The Art of Eavesdropping

by Christy Barritt

  I paced the office as I waited, trying to walk my nerves out. I hoped I didn’t screw up tonight. I hoped I was somehow able to conceal my childhood in the jungle in favor of looking classy and refined.

  It was going to be a big task, however. You could take the girl out of the jungle, but could you take the jungle out of the girl?

  I had my doubts.

  Finally, my phone rang, and I saw that it was Michael. Quickly, I put the device to my ear. I hoped he was calling to say he was pulling up outside.

  “Are you almost here?” I answered.

  “Elliot, I am so sorry, but I can’t make it tonight,” he rushed, noise and chatter in the background. “Chloe broke her arm, and I’ve got to take her to the ER. My parents already have plans, and I can’t leave this to a sitter.”

  His poor daughter. “Of course, you can’t leave her right now. I totally understand. Take care of your daughter.”

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to send you out there by yourself.”

  I remembered my father’s words to me, his encouragement and his teaching. I could do this by myself if I was smart. It was what would keep me alive. Integrity would keep me sane.

  I was still struggling with the balance of it all.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll stay invisible.”

  “Are you sure?” Michael asked. “Because I can tell Oscar that you can’t make it.”

  “No, don’t tell him that. Let me see how I do tonight by myself. If I need to get out, then I will.”

  “You can do this, Elliot,” Michael said. “The only reason I hesitate to send you in alone is because you’re new. I know you need a mentor. Maybe even more than one.”

  “If I’m cautious, I should be fine.” I hoped. I liked to believe I could do anything I set my mind to.

  “Okay then. Knock them dead. You’re safer in crowds than you are alone. Always know your exits. And if you feel scared for your life, leave. Understand?”

  “Got it.”

  “If you need anything, call me. I may not be able to come myself, but I will find someone who can help you.”

  “Got it. And tell Chloe I hope she feels better.”

  “I’ll do that. Check in later, okay?”

  “Got it.”

  I ended the call and felt a flutter of nerves and excitement rush through me. I could do this. I knew I could.

  The question was, could I do this without getting myself killed?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Thirty minutes later, I pulled up to the waterside mansion and a valet approached my car. I wasn’t the valet type. I was the one who’d rather walk one mile in the rain than pay five dollars to have someone else park my car.

  Aside from that, I didn’t really have the fancy fundraiser car that most of the people around me did. Mine was made in the US, and most of the others were foreign and looked more like trophies than vehicles. I really should have asked to borrow Oscar’s . . .

  Despite that, I knew I needed to keep my cover. Rolling my shoulders back, I embraced my new personality like a feather-clad actress at the Festival of the Chicken. I couldn’t act like I was an assistant PI and part-time cleaning lady.

  I shoved a twenty in the valet’s hand as I climbed out of the vehicle holding my ten-dollar purse.

  The irony. Would anyone besides me understand it?

  Probably not.

  Careful to balance myself in heels, I stepped away from the vehicle, straightened my little red dress, and started toward the massive mansion in the distance.

  I had to admit that the number made me feel like a million bucks. As did having my hair fixed and my neck adorned with a gold necklace.

  I’d never thought I was the type who’d like getting dressed up like a princess, but maybe inside every little girl, there was a bit of that fairytale fantasy hiding.

  I drew in a deep breath as I climbed twenty-two steps to the front door. Yes, I counted.

  The landscape and building around me looked neat and tidy, evidence that whoever had designed this place had been top-notch. I might like it here. I mean, I’d prefer to be alone with a book and a cup of coffee. But, if that wasn’t an option, I would embrace this new side of me.

  A brief flutter of nerves washed through me again. I knew nobody here. Most likely, I was going to be standing around by myself, trying to look like I blended in. Talking to strangers wasn’t my number one favorite thing to do. But I could adjust.

  I pulled my ticket from my purse and handed it to a man wearing a tuxedo in the doorway. He looked at it, glanced at me, and then extended his hand to welcome me inside.

  I nearly stopped in my tracks when I saw the interior of the house. This place was massive.

  Once, I’d been to the Yerbian president’s house for an event. Knowing my dad was a spy, the invitation now made more sense. Back then, I’d just figured that it was the luck of the draw that we’d been invited to one of the massive celebrations.

  This place in Storm River almost put the Yerbian palace to shame. The mansion was gorgeous. The ceiling was at least three stories high. The floor appeared to be marble. A curved staircase stretched on one wall, and a massive crystal chandelier hung down in the center.

  People dressed like a million bucks surrounded me. They mixed and mingled like they did this all the time.

  Probably because they did.

  This was going to be harder than I thought. Trying to blend in here. To look wealthy when I wasn’t. To look like I was well-versed in the upper crust social scene.

  What would people here think if they learned I’d spent my summer in the fields, picking gooseberries so I could earn some extra money for college. My dad had believed in personal responsibility. Nothing had ever been handed to me, and I’d worked for everything I had.

  It gave me a great sense of appreciation for everything that I finally did have now.

