Page 19 of Out of the Shadows (Angelhart Investigations)

Roger Rapperson co-owned a development company in Scottsdale—Fleischman & Rapperson Luxury Homes. The acronym FRLH was well

known in the community, but until today, Margo hadn’t known the names of the principals.

By the time Margo reached their headquarters not far from Logan’s office, she knew exactly why Rapperson had Melissa sign

the NDA eight years ago: He was married, and Melissa was his partner’s college-aged daughter. Tess was feeding her information

on Melissa as she uncovered it. The NDA had no details in it other than the names of the parties and their signatures, but

Thornton’s notes were incriminating.

Rapperson’s bulldog secretary refused to even tell Margo whether he was in the office. Margo knew Rapperson was in the building—she’d

spotted his car in his helpfully labeled assigned parking place. His partner was also in the building, and Margo would use

that to her advantage.

“Tell Roger that John Thornton sent me. If he doesn’t have time for me right now, maybe his wife would be interested in the

information I have.” She handed the secretary a folded note that Margo had hastily written. It was just a name, but it would

certainly put fear into Roger’s heart.

She didn’t want to do what Margo asked, but was green enough that she got on the phone and spoke in a hushed voice. Then she

took Margo’s note and left the lobby.

Her phone vibrated and she read a long message from Tess, growing angrier with each sentence. When the secretary returned,

Margo pocketed her phone.

“Follow me,” the woman said.

“What, no offer of coffee? Water? Champagne?” Margo said. All three had been offered to the couple who had entered immediately

before Margo.

The woman said nothing, only led Margo down the hall, opened Roger’s door, and then firmly closed it behind Margo.

Roger’s spacious office had a view of the McDowell Mountains, which were in sharp contrast to the bright blue sky. He stood

behind his large desk. If he thought that would intimidate her, he clearly didn’t know her.

“Are you with John Thornton’s office?” Roger demanded. She heard an underlying waver beneath his gruff tone.

She sat down even though he didn’t offer a seat. He remained standing, though his spine sagged. He was fifty and she didn’t

know what a college girl saw in him. Sure, he was attractive and fit, but he was nearly twice Melissa’s age.

“I’m going to cut to the chase because I don’t have a lot of time. Tell me exactly why you’re looking for Charlie Barrett

and who you hired to find him.”

Roger paled but kept his voice relatively steady.

“It is none of your concern. If you’re with Mr. Thornton’s office, you’ll understand the legal requirements—”

“Cut the bullshit, Roger. I’m not with Thornton’s office.”

“You said—”

“I said his name. I never said I worked for him. He died a few months back. His files were accidentally stored instead of

shredded, but you knew that.” Margo considered what the Storage Spot manager had told her, and suspected Roger would attempt

to get the files back through bribery before violence. “You tried to bribe the manager of the storage unit to let you take

the files. You tried to pay Charlie for the files, but he didn’t want to part with them.”

“I did no such thing.” He tried, but failed, to sound indignant.

“You don’t get your hands dirty, but you sure as shit hired someone to do it. You had an affair with your partner’s daughter

and paid her a million bucks to have an abortion and remain silent about your relationship. I don’t know if you wanted her

to keep quiet so your wife didn’t find out or so your partner didn’t find out. Probably both.”

Roger sat down heavily.

“So you got your partner’s barely legal daughter pregnant,” Margo continued, “paid her off, and then she dropped out of college

and cut ties with her family.”

“Missy went into the affair with her eyes open,” Roger said, his voice low as he glanced toward his closed door.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure,” Margo said. It all became so clear to her. “She was nineteen, totally legal, but by my math—and I’m

pretty good at math—she was still three years younger than your own daughter.”

He was sweating. Margo was enjoying this way too much.

“I read the NDA and—”

“You can’t! That’s a legal document and—”

Margo held up her phone. She had the rest of the story because Tess had run a background on Melissa and, with a little math,

found the truth.

“Melissa never had the abortion.”

“That’s not true!”

“She had a baby six months after she signed the NDA.”

“She told me—” Then he stopped talking. Because he also was putting two and two together.

“You had an affair with nineteen-year-old Melissa Fleischman. It must have been at the end of her sophomore year that she

told you she was pregnant. You couldn’t have your partner find out, so you gave her a million dollars if she aborted the baby.

She took it. She dropped out of college, cut ties with her family, and had the baby alone.”

“How do you know?” he demanded.

“Like I said, my sister is resourceful. While I was waiting for you to agree to talk to me, she went through all of Thornton’s

notes and ran a background on Melissa. She’s now married to a great guy, and her daughter—your daughter—is seven. She also

had a little boy last year. I’m happy for her, and don’t want to uproot her life, but you know what? I suspect that her dad

would love to know you’re the reason his only daughter disappeared and won’t even talk to her family anymore.”

“Do. Not. I-I-I... Please.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re an asshole, Roger. You’re fifty-two years old and still fucking around with young women. You know how

many NDAs I read with your name on them? Six. And that’s just in the last ten years. You like them between eighteen and twenty-two.

And you’re going to tell me everything I want to know or I’m taking this file—” she held it up “—to your partner and dropping

it right on his desk.”

“I will sue you.”

“I don’t care.”

She wasn’t bluffing. She could do whatever she wanted because the NDA was binding only for Melissa, not Margo.

Ruining this man’s life would be a complete joy.

“I can sue Missy—she was supposed to have an abortion! She lied to me!”

