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Chapter 10
Why did you get a divorce? My doctor told me I wasn’t allowed to touch anything alcoholic.
I look up when the bell over the door at You Cheat, We Eat rings. “Good morning,” I greet the man who walks inside. He startles and takes a step back when he hears my voice. What’s his problem? It’s not like my voice was overly cheery. Confession: It totally was.
I study the man as he stands in front of the door. He doesn’t look like our normal client. Although we’ll find any cheater – whether male or female – we usually end up with the wives as clients. He’s also dressed in a suit I would bet a crate of my Holiday Brew is custom made. Consider my curiosity officially piqued.
“Welcome to You Cheat, We Eat. How can we make your life better?”
“I need to hire a PI,” he answers.
“Perfect! You Cheat, We Eat is a PI firm.”
“And you specialize in adultery cases?”
The name kind of gives it away, doesn’t it? “We sure do.” I point to a seat in front of my desk. “Why don’t you have a seat, Mr.…”
“Cafferty.”
“I’m Suzie. Why don’t you give me a bit of background and then I’ll check if one of our PIs is available.”
Check if someone’s available? As if. I can see from the corner of my eye both Phoebe and Hailey have crept close to their doors to listen in on our conversation. Phoebe is being nosy. She doesn’t take the adultery cases. The woman can’t be inconspicuous if she tried. And she does try. But she’s entirely too beautiful and elegantly dressed to not stick out, although she doesn’t wear her Louboutins every day anymore.
Mr. Cafferty takes a seat on the chair I indicated and folds his hands in his lap. I’m not fooled. He’s not calm. His knuckles are literally white from him clenching them.
“Go ahead,” I coax when his lips remain sealed. “No one will judge you here.”
“I think my wife is a prostitute.”
“Wh—” I cough to hide my exclamation of surprise. This is a new one. I clear my throat. “Sorry. What makes you think your wife is a prostitute?”
“I’m suspicious of all the extra cash she seems to have at her disposal.”
I raise my eyebrows and deliberately let my eyes wander up and down him. In addition to the custom-made suit, he’s wearing a pair of lace-up oxfords I’d swear are Berluti. The Italian leather shoes retail for over two-thousand dollars.
So, sue me, I like to look at pretty things online during my lunch break. It’s not against the law. And it totally came in handy when Phoebe showed up in her Louboutins with her Prada tote.
Mr. Moneybags’ lips purse. “She receives a weekly allowance from me, but the amount of cash she has is significantly more than her allowance.”
Don’t tell me some gold-digger married Mr. Moneybags and then started turning tricks when her allowance wasn’t what she expected. I guess getting a real job takes too much time and effort? Sounds crazy, but we get a lot of crazy here.
“And what makes you think the cash is the result of prostitution?” I have never said the word prostitute this much in my life.
He takes a moment to adjust his tie before answering. “I followed her.”
I don’t ask him what he saw. Judging by the color of his cheeks, I can figure it out. “If you know she’s involved with prostitution, what do you need us for?”
“I need proof she’s not only committing adultery but is in fact a prostitute.”
I don’t bother dancing around the subject. “Prenup requirement?”
“Yes.” He nods. “Now, can you help?”
Hailey decides it’s time to make her appearance. She walks out of her office. “Of course, we can help.” She extends her hand toward him. “I’m Hailey McGraw.”
After they shake hands, Hailey takes a seat next to him. “I can take pictures of your wife during her activities.”
“No, no, no. I read online someone has to engage in sex with her for it to be admissible in court.”
