head, wondering why they hadn’t been.

  “I’m ready to leave now, Toni,” Mr. Clifford announced. “Have you finished the report?”

  At the sound of her boss’s voice, she shifted her gaze away from her computer screen and glanced up at him. “I have a few more things to check out before I’m done, sir. It won’t be much longer.”

  He smiled, easing his hip onto her desk. “I’ve asked you to call me Frank.” He cleared his throat as he continued to watch her. “You’re certainly a conscientious young woman. It’s a rare quality these days. I can tell you. I intend to see that you are amply rewarded.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Now, none of that sir business. Call me Frank.”

  Toni’s smile faltered and she hurried to complete the report, waited for it to print, then handed it to him.

  He took the report and checked through it.

  Toni watched him. Something about the man disturbed her, even though she couldn’t quite put a name to it. He seemed fair and supportive of his employees, her anyway. And he was an attractive older man, but there were times when she felt weird vibes coming from him.

  He smiled, nodding his head. “As usual, you’ve done an excellent job. Come on, let me walk you out.” He waved his hand for her to precede him.

  Toni ached to examine the Harper account in more depth, but it would have to wait.

  * * *

  Several days after the monthly board meeting, Toni was in the hall outside the boardroom when she noticed the rigidity in Mr. Townsend’s steps as he walked over to the elevator. She felt sorry for the man. His latest proposal had been shot down. It had to be a humiliating experience
for a company president. He was certainly not the force to be reckoned with that his father had been. For one thing, he lacked the man’s innate ruthlessness. Even though the senior Townsend was dead and his son was now president and chairman of the board, it was as though he were pulling strings from the grave.

  “Maybe I was wrong about you playing hot and heavy with old Frank to get the promotion, Toni,” Hank said, walking up behind her. “The way you were eyeing his son just now leads me to believe that you’re setting your goals higher these days. Maybe it’s Nina Townsend who should be worried.”

  “Has that thing you call a brain taken up permanent residence in the sewer, Hanky Panky? To you nothing is sacred, is it? You must want that promotion awfully bad.”

  “And I’m going to get it, too, never fear. No one, especially a woman, has ever beat me out of anything. And I don’t intend to let a new trend get started.”

  “There’s always a first time for everything. And you won’t always be able to stop the wave of the future, Hanky.”

  “Don’t call me that, damn it!”

  The look in his cold, black eyes and harshly handsome African-American features chilled her to the bone. The menacing look on his face was so frightening, she jumped when he shifted the subject to the death of the elder Townsend.

  “I wonder if a stroke was what really killed the old man. Maybe he was having an affair with you and it proved to be more than his body could handle.” A nasty grin distorted his face. “You were alone with him when he died. I wonder, sweetheart, are you pretty poison or what?”

  With that he walked away, leaving Toni seething.

  * * *

  “I’m glad you suggested we eat Italian today, Toni,” Pat commented.

  “Me too.” Toni grinned. “Even if I don’t know what I want to order.”

  “Just the thought of Mr. Angeletti’s lasagna makes my mouth water,” Pat confided as they followed the hostess.

  The Italian Kitchen was Toni’s favorite restaurant. And not because she happened to be part Italian. The prices were reasonable, the pasta was the best in town. The hostess showed them to a table near the garden, just off the outside terrace.