“Sue her. It’s a civil case. It’ll be public record.” Margo could see Rapperson weighing the pros and cons so she said, “If

you sue her, I will give this NDA to your partner. You might get your million dollars back from Melissa, but I don’t think

you’d have a business anymore.”

“What do you want?” he said, voice quivering.

“Did you send one of your people to bid on the storage unit?”

“Yes! So what? He didn’t get it.”

“Did you hire someone to get the files back from Mr. Barrett?”

“Of course! It’s going to ruin me. Andrew will never forgive me.”

“For screwing his daughter? Yeah, I’m sure he won’t.”

“I didn’t rape her.”

“We’ll engrave that on your headstone. I didn’t rape her. That will make Andrew feel so much better.” She really hated this man. “Who did you hire?”

“My lawyer. The company lawyer. He’s discreet, which is more than I can say for you.”

“Ouch,” Margo said. “Bring him in here.”

“I do not take orders from you.”

She held up the file folder. “By the way, this is a copy.”

Roger slammed his finger on his office phone. “Donna, send Floyd in now.”

Without waiting for a response from his admin, he pointed the same finger to Margo. “This should have been over and done with!

I don’t know how Mr. Barrett found out about the storage locker, but if he thinks he can blackmail me...”

“Is that what you think? That he bid on the unit to blackmail you? How would he have known that there was anything in that

unit to blackmail you with?”

“I didn’t even know who he was until Friday when he won that damn auction!”

Margo believed him. Interesting, and it made her wonder how Charlie had learned about the unit. Maybe Jack was right and someone

hired him, or...

“You golf at Saguaro Springs every Thursday, correct?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m curious.”

“Yes. Thursdays and most Saturdays as well. So?”

“Were you there last Thursday?”

“Of course.”

Hand shaking, he reached for a water glass on his desk and sipped. A short, nondescript man in his forties walked into the

room. “Yes, Roger?”

“Tell this woman what happened when you bid on Unit 238.”

Floyd hesitated.

“She has the damn files, and she wants information.”

Margo said to Floyd, “Mr. Barrett bid on the storage unit along with yourself and one other person, correct?”

He nodded once.

“After you lost the bid, did you approach Mr. Barrett to buy the contents?”

“I did. I offered him five thousand dollars for the boxes, and he could keep the furniture. He declined.”

“Do you think he knew what was inside the boxes?”

Floyd shook his head. “No, he seemed rather... well, I wouldn’t say simple , but maybe clueless.”

“Did you get the impression that he was going to use the contents to blackmail anyone?”

“I didn’t really know what to think. He was... giddy, as if he had won a lottery.”

“Did you or anyone on your orders approach him again?”

Floyd hesitated, glanced at Roger.

“Tell her,” Roger grumbled.

“I hired Bishop Securities, a firm we have used from time to time to discreetly handle certain situations.”

“What did they do?”

“They were instructed to approach Mr. Barrett and offer him twenty-five thousand dollars for the files. If he declined, they

were to quietly find and retrieve them.”

Margo considered the Bishop sedan parked outside Charlie’s condo, and the visit with Jack. This didn’t seem the type of firm

to break into a woman’s house and then break her things out of frustration.

Still, she asked, “Did you authorize Bishop to run Mr. Barrett’s wife off the road? Or break into her house?”

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Roger said. “I was happy to pay him anything for the files. Anything!”

Floyd cleared his throat and said, “Ma’am—”

“Angelhart. Margo Angelhart.”

Floyd recognized the name. A lot of people did, especially those in law. He looked at her differently—with a bit more respect,

she thought.

“Ms. Angelhart, I can send you a copy of the report I just received from Bishop Securities and it will show exactly what they

did to locate Mr. Barrett. They have not found him, but indicate that he is currently in Los Angeles and have asked if we

would authorize an expenditure for travel.”

“I would love the report, thank you very much.”

Roger moaned.

Margo wrote her email on the back of her business card and handed it to Floyd. “One more question,” she said. “The third man

bidding on the unit. Did you know him?”

“No,” Floyd said.

“Can you describe him?”

“Would you like the photo I took?”

“Yeah, that would be great.” She liked Floyd and wondered if he knew the real reason Roger wanted the files.

Floyd turned to Roger. “What would you like to do regarding the Los Angeles information?”

“Just drop it. Barrett doesn’t have the files. She does.” He flicked his wrist toward Margo.

“Very well,” Floyd said. “Do you need me for anything else?”

“No. Go.”

Rude, Margo thought.

When Floyd left, Roger asked Margo, “What are you going to do with that?”

“I don’t know,” she lied. “Are you currently sleeping with another college girl?”

“Fuck you,” Roger snapped.

“No thank you.” She walked out.

She headed down the hall to a door marked Andrew Fleischman . She opened it without knocking. A handsome older man in his late fifties sat behind the desk, reading glasses halfway down

his nose.

He looked up. “Can I help you?”

Margo looked around the office. The photos of his family on the wall behind him, free standing frames on his desk. Him, his

wife, two boys and a girl—Melissa—and then grandchildren. He had a small, simple cross on the wall next to a motivational

bible verse, and in the corner a small table for young kids, like you might find in a preschool, with books and games neatly

stacked.

She wanted to out Roger Rapperson to his partner. She wanted Andrew to know the truth about his daughter. She wanted Melissa

to have a relationship with her family again, if that’s what she wanted. Not to be browbeat and intimidated by a predator

like Roger.

But it wasn’t Margo’s secret to tell. It would destroy Roger—which was a big plus—but it would also hurt this man and his

daughter.

Margo couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “wrong office.”