Bree shook her head.
Nolan smiled. “Not surprising. We’re a hedge fund that prides itself on its low profile. We’re incorporated in Delaware with offices on Wall Street and in Paris.”
The president of Bluestone said to Bree, “I’ve told them you speak fluent French with a Caribbean accent.”
Bree nodded. “My mother was from Saint Martin.”
“I also told them you are one of our star investigators, and they wanted to meet you in person.”
“I’m delighted, and I appreciate the confidence, Elena,” Bree said. Nolan introduced her to the two younger women, and Bree reached across the table to shake their hands.
When she sat back, she glanced at Slattery and saw a slightly sour look on his face. He obviously considered himself one of Bluestone’s star investigators as well. For a second, Bree wondered why Slattery hadn’t gotten this assignment, then pushed the thought aside. She smiled at the clients. “How can I be of service?”
Anna Tuttle, an attractive, sandy-blond young woman in a blue business suit, said, “You can help us get our son-of-a-bitch CEO fired.”
Cassie Dane, a buxom redhead with porcelain-pale skin and ice-green eyes, said in a sweet Southern accent, “Or, better yet, put Philippe’s ass in prison with men who will not be kind or gentle.”
“There’s something I should explain first, Ms. Stone,” the corporate attorney said. “I am here at the request of the board of directors of Pegasus to determine whether our founder, CEO, and chairman Philippe Abelmar is guilty of sexual harassment—”
“He definitely is,” Anna Tuttle said.
“And a serial abuser of women—”
“That too,” Cassie Dane said, her cheeks reddening.
“And quite possibly an embezzler,” Nolan said.
Tuttle looked a little disgusted as she nodded to Bree. “We appreciate Ms. Nolan being here, really, we do, but just so you understand, the rumors of sexual harassment have been flying around Philippe forever. And yet it wasn’t until the suspicions about missing money surfaced that the Pegasus board decided to hire someone to investigate.”
Nolan’s jaw stiffened. “Philippe Abelmar is a powerful, charismatic man, and France is a different country with different moral views than our own. But I admit he held sway over the board despite the rumors about his inappropriate activities until they saw evidence that he may have siphoned off as much as four hundred million dollars.”
“Four hundred million?” Bree said, her brows rising.
“See?” Tuttle said to Dane. “It’s all anyone cares about.”
The Southern belle pushed back a wayward lock of red hair and shrugged. “I honestly don’t give a damn what finally drug ’em to the dance, Anna. I just want that man’s testicles in a vise. And maybe some public shaming while we’re at it.”
Slattery winced at the testicles-in-a-vise comment before clearing his throat and looking at Pegasus’s corporate counsel. “My specialty at Scotland Yard was economic crimes and forensic accounting. I’ll be working the money end of things in Manhattan and London.”
Tuttle said, “London’s where I worked after Paris.”
“Where we all worked after Paris, hon,” Cassie Dane said.
Chapter
7
The three women explained to Bree how it worked at Pegasus. Recruiters in the company’s Wall Street offices tended to choose pretty Ivy League co-eds for their internship programs.
After a year of training in the science of modern finance, the young women were rotated to Paris, where Philippe Abelmar oversaw their continuing education in the art of making money.
Anna Tuttle said, “For six months it was all about the philosophy, beauty, and inherent goodness of capitalism. And the value of knowing numbers—whether we were up or down and how we were going to take advantage of subtle changes in the markets. If you were particularly bright, you were made special personal assistant to Philippe.”
“Nothing to do with brightness and I know it,” Cassie Dane said. She gestured at her chest, saying, “Sure, I went to Penn, but that pervo Frog just liked my girls.”
Both women described the Paris office as a culture where conversations were often laced with sexual innuendo. Abelmar encouraged the behavior, believing that tension between coworkers was a good thing, especially if it was rarely or never relieved.
“He flirted with me for months,” Anna Tuttle said. “I tried to keep it professional, but Philippe made it impossible. Being his personal assistant meant I was always at his side or on call—at work, at his apartment, or on his jet.”