Top Producer

by Laura Wolfe

  Her “outside the box” thinking was spiraling out of control. I thought back to the rats running through Bistro Maria, the bottles of spray paint hidden in the trunk of her car, the box she’d tricked me into stealing from Julia’s condo, the fake contract she’d submitted on Natalia’s twenty-four-million-dollar listing, her friend’s unplanned pregnancy, and the jingling drawer of keys. Half the things she did to gain business were illegal and immoral, but I’d never seen her physically hurt anyone. And I wasn’t even sure she was behind the rats or the pregnancy. I’d done a few dishonest things, too, but nothing like this. No. Not even close.

  I inhaled deeply and braced myself against the wall. No, I scolded myself, shaking my head. This was crazy. I couldn’t let my imagination run away with me, creating a wild story without any proof.

  An unexpected wave of nausea overtook me. I staggered to the bathroom, and dry heaved into the toilet. As I hunched over the bowl, slivers of memories that once seemed irrelevant began to surface. I was the one who had told Jacqueline that Kevin suffered from a severe shellfish allergy. After caravan that day, she’d asked me for real estate information. I’d shared information about his allergy instead. I’d even told her where he kept his EpiPen.

  Peter’s warning echoed through my head. She’ll make you do bad things.

  I swallowed, remembering the office meeting this morning. Jacqueline recovered way too quickly when Maeve announced Kevin’s death. Everyone at Greystone was sobbing and crying and leaving work early, but she continued making phone calls, almost expressionless as if nothing had happened. And her motive was clear. She’d wanted Kevin kicked off the Arlington on the Park listing, especially after he’d made her look bad in front of Roger Burton.

  I pulled myself up from the bathroom floor, my muscles weak, my stomach hollow and shaky. My gut knew the truth. Jacqueline had murdered Kevin.

  My phone peeked out of my pocket. I pulled it out, but then I froze. I couldn’t think of who to call or what to say. I wrung my hands in my lap as I ran through my options. Confronting Jacqueline would be reckless. Dangerous, even. Besides, she’d deny the accusation and then fire me. Plus, I didn’t have any proof.

  I could call the police and tell them my suspicions, but what if I was wrong? Jacqueline would fire me. My accusations would ruin her career. Possibly her life.

  Confiding in Maeve seemed like the worst idea of all. She wouldn’t believe me, and then she’d get everyone involved.

  I tugged at the collar of my shirt, which was damp from the cold water I’d splashed on my face. The shag carpet rug in the doorway caught my eye, and I sat up straighter. There was a way to find out if she was telling the truth about her reason for being in Kevin’s building yesterday. I hadn’t seen any carpet stain when I’d shown Haley’s condo to my buyer, but maybe I wasn’t looking in the right place.

  My phone weighed like a brick in my hand as I scrolled through my contacts and finally pressed Haley’s name. She picked up on the second ring. I made a conscious effort to breathe.

  “Hi, Mara.” Her voice sounded light and hopeful.

  “Hi, Haley.”

  “Any leads on my condo?”

  “Uh, not really. I mean, there is one woman who seemed to like it.” My voice trailed off, and I took a deep breath, reminding myself to sound casual. “Um, I was just calling about the stain on your carpet.”

  “What stain?”

  My stomach folded over itself, the phone shaking in my hand. “The one you asked Jacqueline to look at the other day.”

  “I’m sorry, Mara. She must have been talking about a different condo. I never talked to Jackie about a carpet stain.”

  “Okay. My mistake. Sorry to bother you.” My insides squeezed, and I thought I might hurl again.

  “Oh, Mara,” Haley said before I could hang up. “I’m sorry to hear about the real estate agent who died. He was from your office, right?”

  My forehead erupted with beads of sweat. “Yeah. Kevin.”

  “I guess he lived a few floors above me. There were reporters everywhere this morning.”

  “Yeah. I saw it on the news. Kevin was a good guy.”

