Corporal Evans asked, "Did you try other spellings?"

"I did." Constable Cheng shrugged. "And I Googled the ancestry sites, finding no such surname."

The corporal asked Cynthia to reconfirm the spelling, and while she opened her computer, I pulled out my phone. Then thumbed-in, I went to Google Translate, selected Detect Language and typed Babbeona. "It means sucker and dupe in Italian."

"Fuck!" Cynthia shook her head. "I'm the sucker. The dupe."

"We'll get him."

"How, Lorne?" She blew a deep breath. "We don't even know his name."

He pointed to her computer. "You have the email files. E Division's cyber geeks can work at tracing them."

The corporal nodded and said, "We can send those to them."

Lorne shook his head. "Thanks, but it's better from my computer; I have a direct pipeline to the task force."

"What else can we do for you?"

"When the Municipal Office opens tomorrow, check their records on the restaurants, Avanté and Suprême."

The corporal winced. "Avanté's owner and chef were found dead last month. No leads."

"Follows the pattern." Lorne grimaced. "Frank had planned to reopen it next week as Suprême."

As Cynthia's trembling increased, I pulled her into a hug, murmuring in her ear, "We'll get them."

Lorne continued, "Learn all you can about a possible bankruptcy, any change of ownership, property lease, business licence, health inspection, and so on. You'll likely find more spurious names and some numbered companies, but anything you find will assist E Division with their analysis."

While the two men discussed details, I focused on comforting Cynthia, and when she had calmed a bit, she said, "So different from the image he presents. Gentle and quiet. One of those wouldn't-harm-a-flea types."

"Likely part of a polished façade – used to gain trust and confidence. How did he deal with his staff?"

"I never saw any of them – always dealt directly with him."

"In his office?"

"No, either in mine or at the restaurants."

"What about his dealings with the restaurant staff?"

"Nothing unusual, but I saw only the interactions at the pre-opening meetings with the managers."

"And with the chefs."

"Only at La Luce, the first restaurant, where we refined the menu descriptions. After that, Frank explained that with the menus identical, there was no need to include them."

"How often did you meet?"

"After La Luce, the routine became a meeting with Frank to set the date, sign the contract and decide on which menu items to present at the opening. Then I'd meet with him and the manager an hour before the event."

"What? That's all?"

Cynthia winced. "Yeah, to create the seating plans and oversee the table arrangements. Then greet, mingle and do farewells."

"So, he wanted only your reputation and mailing list."

She nodded. "To legitimise his scam. I should have suspected – the money was too easy."

"And this evening. What led up to his abandoning you? Was he angry about something?"

"More disturbed than angry. And he raised his voice. Atypical." She undid the top two buttons of her blouse, reached in and pulled out a small device. "We can listen to him here. Forgot to turn it off, so we'll have to scroll back."

"Oh, wow! You recorded him?"

"A habit I got into – I used to miss things while focusing on writing notes. But people lack candidness when they know they're being recorded, so I clip this to my bra."

"We can listen to it with Lorne when he finishes." I looked up to see him still engaged with the corporal, and I listened for a while. Then when they paused, I interjected, "Lorne, we may have something of more immediate interest here."

He and the corporal turned their attention to me, and I pointed at the small recorder. "Cynthia taped her meeting with Mr Sucker."

She clicked a button. "His phone call came while we discussed whether Saturday evening or Sunday noon would be better. Let me scroll back to find that."

After a few scrolls and listens, she let it play: ... urday evening will get better numbers. They can do some bike runs before and more on Sunday. I'll include links to sites in the invitation to entice. Block some rooms, get a discount and pass it ... "Here it is. This is where he pulled out his phone and looked at the screen."

Sorry, I must take this ... Rinaldi. In a meeting. Call Santoro ... What? ... No! How? ... "He listened for a long time here, becoming increasingly jittery." Burn bridges. DC red. Call Santoro, Fontana, Palum ... "This is when he got up and left the table, still speaking into the phone."

When Cynthia had paused the playback, Lorne asked, "Do you know who Rinaldi, Santoro and Fontana are? Anyone beginning with Palum?"

She shook her head. "He always called the managers by their surnames, but I don't recognise any of these."

I pointed to the recorder. "Scroll back a bit, Cynthia. Listen to how he says Rinaldi."

As it replayed, we all nodded, and I said, "That's not a greeting. It's his name."

"Definitely." Lorne smiled. "And much better than Sucker."

Cynthia chuckled, then her face turned serious. "Burn bridges – that's us, isn't it?"

He nodded. "But we're safe. Beyond his reach."

She pointed at the pen. "He knows I'm at the police station."

"Only if the chip was being monitored as we arrived and before I disconnected the battery." Lorne shrugged. "But you remained at the restaurant for nearly an hour, so they likely stopped monitoring and focused on having your hotel room ransacked, searching for your computer and files."

"Yeah."

"People like him usually travel with security. Some goons to protect and to do the dirty work as needed. They likely watched for you to leave the Four Seasons and to arrive at your hotel."

Corporal Evans said, "I can send a squad to observe and record. Where were you staying?"

"The Listel." She opened her purse, took out a card, and handed it to him. "Room three twenty-one. See what of my stuff has survived. Maybe bring it here – not wise for me to go get it."

"If they've entered, we'll need to record evidence, take fingerprints and –"

"Before you commit your staff to that, it would be better to have this area swept for suspicious activity." Lorne pointed at the wall clock. "It's late, and we should head up to my place. Not a good idea for them to watch us leave. Also, do a bug sweep on us."

While we waited for the security and bug sweeps, Cynthia asked, "Would it be possible to get the room's reservation details from the front desk? Rinaldi had booked it, and he may have given contact information."

Lorne fist-pumped. "Excellent, Cynthia. And if he paid with a card, HQ can get the details."

A few minutes later, with the bug sweep done, a constable entered and said, "All clear out there, Corporal."

"Thank you, Dixon. Drive these three up to Snowy Creek."

Lorne shook his head. "Thank you, but it's less hassle and almost as quick if we walk."

"Are you sure? Easy to have you driven."

"It's only six or seven minutes on the trails."