Agatha

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Agatha Page 16

by Kayt Miller


  So, with Brad’s okay, we’ve worked in the offices at night since we didn’t want to tip any of the suspects off of our dastardly plot. We used that time to install our own nanny-cams with audio in each of the appropriate offices as well as apps and devices to monitor emails, telephone calls, and texts. The process has been fascinating. Even now, when I’m merely sitting in the temporary control room of Phoenix Cyber Security on the thirteenth floor of H&S watching the monitors, I’m vibrating with excitement and have been since five this morning. Ian snuck me in early so no one would know I was on the property and I could watch this all unfold.

  Ian hasn’t yet returned from his meeting in conference room 3 with the original members of my firing squad. Ha! Get it? Firing squad.

  “I got it,” mutters Jason.

  Oops. I guess I said that aloud.

  “Here he comes.” I stare at one of the monitors as Ian steps out of the conference room. I watch as his eyes move up to the camera. I know he’s looking at me because he winks.

  “He looks pleased as punch,” says Jason.

  We watched his meeting thanks to our surveillance cameras and I have to say, Ian Burke is brilliant. And sexy. So damn sexy.

  “He does look pleased.” As he should. I know the basic plan but now that we’re all here, waiting. I’m worried it’s not going to work.

  Ian enters the room, shutting the door behind him quickly. Pressing the lock down, he walks over to me, wraps his arms around me, and kisses me. “It was better than I’d hoped. Now that they know we’re about to nail them, the rats will scurry around trying to cover their tracks like they’re on a sinking ship.”

  “But, little do they know you already got those phone records.” I giggle because I’m nervous and because Ian is so hot when he’s being all private dickish.

  Wait. Um. You know what I mean, right?

  “We do. And since we know there are three involved…”

  “There are always three involved,” interjects Jason. “At least that’s what I read.”

  Ignoring him, I repeat, “We know the three involved plus we’ve got the Feds in on this. Their phones are tapped, computers are monitored, and their offices wired. I don’t think it’ll take them long to make a move.”

  We stare at the monitors, one of which is focused on Camille’s office. My heart hurts over everything I’ve learned about her since last week. I’ve discovered her real name us Katelyn Camille Bartlett. I know she was hired by Miriam, her mother, about a month after Miriam started working here. Miriam also hired her husband and Camille’s father, Victor Smiley, around that same time. I also know they’ve done this before, under different names, of course, at the last three places they’ve worked. Each time, they’ve framed someone who didn’t deserve to be framed and they’ve stolen several million dollars along the way. It’s how they can afford the fancy house in Mountainaire, I guess.

  “I still don’t get how they got away with the fake names,” asked Jason one late night. “And what about taxes and shit?”

  I decide to answer since taxes are an area I understand, “Since Miriam was the Human Resources Director, she not only had untethered access to those records, she submitted everything to the IRS, so she could use their real names there but use the false name for the H&S internal records. No one but her knew their real names. If that had been flagged by the Feds, they’d contact her about it so she could explain it away.”

  “She could cover all three of their asses from her perch as head of HR,” adds Ian.

  “Wow, smart,” Jason says with awe. “Fucked up, but smart.”

  He was right about that.

  Ian really did call a buddy of his at the Bureau to call in a favor. His friend ran the social security numbers of the three in question. From there, they did a deeper search, discovering their familial relationship. The three used aliases but they always seemed to be a variation of their real names. For example, Bartlett was Miriam’s maiden name and Miriam was married once before to a guy named Dave Smith. Victor’s first name is James, so he’s gone by Victor Smiley, James Smiley, as well as James Victor. Clever. Right?

  Nah. They’re terrible people. They don’t deserve to be called clever. That’s too nice.

  Reaching back, I grab Ian’s hand. “There she goes.”

  We all lean forward as Miriam leaves her office, making a beeline for the stairwell. Once inside, we turn our focus to another monitor. As soon as she pulls out her cell phone, Jason unmutes the sound in the stairwell.

  “You recording this?” Ian asks Jason.

  “Hell yeah. In HD.”

  Awesome.

  “Katie. Shut up and listen to me right now. You need to ditch the phone,” hisses Miriam into her cell phone.

  We watch Miriam as she appears to be listening to her daughter.