  “Not to be callous or anything, but . . .” Haley paused. “You don’t think this will hurt my chances of selling, do you?”

  I caught my breath, my voice switching back to realtor mode. “Oh, no. People die in these buildings all the time.” Then before I could stop myself, “It’s not like he was murdered or anything.”

  “Good point. Okay, gotta run.”

  My phone dropped to the floor, and I rested my forehead in my hands. The facts hovered over me, pinning me down. I couldn’t get away from them. There was no stain on Haley’s carpet. Jacqueline had been in the building to murder Kevin. Why else would she lie? Now I knew the truth, and as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t unknow it.

  I fought the urge to call Damon. It was more important to shield him from Jacqueline. If I told Damon my suspicions, he’d feel some lawyerly obligation to report Jacqueline to the police. He had a childlike tendency to see things in black and white. “People who break the law are bad. Bad people go to jail,” he’d told me once. I loved his sincerity, but it was better if he didn’t know about Jacqueline’s methods or my participation. I’d deal with this myself.

  Although calling the police was probably the moral thing to do, I couldn’t do that either. Jacqueline would never let me off the hook. She’d find a way to implicate me, if not in Kevin’s murder, then in something else. I’d worked too hard the past several months building my real estate business to have Jacqueline flush everything down the toilet. I wouldn’t put Emma at risk. I was the only one who could pay for her treatment.

  My phone buzzed, flashing with Damon’s name. I took a few deep breaths and cleared my throat.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi.”

  I pulled down on the ends of my hair. “It’s so good to hear your voice. I thought you’d be in class.”

  “I was. I’ve got a few minutes before the next one starts.”

  My chest swelled with emotion. I was lucky to have such a caring, smart, and loyal boyfriend. My voice caught in my throat as I remembered how I’d betrayed him the night before. I should never have agreed to dance with that guy.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I’m just really busy with work.” I stared out the window at the goliath concrete building being erected across the street. “And remember Kevin, the realtor in my office who brought me to the CCC the night we met?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He died yesterday.”

  “Holy, crap! Are you Serious?”

  I breathed in and out several times, composing myself.

  “What happened?” Damon asked.

  “He was allergic to shellfish. Couldn’t get to his EpiPen in time, I guess.” My eyes inspected an imperfection in my hardwood flooring. I was reciting Jacqueline’s version of events to my boyfriend. There was no going back now.

  “That’s crazy.” He paused. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  “No. Thanks. It’s not like we were that close, but he was a decent guy. I mean, for the most part.” I shuffled over to my couch and sat down, debating how much of the truth to tell him. “He lived at 35 East Delaware. The same building where I’ve been doing all the showings for Jacqueline’s studio listing.”

  “That’s crazy,” Damon said again.

  We sat in silence for a couple of seconds.

  “Speaking of Jacqueline, I got an email from her this morning. That’s why I called you. She must have sent it before she found out about Kevin.”

  Every hair on my body stood on end. I struggled to speak but couldn’t force my voice out of my constricted throat.

  “Jacqueline said we should all get together sometime. She mentioned she might be able to help me find an internship this summer. And there was something about funny photos of you that she’d have to send me some time.”

  “What?” Th
at was all I could muster. My legs gave out, and I fell onto my couch.

  “Yeah. So, tell her that sounds great. Maybe she can help me get a job at that firm she used to work for.”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  “What are the funny photos?”

  I swallowed against my scratchy throat. “I have no idea.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Well, I’ve got to go to class. I’m sorry about Kevin.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” I ended the call. Dread weighed down my body. What was Jacqueline doing? How had she gotten Damon’s email address? I cradled my head in my hands, struggling to figure out her angle. Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed with the answer to my question.

