Chapter 8
Becker
From where I’m standing beside a dense outcropping of trees, I take a bite of my cheeseburger and keep my eyes on the entrance of the park.
The park is busy, filled with families having picnics and trying to watch over-excited children as they pretend they’re having fun.
At the sight of Cynthia hurrying through the gates, I shove the remainder of my burger in my mouth and toss the wrapper in the trash.
I wait for her to sit on the bench before I hit dial. She answers immediately and sounds as annoyed as I thought she would. “You told him I spent the night with you!”
Since it’s a statement, I know I’m going to have to work hard to change her mind. “No, I didn’t. One of your neighbors told your dad when he gave you a phone.”
I keep my eyes on her and wait for her to connect the dots. She groans. “I told you people are always watching me.”
“You did. And I believe you. That’s why I’m calling you like this.”
I can hear the doubt in her voice. “Why are you giving me a phone if you knew I had one?”
“I have a couple of reasons. One of which is why I’m calling you.”
I keep my eyes locked on her back as she gets up from the bench and walks towards the duck pond. “How did you know where I live?”
“Your dad gave me your address and cell.”
“Why would my dad give you my details?”
“Because I need to talk to you about a couple of things.”
“What kind of things?”
“Things that involve you and Trudy working together.”
She turns abruptly and I have to tug my baseball cap down over my eyes. “I don’t want to talk to you about Trudy or anything else. I think you’re abusing your relationship with my father.”
She’s not completely wrong, but I can’t tell her that. “You need to talk to me. If you don’t it’ll look like you have something to hide.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Becker? Other than spending the night with you, which I’ll now have to explain, I have nothing to hide!”
As a mother pushing her kid in a stroller passes by, I lower my voice. “I know. And that’s why we need to talk. Where are the records for the fundraising for Trudy’s trip to PNG next year?”
She pauses. “On a pen drive. At work. I don’t even know when I’ll get it back.”
My back straightens. Everything hangs on the records being accurate. Without them, it’s her word against her sister’s. “What? Why can’t you get them back?”
She blows out a breath. “I’m going to hang up now. It might be a game for you, but I’m not interested in playing it. Please don’t call me again.”
At her resistance to talk to me, I can feel my own irritation growing. “Quit being so stubborn and listen to what I have to say.”
She releases a breath. “Sure. Why not. I mean, why not add more shit to an already stellar day.”
I squint as I try to read her expression. “What happened?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. But if you have bad news, I’d rather you told me in person, not over the phone.”
I’m not so sure it’s a good idea, given the way she’s affecting my judgment, but I say it anyway.
“There’s a bar a block from my place. Charlie’s Whiskey Bar. I’ll be waiting in the last booth. We’ll talk more when you get here,” I say.
***
Cynthia
Still not entirely convinced I should be listening to anything Becker has to say, and getting increasingly paranoid someone will see me, I push the doors to the bar open and immediately regret my decision.
It’s so dimly lit, it takes me a few seconds for my eyes to adjust before I walk across the sticky floor, towards the leather booths at the back.
Becker’s already nursing a drink, and there’s one sitting in the spot opposite.
I slide into the booth and put the phone on the table. “I can’t accept this. I know how much it costs and it feels like payment.”
He frowns. “I may have had an ulterior motive but that wasn’t it.”
When I open my mouth to ask for an explanation he gestures to my purse. “You bring the phone your sister gave you?”
I nod, and despite my better judgment I pull it out, unlock it and slide it across the table. “What’s so important about the phone?”
He picks it up and taps on the screen for a second before spinning it around to show me an icon on the screen I hadn’t noticed. “This is a tracking app. I’m going to disable it and see what else is on here.”
My eyes widen as he dismantles the phone and leaves my SIM sitting on the table.
I have no idea what value a tracking app could possibly be for Trudy, but I’m still reasoning she installed it by mistake when Becker tosses the phone on the table.
“Whose phone did she say this was?”
I scrunch up my nose. “Her old one. Before she upgraded. Why?”
He scratches his chin stubble before he taps on the phone. “I’d have to see her phone to know for sure. But this app lets her read all your messages.”
I have no idea what to say to that, or why my sister would even care so I just stare at him. “She’s not tech-savvy. It can’t have been her, and why would she want to read my messages?”
He has an answer at the ready, confounding me even further. “I can think of one reason. To know when you were out of your apartment,” he says.
My lungs seize up as he looks at my phone, still in pieces. “That’s why you bought the chain lock, isn’t it? You came home and noticed someone had been inside.”
I slouch back against the cool leather and squint at him. “Who the hell are you? And what are you really doing for my father?”
His lip curls. “Finding out who is stealing money from the fundraising among other things.”
“That’s why he hired you? I thought you worked with Global Hope?”
He spreads his hands. “I’m what I need to be.”
I can’t even deal with his continued vagueness, all I can think about is that everyone seems to be keeping things from me. “Why didn’t they tell me money was missing?”
His eyebrow hitches and he takes a drink, leaving me to figure it out.
I groan and wrap my fingers around the glass in front of me. “He thinks it’s one of us, doesn’t he? And if he has to pick someone to blame, it’ll be me.”
Becker nods slowly. “That’s why we need the records. But something tells me we’ll have a hard time doing that anytime soon.”
I down the contents of the glass without blinking. “I got fired today.”
He winces. “Why?”
I shrug. “I work part-time at an arts and crafts store. Apparently, there had been complaints about me from other staff members.”
He scratches his chin. “Let me guess, anonymous complaints? Just like the anonymous neighbor who just happens to be keeping tabs on you?”
