Well, the bell with you, Mr. McKenna. Frustrated beyond measure, Nell picked up her paper towels and spray cleaner and attacked the reception room, grateful that his good-looking younger partner wasn't as annoying as he was. She wasn't impressed with Riley's intellect or energy so far, but he was big, blond, and blue-eyed, so at least he was fun to look at.
An hour later, the phone still hadn't rung, but the room was clean, right down to the big window in front that said in ancient, worn gold lettering, MCKENNA INVESTIGATIONS: DISCREET ANSWERS TO DIFFICULT QUESTIONS.
Nell had scrubbed it with enthusiasm until she realized that she was taking some of the flaking paint off and slowed down. Not that it would have hurt if she'd taken it all off; the lettering must have been on there for fifty years or at least as long as they'd had those ugly business cards.
When she went back inside, the window let in enough light that the deficiencies in the rest of the decor were plain. Nell's desk was a scarred mess, the couch where clients presumably waited was a brown plastic-upholstered nightmare on its last spindly motel-Mediterranean legs, and the Oriental rug on the floor was so threadbare it was transparent in places. The bookcases and wood filing cabinets were good quality and had probably been original to the office, but the middle cabinet had an unfortunate black statuette of a bird perched on it, brooding over the place like something out of Poe. She gave one despairing thought to the office she'd lost in the divorce-the pale gold walls and gold-framed prints, the light wood desks and soft gray couches-and then she sank back into the battered wood swivel chair-her chair at the insurance agency had been ergonomic-and thought, At least it's only for six weeks.
Except maybe it wasn't. She straightened slowly. He was going to have to fire Lynnie. Which meant she might end up permanently employed here. She looked around the office again. If she were permanent, she could make some changes. Like get the place painted. And lose the couch and the bird. And
Her eyes fell on the business card on her desk. "McKenna Investigations" it read in plain black sans-serif type on plain white card. It looked like something somebody had done with a kid's printing set. But the boss didn't want them changed. He didn't want anything changed, the dummy.
She went back to the computer, wondering if he was going to do anything about Lynnie or if that would be too much change, too. He hadn't even told her to check the rest of the finances. Nell stopped typing and opened the drawer that held the canceled checks. There was a gray metal box tucked in behind the check folders, and she pulled it out and opened it to find a stack of papers, each marked "Petty Cash" followed by a dollar amount. They were all signed "Riley McKenna" in writing that wanted to be spiky but kept rounding off at the end.
Nell leafed through the reports she was typing until she found one Riley had signed in a strong, dark, jagged scrawl. Nothing round anywhere, much like Riley. She went back to the petty cash slips and totaled them: $1,675. You had to admire Lynnie; the woman was thorough.
She spent the next hour compiling a stack of forged checks. The breadth of Lynnie's perfidy was astounding; she'd managed to cheat the McKennas and their creditors out of almost five thousand dollars. Just making good on the forged endorsement checks was going to cost the agency over three thousand. If Gabe McKenna didn't go after this woman
Somebody tried to open the heavy street door, and the glass in it rattled. Nell jammed the slips back into the cash box as a sharp-faced redhead popped the door open and came in frowning, dressed in a good business suit and wearing even better shoes. Money, Nell thought, shoving everything back in the bottom drawer. "Can I help you?" she said, smiling her best we're-the-people-you-need smile.
"I want to see somebody who can handle a sensitive matter," the
An hour later, the phone still hadn't rung, but the room was clean, right down to the big window in front that said in ancient, worn gold lettering, MCKENNA INVESTIGATIONS: DISCREET ANSWERS TO DIFFICULT QUESTIONS.
Nell had scrubbed it with enthusiasm until she realized that she was taking some of the flaking paint off and slowed down. Not that it would have hurt if she'd taken it all off; the lettering must have been on there for fifty years or at least as long as they'd had those ugly business cards.
When she went back inside, the window let in enough light that the deficiencies in the rest of the decor were plain. Nell's desk was a scarred mess, the couch where clients presumably waited was a brown plastic-upholstered nightmare on its last spindly motel-Mediterranean legs, and the Oriental rug on the floor was so threadbare it was transparent in places. The bookcases and wood filing cabinets were good quality and had probably been original to the office, but the middle cabinet had an unfortunate black statuette of a bird perched on it, brooding over the place like something out of Poe. She gave one despairing thought to the office she'd lost in the divorce-the pale gold walls and gold-framed prints, the light wood desks and soft gray couches-and then she sank back into the battered wood swivel chair-her chair at the insurance agency had been ergonomic-and thought, At least it's only for six weeks.
Except maybe it wasn't. She straightened slowly. He was going to have to fire Lynnie. Which meant she might end up permanently employed here. She looked around the office again. If she were permanent, she could make some changes. Like get the place painted. And lose the couch and the bird. And
Her eyes fell on the business card on her desk. "McKenna Investigations" it read in plain black sans-serif type on plain white card. It looked like something somebody had done with a kid's printing set. But the boss didn't want them changed. He didn't want anything changed, the dummy.
She went back to the computer, wondering if he was going to do anything about Lynnie or if that would be too much change, too. He hadn't even told her to check the rest of the finances. Nell stopped typing and opened the drawer that held the canceled checks. There was a gray metal box tucked in behind the check folders, and she pulled it out and opened it to find a stack of papers, each marked "Petty Cash" followed by a dollar amount. They were all signed "Riley McKenna" in writing that wanted to be spiky but kept rounding off at the end.
Nell leafed through the reports she was typing until she found one Riley had signed in a strong, dark, jagged scrawl. Nothing round anywhere, much like Riley. She went back to the petty cash slips and totaled them: $1,675. You had to admire Lynnie; the woman was thorough.
She spent the next hour compiling a stack of forged checks. The breadth of Lynnie's perfidy was astounding; she'd managed to cheat the McKennas and their creditors out of almost five thousand dollars. Just making good on the forged endorsement checks was going to cost the agency over three thousand. If Gabe McKenna didn't go after this woman
Somebody tried to open the heavy street door, and the glass in it rattled. Nell jammed the slips back into the cash box as a sharp-faced redhead popped the door open and came in frowning, dressed in a good business suit and wearing even better shoes. Money, Nell thought, shoving everything back in the bottom drawer. "Can I help you?" she said, smiling her best we're-the-people-you-need smile.
"I want to see somebody who can handle a sensitive matter," the
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