“Then you want to get in her pants? Make her pay on her back? That’s between the two of you. I’m just looking to recover what I can of Pam’s money.”
“Wait.” Ted got him to hold up. “For the record, I’m not trying to punish her. I’m not still in love with her. And I can find plenty of other women to sleep with. I need a housekeeper. It’s that simple.”
“Sure it is,” Stacy said and laughed as he walked out the door.
13
Sophia stood near the glass doors of Ted’s office, watching him at his computer. She had his lunch on a tray, the salad perfectly arranged. With the colorful berries and white poppyseed dressing it looked as appetizing as it had in the cookbook. But she was nervous again. She didn’t know what to expect from one encounter to the next. And she was curious as to what Chief Stacy had wanted when he came by earlier. Had he managed to convince Ted that she was even more of a villain than he already thought?
She couldn’t guess the answer to that question, because Ted had been in his office since she returned from the grocery store. She hadn’t dared interrupt him. She’d also been in a hurry to get lunch on—she was running thirty minutes behind schedule as it was, didn’t want that to count against her, too.
When she bumped the door with her knee, he got up to let her in.
“If you don’t mind leaving that door open a crack, I could deliver your food without disturbing you,” she said as she carried the tray past him.
“Good point.”
“Do you shut it when you’re home alone?”
He seemed too preoccupied—or too diplomatic—to answer as he cleared a spot on her desk. Maybe he felt that if he left the door open she’d take it as an invitation to drop in and chat. Or she’d be too noisy.
“Looks great,” he said.
He sounded mildly surprised, so she took that to be a sincere compliment. “I hope you like berries.”
“I do. I like most foods.”
“Including broccoli?”
“Broccoli’s a personal favorite.”
“Good news for dinner. Remember I’m leaving as soon as Alexa gets out of school, so you’ll have to get it out of the fridge and warm it up.”
“Don’t make anything for tonight. I’ve got a Halloween party.”
She knew which party he was referring to. His friends always got together on Halloween. Sometimes, depending on who was hosting and whether Skip was out of town, she’d attended. She didn’t go last year because it was here at Ted’s.
“I’ll make it tomorrow, then.” She put the tray down but backed up instead of turning to go. “Before I leave you to your lunch, could I ask what Chief Stacy wanted? I mean, if his purpose in coming involved me?” She clasped her hands behind her back so that he couldn’t see what she’d done to her cuticles. She couldn’t have a drink. And, after Friday, she’d decided that smoking wasn’t for her, either. Because of the smell, she couldn’t hide it from Alexa and didn’t want to set a bad example. Her latest bad habit was destructive, too, but at least it relieved some of her stress and anxiety without hurting anyone else. Now that Skip was gone and could no longer belittle her, she could do whatever she wanted.
Ted met her gaze. “He thinks you have money hidden away.”
“And I’m working as a housekeeper because...”
“You haven’t found it yet.”
“I see. But...why would he want to meet with you about that?”
“That was my question. The answer? He’s hoping I’ll be the first to notice if you come into money. So if you happen to stumble across a pot of gold lying around the house, be sure and tell me so I can spread the word.”
He’d always had a dry sense of humor. She could tell he was joking, but it bothered her that Chief Stacy was creating false hope. If the people of Whiskey Creek were expecting to recover their money, they were going to be disappointed. She didn’t think that was fair—to her or to them. The money was gone. Skip had burned through it trying to maintain a lifestyle that cost far too much. She’d heard Captain Armstrong say that the yacht alone required over ten grand a month to own and maintain.
Chief Stacy and the others needed to accept the truth and heal, get beyond the losses they’d sustained. And she wasn’t being glib; she had to do the same. Skip had put everything he could salvage on his back, and he hadn’t cared about the damage it would cause her or Alexa when he’d jumped into the ocean.
He hadn’t even left a note.
“Don’t worry, you won’t have to sound the alarm,” she said. “If I so much as buy a gallon of milk, it’s like bleeding in shark-infested waters.”
“It’s still very new,” he said, watching her curiously.
She straightened her spine. “Is that why you hired me? So you could keep an eye on me and what I might or might not have? Did you invest with Skip?”
Although he’d taken a seat at her desk to start eating, he hesitated before picking up the fork she’d put on the tray. “No, to all three questions.”
“You’re not an investor.”
“I’m not.”
“Then...why were you at the church with the others?”
He suddenly became much more interested in his lunch. He took a bite and spoke around it, which made it difficult to hear every word. “Eve asked me to come, to...”
She didn’t catch the rest. “Why?”
“To make sure there was no trouble.”
“I see. So you did it as a favor to her.”
“More or less.” He swallowed and took a drink of his iced tea. “You honestly don’t know who they are?”
“They?”
“The investors.”
“How would I?” she asked. “Skip kept his business affairs to himself. I might be able to get a list from the FBI or Kelly, his assistant—”
“The offices are still open?”
“No. Kelly called me over the weekend. He said they’ve been shut down. The FBI will liquidate what’s left of the assets, even the furniture, and that will be that. But he might have a list of investors on his personal computer. It depends on how much work he took home, and whether or not he had reason to save it. I didn’t ask. I’m not sure I want to know all the names. I doubt anyone will ever believe this, but I feel bad enough as it is, and not just for myself.”