I pull a face at him. “Maybe. I don’t know. I knew people didn’t like me, but that seems insanely vindictive.”
He nods, but he’s not thinking about small-minded churchgoers, he’s thinking about the record that could prove I’ve accounted for all the monies received. “And what about the pen drive? Where is that now?”
I shudder as the alcohol slides down my gullet spreading liquid warmth. “I left it on my desk. That was the last thing I was thinking about. I was wishing I’d kept my mouth shut about why I had gaps in my resume. But my boss, Mary, said they can send it to me, or…”
Becker’s eyebrows rise but he doesn’t say a word, just lets me simmer as understanding settles on me like a lead blanket. “My sister or father could come pick my belongings up,” I say.
He gives me a loaded look. “Why did you have gaps in your resume?”
I shrug. “I went through a rough patch. I got caught stealing, then I dropped out of high school when I was sixteen and spent two years backpacking and painting before I went to art school. I told her that.”
Becker pulls a face. “You used to paint?”
I wrinkle my nose. “A little. For fun.”
He nods as he looks down at my dismantled iPhone. “That’s why Lacey asked you to come with her?”
Despite the day I’m having a smile twitches at my lips. “That and she was trying to remind me how to have fun,” I say.
He chuckles. “Sounds like Lacey wants you to be happy.”
When stupid tears spring to my eyes, I know I need to call her. “She does. Sometimes I think she’s the only person in this town who does.”
He releases a sigh and runs his hand over his face. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you and I meant it.”
He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “But someone is spying on you, and I want to find out why.”
Since I have almost nothing to lose, I blow out a breath and curl my fingers into his. “So, aside from sitting here drinking in the middle of the day, what the hell are we going to do about it?”
His fingers close over mine. “Where’s the art supply store?” he asks.
***
Becker
Saturday 4.12pm
I’m sitting in my truck, staring at the mall, and hoping I can rope Brittney into this without too many questions.
I jam the phone against my ear and watch people streaming in and out of Hinton’s only mall.
I’m about to rethink my plan when she picks up. “Hey, what’s up?”
I don’t bother with pleasantries. “I need your help. Who is your art supplier?”
“Um, hello to you, and Howard Grant in Baltimore gets me everything, why?”
A little of the tension eases from my shoulders. “Good. I just needed to check you weren’t getting it from Mary’s in the mall.”
She scoffs. “No way. She gouges her prices and doesn’t stock half of what I need. Why the sudden interest?”
“You okay if I use your name?”
“What? Why? What are you up to? Is this to do with your job?”
My lips twitch. “Yeah. It is. Turns out Cynthia worked at the art store and there’s something I need to get from inside.”
“So why can’t she get it?”
“They fired her this morning.”
I can almost feel her sarcasm drip down the line. “The plot thickens. Lucky you’re on the case Sherlock,” she says.
“You feel like playing Watson?”
“Not really. I had enough of that shit growing up.”
“You owed me for getting my junk out, or did you forget that?”
She sighs. “Fine. What do you need me to do?”
I give her the instructions and note the time before I climb out of my truck.
Since I need to give Britt time to get here, I wander over to the coffee shop and grab an Americano to fill the time.
As usual, I get a few sideways looks from the locals, and as per my contract, I don’t engage in conversation and make my exit quickly.
By the time I’ve finished my coffee I figure Britt won’t be far away, so I dump the empty cup in the trash and walk towards the mall.
The automatic doors slide open, and I follow the signage until I find the art store.
As casually as I can I stroll in, eyes locked on the middle-aged woman behind the counter.
Her name badge reads Mary, and she smiles pleasantly, so I give her my brightest smile. “I’ve heard this is the go-to place to get bulk art supplies.”
She nods slowly and looks me over. “You’re interested in bulk art supplies?”
I laugh. “My sister Brittney is, she’s just started up art classes. I told her I can get a better deal than what she has now. I hope I wasn’t wrong?”
Now I’ve name-dropped my sister, she relaxes a little. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of you and your sister. Nice to put a face to the name. Now, what exactly were you hoping for?”
I can almost see the dollar signs in her eyes as she gives me an over-eager smile.
I make a show of looking around the store. “Actually, Britt and I were in here last week. We had a conversation with one of your salespeople, Cynthia?”
Her face falls. “Unfortunately, that staff member is no longer working for us.”
I nod sagely. “Shame. She was incredibly helpful.”
Her face blanches and she almost splutters a reply. “Yes, well, I’m pleased you had a pleasant experience. I’m not sure what she offered you?”
Her eyes slide over my shoulder and I know Britt just made an appearance. I gesture to her and beckon her over.
Considering she’s covered in paint, she lends an element of credibility I’d not otherwise have.
I nod in her direction. “Cynthia doesn’t work here anymore.”
Britt pouts and frowns at the owner. “Oh no. She seemed to know what she was talking about.”
Mary looks almost panicked. “I’m happy to do what I can. Maybe if you told me what you need?”
Britt sighs heavily and shrugs. “Well, okay. I mean, it’s a big order, and it’ll be ongoing, are you sure you can handle that volume?”
Mary nods eagerly and seems to have forgotten I exist as she turns her back on me. “I’ll do whatever I can. Do you have a list?”
I take a step backward as Britt starts rattling off items. “Sorry, do you think I could use your restroom?”
Mary’s so distracted she just waves her hand in the air. “Of course. Go through the door marked office. It’s first on your right.”
With a smile and a wink at Britt, I turn on my heel and walk towards the back of the store.
I push open the door and walk straight past the restroom and into the office.