  39

  Heard you talked to Haley. Just in case you’re thinking of doing anything irresponsible…

  Below the text from Jacqueline was a photo of two people groping each other and making out in a dimly lit bar. I had the same skirt as the woman in the photo. It took a second to sink in—the woman was me, and the man was the tattooed slimeball who’d forced himself on me at Drumbar. The blood drained from my body, replaced with poisonous anger that surged through my veins. Jacqueline had snapped a photo of me with the guy at the bar. I remembered the empty chairs next to us and the convenient arrival of the male supermodel who’d gone out of his way to ask me for light and follow me to the bathroom. She’d set me up.

  I imagined Damon looking at that photo. No gray area there. He’d leave me for sure. Shit! I threw my phone and watched it skid across my hardwood floor before colliding with the wall. I straightened up, my body aching with the memory of the lonely nights before I’d met Damon. Not this time. This was where I drew the line. Jacqueline might be a step ahead of most people, but she wasn’t smarter than me. I wasn’t going to let her control me any longer.

  I pulled in a deep breath, picked up my phone, and called her. She answered on the first ring.

  “Mara. I trust you got my message?”

  “What are you doing? Stay the hell away from my boyfriend!” I dug my fingernails into the drywall.

  “Calm down. I needed a little insurance policy in case you get any crazy ideas.”

  “Crazy ideas about what?” I wanted to hear her say it. Admit that she murdered Kevin.

  “I don’t know,” she responded. “You tell me why you called Haley, and then I’ll decide what to do with this photo.”

  I hesitated, not being as accomplished a liar as Jacqueline. “Just wanted to make sure the carpet stain issue was squared away.”

  “And is it? Squared away?”

  I clenched my fingers into a fist, barely able to force myself to say the word. “Yes.”

  “Great. Then there’s no need for the photo.” She paused. “Let’s move past this and get back to business. Now that Kevin isn’t around to help with Arlington on the Park, I can probably find a spot for you. That’s what you wanted, right?”

  I couldn’t speak.

  Jacqueline sighed. “Your motive was the same as mine. Don’t forget it.”

  My eyes squeezed closed.

  Jacqueline’s voice lightened. “It will be our normal referral fee arrangement. You’ll get twenty percent of all sold units.”

  My hand shook as I held the phone to my ear. I would never have wanted a spot on the development if I’d known the cost. She was twisting everything around, trying to make it seem like I was just as guilty as her.

  “Okay,” I said, not really believing that she was going to get away with murdering Kevin, that I was going to let her get away with it. Then again, turning her into the police would be too high of a price to pay. I couldn’t risk Damon seeing that photo. I couldn’t lose my income. I had Emma to think about, not to mention my mortgage and car payments. And twenty percent of an 80-unit development wasn’t something I could afford to turn down.

  She sighed. “I thought you’d be a little more excited. The units practically sell themselves. Do you have any idea how much money you’ll make on this?”

  “I’m still in shock about Kevin.”

  “Get over it. Focus on work. Let’s grab coffee tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. We can review the details of the development and then head over to the sales center. You’ll be handling most of the showings over there. I still need to talk to Roger just to make sure he’s okay with bringing you on board.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t forget to take my buyers out tonight.”

  My back slid down the wall. “Yeah. I know.”

  “I need you to cover a couple of showings at the Ravenswood house for me this afternoon, too. I’m swamped. I’ll email you the schedule.”

  I stared at the ceiling and closed my eyes. Jacqueline owned me.

  “Okay,” I said, no longer trying to hide the disgust in my voice.

  So that was Jacqueline’s plan. Kill Kevin and bring me on board to do all the work while she sat back and collected eighty percent of the commissions, instead of the fifty percent she would have earned with Kevin. Only I didn’t know which I found more disturbing, Jacqueline’s criminal scheme, or that I might be willing to let her get away with it. I clenched my jaw, keeping my disgust locked inside.

  For the rest of the day, I kept myself busy, trying to outrun the troubling reality that shadowed me. Telling the truth wasn’t an option. There was too much to lose. I needed a better plan, a way to protect myself. I survived minute-by-minute, breath-by-breath, scheduling showings for Jacqueline’s buyers, inputting Jacqueline’s new listings, checking stats on our websites, opening the doors for potential buyers at Jacqueline’s properties while she did who-knew-what.