  As a waiter walked past with a tray full of bruschetta, I grabbed one and kept it on the napkin in my hand. Then I glanced around.

  Where was Flash’s ex-girlfriend? She was supposed to be here, and I needed to find her.

  I moved toward the edge of the room to keep an eye on everything. It was something my father had taught me when he’d told me bedtime stories during the uprising. Never stand with your back to the door. Always choose the best place to keep an eye on everybody.

  My gaze stopped at someone across the room.

  Was that . . . Jono?

  It was. He looked just as handsome and charming as ever as he talked to a group of ladies. He wore a tux, and his hair was perfectly styled. Was it as Michael had said? Jono liked to bring his flavor of the month to Storm River? To the house his father kept for him here?

  Did the man even work or was he a trust fund baby?

  My bets were on the trust fund part.

  “Would you like a drink?” someone asked me.

  I turned toward a woman wearing a black-and-white uniform, holding a tray of fluted glasses, and I smiled. The action seemed to catch her off guard because her gaze fluttered until finally a smile spread across her face also.

  “Thank you.” I took one of the glasses, knowing I wouldn’t drink it but wanting to blend in.

  She stared at me a moment. “You’re welcome. And thank you.”

  “Thank me? For what?”

  “For seeing me. Most of the time people look at me without even really seeing that I’m there. But you did. So I just wanted to say thank you.”

  I knew the feeling. Part of me wanted to tell her that I was just like her. But I couldn’t break my cover.

  “Excuse me, have we met before?” someone said behind me.

  I swirled around and saw Jono standing there. Handsome Jono. Jono who’d muttered “be vigilant” to me. Maybe.

  Who exactly was this man? A foe? A friend?

  I had no idea.

  I braced myself for how I should answer that question.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Have we met before?” I repeated
the question as I tried to buy myself some time. “I don’t think so.”

  I was so bad at this acting thing. So bad. But if I had to make myself do this, then certainly I could. My father had been a spy. He’d taken on alternate identities all the time. Certainly I could do the same.

  Jono tilted his head. “No, I really feel like we’ve talked before. I just can’t place when or where.”

  Would he buy that the girl he’d helped in the rundown, mostly silver except for the red door, Buick on the side of the road was now at this fundraiser that cost a thousand dollars a ticket? He would definitely find that suspicious. At least, if he had any sort of intelligence he would.

  “I think I just have one of those faces,” I said.

  He still stared at me, almost as if he didn’t believe me. “Someone who’s as pretty as you should be easy to remember.”

  My cheeks might have reddened. “Oh, stop.”

  “And you’re not coy either. Where did you come from?”

  I shrugged, really horrible at flirting. “I’m just an ordinary girl. What can I say?”

  His eyes sparkled as they met mine. “I would say you’re anything but ordinary.”

  And that was the reason people said this man had flavors of the month. He was good-looking and a sweet talker. He obviously wasn’t all bad—he did stop to help women on the side of the road when their cars broke down.

  “So what’s your name?” His hand hung loosely in his pocket, almost like he was posing for a GQ picture.

  Yes, I knew what the magazine was, even if I had grown up in the jungle. My old boss had liked to keep copies in our waiting room at the office.

  I swallowed hard. “My friends call me Elle.”

  Not my friends. My dad. That was his nickname for me.

  “Elle?” He grinned, showing his perfect teeth. “I like it. I’m Jono.”

  “Jono? What an interesting name.”

  He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “An interesting name for an interesting guy.”

  “You think of yourself as interesting?” It didn’t seem like something most people said.

  “Well, if I thought I was boring, then something would be wrong.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at his words. The man was quite entertaining.

  Someone across the room caught my eye.

  That was her.

  Flash’s old girlfriend.

  Jono seemed to follow my gaze. “Emily Riviera. Do you know her?”

  I practiced my poker face, trying not to give anything away. “I can’t say I do. I heard she dated that golfer, though.”

  “You mean Flash Slivinski?” There was no hidden hostility in his voice, but instead he almost sounded eager for some good gossip.

  “Yes, he’s the one.”

  Jono’s gaze remained on Emily, but some of the sparkle left his gaze. “Yes, I do know Emily. Most of the people around here do.”

  “I don’t hear a lot of fondness in your words.”

  “She’s one of those who came from the wrong side of the tracks. But she’s determined to marry herself into privilege.”

  Was there resentment in his words? I wasn’t sure. “So you’re saying she’s a gold digger?”

  He shrugged. “Yes. I suppose I was trying to be more eloquent.”

  “I can tell you are not a fan.”

  He frowned. “I have to admit that I dated her myself. But only for a month.”

  So everything that people had said about this guy was true. I didn’t say that out loud though. Instead, I murmured, “I guess I could learn a lot from you about the people around here, couldn’t I?”

  “I guess you could. Maybe we could get together for dinner one day?” His eyes glimmered as he waited for my answer.

  I was about to respond when I glanced over Jono’s shoulder and saw yet another familiar face. Who would’ve ever thought that I would recognize so many people?

  But that was Detective Dylan Hunter.

