I nod firmly. “Absolutely. But I’ll get him. Don’t worry.”
“Okay. You should go home and get some rest.” She smiles softly, then walks away.
She’s right. I haven’t taken a single break today. My back is killing me, my neck is stiff, and my shoulders are tight from hunching over my desk for hours on end. But before I leave for the night, I have to call my PI.
He answers on the first ring.
I press the phone to my ear. “Hi, Neal. How are you?”
“Not bad. What can I do for you?” he says in his usual calm voice.
I hesitate, then say, “I need you to confirm some information for me. Make sure a story checks out. Can you do that?”
“Absolutely. Send me everything you have.”
A grin spreads across my face. Neal is one of the best at what he does. In a few days, I’ll know if Helen Fletcher’s story is a fabrication or the real thing—and I’ll be just a bit closer to the truth.
22
Baptiste
As soon as Harper and I step into the common room at Golden Age, two residents zip over to us—well, as fast as their joints allow. One of them does have a cane.
“Hello. I make some nice jewelry pieces,” the first lady brags, showing us a beaded bracelet. “Would you like to try it on?”
Harper and I share a confused glance, then she turns to the woman with a polite grin. “Oh, I’m all right, thank you. It’s beautiful.”
“Maybe a recipe card?” the other asks, clutching her cane. “I was a darn good cook, and I never shared my secrets with anyone. I’ll give you a niceprice for it.”
My brow furrows. “I think we’re good, but thank you?”
“I told you they didn’t care about recipes,” the first lady mumbles as we walk away.
“What was that about?” Harper whispers, glancing back at them. “That was weird, right?”
“A bit strange, yeah,” I say, scanning the room for Glenda.
She’s hunched in her usual rocking chair by the window. When she greets us both with a smile, I feel a swell of relief. She seems more friendly with me than the first time I met her. Which is a good sign. I know how important her approval is to Harper, and I’ve never wanted anyone to like me as much as I want Glenda to right now. Well, except for Harper—but I think we’re on the right path.
After a few minutes of small talk, Harper addresses the elephant in the room. “So, what’s going on with all this?” She motions to the poker table, which seems more popular than ever. James and Beth aren’t here today, but a large crowd is gathered around it, and it looks like there’s another game going at the other end of the room.
“This place is dang expensive, that’s what’s happening,” Glenda says, rocking a little too aggressively. “Rates have been shooting up since the beginning of the year. Even I’m noticing the hikes, and I’ve only been here for a few months.”
“What? How much?” Harper asks, her eyebrows drawn together in concern.
“A few hundred,” Glenda says.
I fold my arms over my chest. “That’s not right.”
“Yeah. This doesn’t make any sense,” Harper says, shaking her head. “Have you asked management about it?”
“Sure have. They mentioned a bunch of stuff that weren’t included anymore, and some new services they added on. I couldn’t make sense of it.”
Harper’s gaze sharpens. “Can you get me your invoices from the past few months? I’ll figure this out.”
She shrugs. “I don’t know how. It’s all electronic now.”
“I’ll look at your contract and find your invoices when I get home,” Harper says. “I might need your identification number. Do you know it?”
