Page 17 of Birdie by the Bay (Wynn Harbor Inn #2)

Harlow’s anonymous message was brief and to the point: “Harlow Wynn is a has-been.” A laughing emoji at the end made it clear the sender wanted her to know they thought she was no longer relevant.

She clicked out of the email and tapped on the sender’s information. It was transmitted through a third-party service with no information other than it being a site to send anonymous emails.

“Clown.” Harlow tried brushing it off. She was no stranger to spam messages, weird ramblings, and sometimes frightening notes that had triggered calls to local law enforcement. Over the years, she and Robert had gotten pretty good at figuring out which ones were a legitimate threat.

This was different. The sender knew her personal email address. Harlow was still trying to figure out who had sent it when Vic reappeared.

“Makena said to tell you hi.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Busy. She’s geeked about visiting, although she’ll only have a couple days.”

“Like two ships passing in the night,” Harlow joked.

“Thanks for extending the invite.” Vic settled into the seat next to her. “What’s with the serious look?”

“This.” Harlow pulled up the email and handed him her phone.

His face grew grim. “Has-been, huh?”

“Only a handful of people have my personal email address.”

“You think it’s from Robert?”

“Robert or Jillian.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” He handed her phone back.

“I’m not. If I had a dollar for every crackpot message I got, I could retire.”

“I met the British gardening lady while I was walking around,” Vic said.

“Lottie Fletcher.”

“She was singing to the flowers.”

“Lottie is a one of a kind. I think my dad likes her,” Harlow confided. “They have a weekly casserole and cards night.”

“It seems to me it would be important to have friends,” Vic said. “As beautiful as this place is, it’s also a little isolated.”

“Which is perfect for someone trying to avoid paparazzi, fans, curiosity-seekers,” Harlow said.

“I’ve been thinking about your accident. Is it possible someone tampered with your car?”

“Tampered with my Ferrari?” Harlow stared at him. “I…reached for my phone. When I looked up, I was in the other lane and a big box truck was coming toward me. I jerked the wheel. The car seemed to be running fine before I crossed the center line.”

“It was just a thought. You never know.” Vic hadn’t come right out and said it, but the implication was clear. Was Robert desperate to get rid of his wife…so desperate he may have considered tampering with her car?

The suggestion chilled her to the bone. “Getting rid of me would solve all of Robert’s problems.” The fact he’d snagged Jillian a part in the upcoming movie meant her husband was moving on to his next big client / partner.

If she was out of the picture, he would get everything. The money, the movie residuals for past work, their properties. The whole enchilada. In other words, Harlow could be worth more dead than alive. “I wonder where the towing company took my car.”

“It’s a place off Sunset Strip in West Hollywood. Got a friend of a friend who works there. Let me see what I can find out.” Vic placed the call and was routed to another person.

On the third try, he reached someone who knew about Harlow’s car. Unable to hear what was being said, she quietly listened to the one-sided conversation. Vic thanked the person and ended the call. “The car was totaled.”

“I heard.” Harlow shivered involuntarily, reliving the moment. “Was it checked over? Is it still at the shop?”

“Nope. Robert signed off on it after the insurance adjuster met him to inspect the damage. They towed it to a local junkyard so it could be sold for scrap. We have no way of telling if the car had been tampered with. I’m sure it’s in a million pieces by now.”

“Thanks for trying. Although, again, the accident was my fault. I doubt we would have found anything, anyway.”

“You’re welcome.”

Harlow finished scrolling through her messages. She found one from Nigel Beckworth. It included an attachment. Pages and pages of the agreement with a note at the end. He was meeting another client on the island and asked if it would be possible to meet with her while he was there.

She quickly replied she was available. After some back and forth, Nigel confirmed the anticipated timeframe.

Harlow started to reply. She had a question, one that had been nagging at her. She dialed Nigel’s number. He picked up right away. “Hello, Harlow.”

“Hello, Mr. Beckworth. I figured I would give you a quick call. I have a question.” Harlow explained how her aunt and friend had gone to the apartment and helped themselves to certain items. “It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

I talked to Robert and told him to put the money back into our accounts.

He reminded me he planned to move it. I forgot. ”

“So the bank accounts are in good standing?”

“As soon as he sends me the information on the updated account. Despite me being relieved he wasn’t trying something funny, things are deteriorating pretty quickly between me and my husband,” Harlow said.

“He’s spreading rumors about me, alluding to the fact I may have intentionally wrecked my car. ”

“You mentioned it during our previous conversation,” Nigel said. “He has no proof. It’s his word against yours.”

