"I appreciate that, Mr. Templeton. Ms. Powell, I'd like it if you'd answer a few questions, so I can get this all straight in my mind." He gave her a kindly, avuncular smile that made her insides quiver. "I'm going to read you your rights. Now that's just procedure, just the way we have to do things."
He recited the words that anyone who had ever watched an episode of a police drama from Kojak to NYPD Blue knew by rote. She stared at the tape recorder, silently documenting every word, every inflection.
"You understand these rights, Ms. Powell?"
She shifted her eyes, stared into his. The curtain was up, she thought. Damned if she was going to blow it. "Yes, I understand."
"You worked for the accounting firm of Bittle and Associates from…" He flipped pages in a small dog-eared notebook, read off dates.
"Yes, they hired me straight out of graduate school."
"Harvard, right? You got to have a lot of smarts to get into Harvard. I see
you graduated as a Baker Scholar, too."
"I worked for it."
"Bet you did," he said easily. "What kind of stuff did you do at Bittle?"
"Tax preparation, financial and estate planning. Investment advice. I might work in tandem with a client's broker to build or enhance a portfolio."
Josh lifted a finger. "I want it on record that during my client's employment at this firm she increased business by bringing in accounts. Her record there was not only unblemished, it was superior."
"Uh-huh. How do you go about bringing in accounts, Ms. Powell?"
"Contacts, networking. Recommendations from current accounts."
He took her through the day-to-day business of her work, the questions slowly paced, quietly asked until she began to relax.
He scratched his head, shaking it. "Me, I can't make a damn bit of sense out of all those forms Uncle Sam wants us to fill out. Used to sit down with them every year, all spread out on the kitchen table. With a bottle of Jack to ease the pain." He grinned winningly. "The wife finally had enough of that. Now I take everything up to H & R Block in April and dump it on them."
"That makes you very typical, Detective Kusack."
"They're always changing the rules, aren't they?" He smiled again. "Somebody like you would have to understand rules. And how to get around them."
When Josh objected to the tone of the question, Kate shook her head. "No, I can respond to that. I understand the rules, Detective Kusack. It's my job to recognize what's black and white, and where the shades of gray are. A good accountant uses the system to circumvent the system when possible."
"It's kind of a game, isn't it?"
"Yes, in a way. But the game has rules, too. I wouldn't have lasted a month at a firm with Bittle's structure and reputation if I hadn't played by those rules. An accountant who doctors tax forms, or cheats the IRS endangers herself and her client. I wasn't raised to cheat."
"You were raised right here in Monterey, weren't you? You were the ward of Thomas and Susan Templeton."
"My parents were killed when I was eight. I—"
"Your father had a bit of a financial problem before his death," Kusack commented and watched Kate's face go sheet-white.
"Charges brought and never resolved concerning my client's father twenty years ago have no bearing here," Josh stated.
"Just background, counselor. And an interesting coincidence."
"I wasn't aware of my father's problems until recently," Kate managed. How had he found out so quickly? she wondered. Why had he looked? "As I said, both my parents were killed when I was a child. I grew up in Templeton House in the Big Sur area." She took a quiet breath. "The Templetons didn't consider or treat me as a ward but as a daughter."
"You know, I'd have figured they'd have taken you into the Templeton organization. A woman with your skills, and they've got all those hotels, the factories."
"I didn't choose to join the Templeton organization."
"Now why was that?"