  I’d deleted the text with the damaging photo of me immediately after opening it, but Jacqueline still had a copy. The photo haunted me. Maybe Damon would understand if I explained everything. Or maybe he’d be angry for a while and eventually forgive me. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t. Damon was the bright spot in my life. I couldn’t risk losing him.

  At 6:00 p.m., I met Jacqueline’s buyers at the first property, leading them around for two hours while they found things to dislike at every location.

  “This parking space will be hard to back out of in the winter. . . I don’t care for the choice of granite. . . I prefer carpet in the bedrooms, not hardwood. . . Why aren’t there light switches for the closets?” And on and on and on.

  I forced myself to smile, assuring them we’d find the perfect home.

  “Why couldn’t Jacqueline meet us tonight?” asked the balding, pot-bellied husband as we toured the fourth property.

  She’s too busy murdering her competition, I wanted to say. Instead, I cracked my knuckles and stared at a vase of fake flowers strategically positioned on the dining room table.

  “She had another commitment and couldn’t reschedule,” I said, which may or may not have been true. She was blackmailing me. I was doing all her work, and she was only paying me twenty percent. The gratefulness I’d felt at the beginning of our relationship had transformed into resentment.

  40

  At 8:05 a.m. Jacqueline sat across from me at a private table in the corner of Starbuck’s, barking orders into her phone.

  “Hi, Don. We have an offer coming in on Sawyer. Call me back.”

  “Is that the Sawyer building I called the violations in on?” I asked.

  “Yep.” She hugged her cardboard cup between her hands and smiled. “Don added two units already. I’m going to make a killing on this flip.”

  “You mean we’re going to make a killing.”

  “No, Mara. I paid you twenty percent on the initial sale. This second sale is all mine. That was our agreement. Don’t pull this bullshit with me.”

  It could have been the horrible lighting inside Starbuck’s, or maybe it was because I knew she was a murderer, but her eyes were a darker shade of gray today.

  “Are the Mattisons going to write an offer?” she asked, changing
the subject.

  “They didn’t seem crazy about anything I showed them last night.”

  “Well, get them to write something. Then you’ll get twenty percent of that.”

  “Oh, gee, thanks,” I said, my voice thick with sarcasm.

  Jacqueline’s eyes bulged, and she leaned in close. “You ungrateful little bitch. Do you know how many realtors in this city would chop off their right arms for twenty percent of my deals? Do you realize you’ve only gotten as far as you have because of me?”

  She was expecting me to back off and apologize as I’d done so many times before, but something inside me had bolstered and tightened. I’d lain awake for half the night mulling over the situation in my head, and I’d come up with a good play. I’d lie, telling her I’d decided to come clean, that I’d already told Damon all about the guy at Drumbar. Damon had been angry, naturally, but we were going to work it out. Then Jacqueline wouldn’t have any power over me. Instead, I’d be the one with all the power because I knew she was a murderer. Next, I’d demand fifty percent of the Arlington on the Park commissions to keep her secret safe. Twenty percent wouldn’t cut it with the hundreds of thousands of dollars of Emma’s medical bills I’d soon have to pay. I leaned in even closer to her face, feeling her soy latte breath on my skin.

  “I know what you did,” I whispered.

  Something flinched within her metallic eyes. “You don’t know anything.”

  I refused to look away. “There was no carpet stain in Haley’s studio.”

  Jacqueline glanced down, shaking her head and laughing. “Oh, Mara. I thought we were past this.”

  “You just happened to be in Kevin’s building hours before he dies of a shellfish allergy? An allergy I know you knew about. What did you do? Poison his food and hide his EpiPen? And then you lie about being in the building to check on a carpet stain that doesn’t exist. Was that really the best you could come up with?”

  She reached across the table and grabbed my wrist. “If you even think about sharing your little theory with anyone, I will destroy you. That’s a promise.”