  Not only was he here, but he’d seen me talking to Jono.

  In English.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Is everything okay?” Jono asked, studying my face, which had no doubt gone pale.

  I scooted around so the detective couldn’t see me. But when I smiled, I felt my nerves coming through.

  It was crucial right now that I not break my cover. But I wasn’t sure I was going to be successful.

  I lowered my voice before responding to Jono’s question about getting together for dinner one night. Under any other normal circumstance I would’ve told him no. But right now, I just needed to answer and I needed to answer quickly.

  “That would be nice sometime.”

  His eyes lit with satisfaction. “Perfect. Can I get your number?”

  I glanced over his shoulder and saw the detective coming my way. I quickly blurted my number, and Jono typed it into his cell phone. “Perfect. I’ll be in touch.”

  Just as he said the words, Detective Hunter arrived, his gaze on me.

  “Jono.” He turned toward the man, nodding stiffly.

  Jono nodded back just as stiffly. “Detective.”

  I realized the two of them knew each other but didn’t have a fond relationship. This was not the time for me to ask about their history. But I was more curious than ever about the detective.

  “I was wondering if I could have a word with your friend?” The detective’s gaze went back to me.

  “Elle?” Jono looked at me. “That’s your call.”

  I shrugged. “Sure . . . I mean . . . sí.”

  I sucked in a quick breath. What had I just said? I fought the urge to close my eyes and shake my head at my stupidity.

  “I’ll call you sometime,” Jono said.

  I tried to remain calm and appear unassuming. But as the detective took my arm, I had to admit that I was a little more than nervous.

  Michael had told me that I could call him if I needed anything.

  I needed him now.

  Too bad it was too late to grab my phone and make that call.

  The detective led me away from the crowds and into a hallway.

  This wasn’t good. I knew what was coming, and I dreaded it.

  “Who are you?” His eyes narrowed as he glared at me.

  Suddenly, he didn’t remind me so much of Captain America. Or maybe he did. I just never expected to be the one playing Red Skull.

  Okay, so I had seen that movie. It was my sister’s favorite, and I’d found myself enjoying it also.

  How was I going to get out of this one?

  I responded in Spanish. “Me llamo Elle—”

  “Cut the act.” His voice sounded hard and demanding. “I heard you speak English. Who are you?”

  I swallowed hard. I wanted to just keep playing dumb. It was too bad that lying went against everything I believed in.

  “I . . . do not . . . I no understand.” I made sure my words sounded like broken English. Maybe this would work. But I knew desperation covered me like fleece on an alpaca.

  “I know that you don’t have an accent. I heard you. So stop playing games.” He moved in closer, a classic intimidation tactic.

  I felt my shoulders deflating. The man had me cornered. Plus, could I go to jail for lying to a police officer? But what if the police officer was off duty? Did it still count?

  I had so many questions.

  I stared straight ahead. Hunter’s tuxedo bowtie was crooked. I wanted to reach up and straighten it.

  I started to raise my hand but pulled it back down before I did something I’d regret.

  But it seemed safer to stare at the detective’s bowtie than it did to stare into his piercing gaze as he waited for my response.

  “You do know that most liars have a response prepared, right?” Hunter said. “Taking this long to try to come up with some good story isn’t doing you any favors. So I need you to tell me the truth.”

  Doggonit! He was right. I was taking entirely too long.

  But may
be I could come up with an excuse as to why I was taking so long.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and mentally shook my head. I needed to stop this. Now. I wasn’t a game player.

  “My name is Elliot Ransom, and I work for Oscar Driscoll,” I blurted.

  “What?” He stepped back and turned away, as if disgust filled him and he could no longer look at me. “Why would you work for that jerk?”

  “I ask myself that sometimes too.” I wanted to slap my hand over my face as the words left my lips. But it felt so good to be honest for once.

  “So when you come in to clean the police station . . . ?” Understanding rolled through his gaze.

  I nodded, knowing that he had already drawn the correct conclusion. “Oscar sent me to see if I could find out anything about your investigation into Flash Slivinski.”

  “Do you realize that what you’re doing is totally unethical and illegal?”

  “But—”

  “I could arrest you right now.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice, the action intimidating and threatening, just as it was supposed to be.

  “I was just following instructions . . .”

  “And pretending you didn’t speak English?”

  I didn’t say anything. What else could I say?

  “It was really quite brilliant,” he said.

  My eyes widened. Had I heard him correctly?

  “I don’t want to ever see you in the police station again,” he said. “Do you understand?”

  I nodded, probably a little too quickly. I needed to agree before he changed his mind. “I understand.”

  “If I see you there again, it’s not only your job and future on the line, but the entire cleaning crew.”

  “They had nothing to do with this,” I rushed.

  “That’s not the way it looks.”

  “But—”

  “Look, you seem like a nice girl. A nice girl who probably got pulled into something that she didn’t fully understand. So I’m going to let it pass this time. But if I were you, I’d run far away from Oscar Driscoll.”

  “Why?” I shouldn’t have asked, but it was too late to take the word back.