“I am concerned about him showing up on my doorstep and causing trouble.” Harlow thought about mentioning the anonymous email but decided against it. It could be totally unrelated.

“We can petition for a restraining order if you think it’s necessary.”

“Not yet, but I might consider it down the road,” Harlow said. “If you give me your travel schedule, Dad and I will make sure we’re home to meet with you.”

“Wonderful.” Nigel promised to forward it as soon as his assistant had everything in order and ended the call.

Harlow started to put her cell phone away when she noticed a text from Aunt Birdie. The coast is clear .

“We can head home. Caleb is gone.” During the return to the cottage, Harlow shared her concerns. Robert would not back down. Not one iota, but neither would she. In other words, it was going to get ugly fast.

As promised, the leftovers sat on the counter. While she and Vic ate, Harlow filled them in. “At least I have a cell phone that works and I don’t have to worry about it getting turned off.”

“What about your bank accounts? Do you think Robert will give you the new account information?”

“He said he would.” After finishing her food, Harlow wheeled her way to her room, grabbed her laptop, and returned to the table. Robert had sent a message giving her the new account information and access codes.

Harlow promptly logged in. With a quick click to view transactions, she confirmed every penny was accounted for. “I have access to the new accounts. The money is there.”

“Woo-hoo!” Aunt Birdie applauded. “We’ll take every small win we can get.”

“I’m going to pay Vic.” Using Venmo, Harlow paid him his overdue salary and prepaid him a month in advance.

“Thank you, Harlow. I know you’re good for it.”

“I’m good for it but Robert might not be, considering he wanted to get rid of you.” Harlow went through their other accounts to make sure he hadn’t tried pulling a fast one.

Their emergency fund was last. She started to click away when a small voice told her to take a closer look at recent transactions.

She skimmed through the list. They were few and far between, which wasn’t surprising considering the account was the designated “cash on hand” emergency account. It was one Robert made deposits into every few months, building the balance over time.

She did a quick check of the money market and savings accounts and then turned her attention to their personal checking account. It listed the usual transactions: mortgage payments, car payments, credit card payments.

Aunt Birdie tiptoed in behind her and leaned over her shoulder. She let out a loud gasp. “Dear heavens.”

“What? What do you see?” Harlow asked.

“A lot of zeroes. What on earth are you paying for?”

“Some pricey real estate. Robert has expensive taste. You should see what our business accounts look like.”

“These kinds of bills would keep me up at night.” Her aunt tsk-tsked. “At the risk of not minding my own business, how often do you use these properties?”

Harlow thought about it. “Not enough to get our money’s worth. For grins and giggles, I’m going to run some reports to see how much money we spend on our lavish lifestyle.”

“It’s a good thing you’re sitting down. No wonder you’re on a hamster wheel.”

“I’m seriously thinking about jumping off,” Harlow said. “Or at the very least, scaling back on non-essentials. I don’t have time to enjoy what we have.”

“Less can sometimes be more,” her father said.

“Here, here,” Vic chimed in. “Harlow is the hardest working woman in show business, and I mean it.”

“She would have to be to keep up with all of this,” her aunt said. “Didn’t I hear you mention something about Robert wanting to buy an apartment in London?”

“He did. In fact, the papers are probably still sitting on the kitchen counter.”

“Thank God you didn’t sign them.”

Harlow closed out of the personal account and logged into their business checking account.

Going back ninety days, she studied each transaction.

Hairdresser, makeup artist, Janice the publicist, dinners at “the club,” Robert’s monthly gold club fees, Rodeo Drive store purchases.

Everything to cultivate their image and Harlow’s brand.

Working her way down, she kept noticing a specific dollar amount being deducted on the 29 th of each month. Not astronomical, but substantial enough to catch Harlow’s eye. “I wonder what this is.”

“What?” Her father slipped his reading glasses on.

“This $6,500 payment.” Harlow dialed the bank’s main number and asked to be transferred to someone who could give her details about a specific transaction.

“Ciara speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hello, Ciara.” Harlow briefly explained the reason for her call. “I’m reviewing transactions and wondering about one in particular. It doesn’t look familiar.”

Ciara jotted down the information and asked Harlow to hold. She returned a short time later. “I was able to pull up the payment details. Do you have a pen handy?”

“I do.” Harlow grabbed a pen and notepad. “I’m ready.”

The bank representative rattled off the information, and Harlow nearly fell out of her chair.