Chapter 7: He Checks Everything

Tavish was eating when I called him.

He answered with his mouth full. "If this is about the delivery schedule, I already sent you the revised figures."

"It's not."

"Then it can wait until I've finished."

"Come to my office."

There was a pause. "Should I be worried?"

"Only if you've done something stupid."

"That doesn't narrow it down."

He hung up.

I put my phone down and returned to the documents on my desk. Vespera's proposal was still there, along with the notes she'd left behind. I'd read them twice the previous evening and once again that morning. Some of her suggestions were obvious. Others were irritatingly specific.

The water storage issue, for instance. I'd already requested an expansion estimate, but she had noticed that our projected capacity was based on the number of people we currently employed, not the number we intended to shelter.

It was a mistake. Not a catastrophic one yet, but a mistake.

I disliked discovering it from someone who had walked into my office without an appointment and proposed marrying me.

Tavish arrived fifteen minutes later, carrying a paper cup and looking as though he'd been interrupted in the middle of something important.

"You said office. I'm here."

"Close the door."

He did, then dropped into the chair opposite me.

"Who are we investigating?"

"Vespera Wynn."

His eyebrows rose. "The woman who wants to marry you?"

"That's the one."

"Right." He took a sip of coffee. "I was hoping you'd say that was a joke."

"Her background. Finances, business dealings, previous relationships. Everything we can verify legally."

"Anything in particular you're looking for?"

"Anything that doesn't fit."

Tavish put his coffee down. "She's not a criminal, Severin. You can just say you don't trust her."

"I don't."

"At least we're making progress."

I slid a folder across the desk.

"Start with her companies and property transactions. Check her debts, outstanding obligations, and business partners. I also want to know whether she's recently been involved in any litigation."

"And the previous relationships?"

"Find out what you can."

Tavish opened the folder. "You know, most men investigate a woman before asking her to marry them."

"I didn't ask her."

"She asked you?"

"Yes."

He stared at me for a second, then laughed.

I waited.

"Sorry," he said, still smiling. "I just wasn't expecting that."

"Are you finished?"

"Almost. Did you say yes?"

"No."

"Good. I haven't decided whether I like her."

"Your opinion wasn't requested."

"That's never stopped me before."

I pointed towards the door. He stood, gathered the folder, and stopped before leaving.

"One more thing. Do you want me to look into why she's suddenly interested in emergency supplies?"

"Yes. Find out what she's been doing over the last few weeks."

He nodded and left.

I returned to Vespera's notes.

The first supplier agreement she had questioned was already bothering me. I'd signed off on the arrangement after our procurement team confirmed the company's delivery history. According to her, that wasn't enough. She wanted proof of current stock, alternative transport arrangements, and confirmation that the supplier hadn't committed the same inventory to another buyer.

I called Perrin Dacre, who handled our purchasing records.

"Pull the agreement with Northbridge Industrial."

"Anything wrong with it?"

"I want the current stock confirmation and the transport arrangements."

"We have both."

"Send them to me."

He sounded mildly offended. "We checked them last week."

"Then it shouldn't take long."

The documents arrived twenty minutes later.

I read the supplier's confirmation, then opened the transport agreement. The inventory had been confirmed by the supplier, not independently inspected. The transport company had also reserved the right to revise its delivery schedule if another client required priority access.

I called Perrin again.

"Did you see this clause?"

"Which one?"

I read it to him.

He was silent.

"That wasn't in the summary I received," he said eventually.

"Clearly."

"I'll contact them."

"Don't warn them that we're reviewing the contract. Get the actual warehouse records first."

I ended the call and leaned back.

Vespera had been right.

I wasn't pleased about it, but pretending otherwise wouldn't change the paperwork.

At eleven, Tavish returned with the first part of his investigation. He placed several printed pages on my desk.

"She's financially sound," he said. "No obvious debt problems. Her businesses are registered, her tax records are in order, and she has legitimate experience in commercial property and procurement."

"Any suspicious transfers?"

"Not that we've found. She's moved some money recently, but the transactions appear connected to property and business preparations."

"How much?"

He gave me the figures.

I studied them. They were substantial, but not reckless. She had liquidated some investments and redirected funds into assets that could be useful if supply chains became unreliable.

"She's been doing this for weeks?" I asked.

"Yes. The change is recent. Before that, her financial activity was fairly ordinary."

"What about her personal life?"

Tavish shifted in his chair.

"She's married."

I looked up.

"To whom?"

"Corvin Wynn. They've been married for several years. There are no divorce proceedings on record, although their recent financial activity suggests some disagreements."

"Any connection to our project?"

"Nothing direct so far."

I returned to the pages.

"Does she have a history of unstable behaviour?"

Tavish gave me a look. "You mean, apart from proposing marriage to a man she's met twice?"

"Just answer."

"No medical or legal records suggesting anything unusual. Her professional references are decent. People who have worked with her describe her as competent, demanding, and not particularly patient with people who waste her time."

That sounded familiar.

Tavish tapped the folder.

"There's one thing I can't explain. Her recent behaviour is almost entirely different from her previous routine. She's been making inquiries about emergency storage, generators, medical supplies, and transport contracts. She's also been looking at properties outside the city."

"She told me she was preparing for a major emergency."

"Did she tell you what kind?"

"No."

"Then we're still where we started."

I closed the folder.

"Not entirely."

He glanced at me.

"Her supplier concerns were valid. Northbridge's transport agreement is weaker than the summary suggested. I want every major supplier checked again."

Tavish looked down at the papers.

"So you believe her?"

"I believe the documents."

"That's not the same thing."

"No. It isn't."

He picked up his coffee. "What happens if the investigation comes back clean?"

"I'll decide what to do about the marriage."

"And if it doesn't?"

"I'll ask her."

Tavish shook his head. "You make everything sound simple."

"It usually becomes complicated when people stop checking the details."

He was about to leave when his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen, frowned, and read something again.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Something odd."

He turned the phone towards me. It was a message from one of his contacts, someone who handled discreet commercial enquiries.

"Someone has been asking questions about Vespera's recent financial activity," he said. "Not through official channels. They wanted to know which assets she's moving and whether she's withdrawing money from her businesses."

"Who?"

"That's what I'm trying to establish. The inquiry came through someone connected to her household."

I looked at the message again.

"Her husband?"

"I don't know yet."

I stood and walked around the desk.

"Find out who made the inquiry. Don't approach them. I want to know what they asked and who they reported to."

Tavish nodded, his earlier amusement gone.

After he left, I looked at Vespera's proposal again.

She had walked into my office with a plan, challenged my preparations, and offered me a marriage I hadn't asked for. I still didn't know what she was hiding, but I was beginning to understand that dismissing her would be a mistake.

I picked up my phone and opened her contact.

My thumb hovered over the call button.

Then I put it down.

If someone was watching her money, she might already know.

And if she didn't, I wanted to find out who had started looking before I warned her.