  “Don’t question me, you little shit. Go on break, walk down the street, and toss that thing in the river.” She pauses. “I know there’s no river close by; just stomp on it and chuck in the trash.” She’s about to hang up when she adds, “And pull the fucking sim card out and break it the fuck up.” She’s listening again. “Jesus fucking Christ. For once in your goddamn life, listen to me. Do. It. Now.”

  She pauses again.

  “Well I don’t know. Alls I know to do is destroy the phone. You and your stupid dad are the tech geniuses.” Then she mutters, “Some fucking tech geniuses. We’re going to get caught if you don’t do what I say. We need to get gone before they figure it out about me and Vic. They’re already on to you, Katie. Now do as I fucking say.”

  She presses the end call button, and then dials another number.

  “Vic. They know. That cock-sucker Ian figured it out.”

  Jason snickers and I giggle at her calling Ian that name.

  “He’s going to get the Feds in on this. We need to destroy everything. Move the money.” Pausing again, she whines, “Why the fuck don’t you two ever listen to me? Move. The. Fucking. Money.” Her voice is now at shouting level. “Now!”

  She hangs up, leans against the wall, rests her head back and looks up.

  “Smile. You’re on Ian’s camera.” Jason sing-songs.

  Miriam must have seen the camera because her eyes have grown round and a tad buggy. She holds up her phone but thinks better of it. Instead, she scurries out of the stairwell.

  I giggle again because nerves, and because this is so frigging exciting. “This is the most fun I’ve ever had. God, I want to be a private dick.”

  “You don’t have the equipment, darlin’,” chuckles Jason.

  “Shut up, asswipe. She means private detective.”

  Ignoring Ian’s dig, Jason coos, “Come work with us. You’d be a pretty addition to the crew.”

  “No,” I mutter. “You didn’t just say that.” Jason sure can be creepy.

  “He did,” says Ian, watching the monitors.

  “What?” Jason asks, confused.

  “You’re too young to be such a sexist idiot, Jason.”

  “I’m not sexist. I love women.”

  I groan loudly. “You need to take a class or something.” I turn to Ian. “Can you make him take a class?”

  “I’ll get on that, honey.”

  “Oh, look.” Jason chuckles. Obviously changing the subject. We all watch as Victor attempts to knock the camera down with a broomstick. “There are three other cameras in that stairwell, dickwad, and they’re all twenty feet up.” mutters Jason. “Good fucking luck.”

  Chapter 32

  Ian

  With the sting in motion, we watch from our tiny office. Honestly, I’m surprised to see how all three of the Smileys have done exactly what I’d hoped they’d do. On one monitor, we watch as Camille rushes out of her cubicle with her purse and a small box in her hands. My guess is she was already packed up, prepared to flee if need be. I don’t think she has any intention of returning to H&S, today or ever. But her plans have been dashed thanks to the plainclothes officers who stop her as she’s exiting the
building. That was the deal we made with Mills. If at all possible, we’d get them outside the building, in the hopes there’d be less press.

  After Victor Smiley gave up on batting down the cameras, we watched him drop the broom, and make a break for it, running down the back stairs while Miriam screamed obscenities at him. I called down to inform the police that he’d be exiting out the back. I’m sure they got him too, but I’ll make sure of it in a couple minutes.

  Finally, we observe Miriam doing her best to calm herself. Straightening her blouse that has risen up in the attempted camera removal process, she steps back onto the thirteenth floor. Switching monitors, we see her about to enter her office, but she changes her mind. Instead, she moves up to Drake’s door. It’s closed, and for good reason. Brad Mills is in there with a few of Arizona’s finest. Unfortunately for Miriam, she doesn’t know that. Without knocking, Miriam steps through the door and freezes. I can tell the exact moment she realizes that the jig is up because she twirls around on one foot and tries to make a run for it. This time it’s a uniformed officer who reaches out, grabs her forearm, brings it back behind her back, and cuffs her.

  “Wow, that was freaking amazing,” says Agatha in awe. “I can’t believe how well everything worked.”

  “So far, yeah. Now we just gotta hope Victor did what Miriam told him to do.”

  “Move the money?”

  “If he did, we’ll have a record of everything, even account numbers.”

  “I hope,” whispers Agatha.

  I reach out and place my hand on the back of her neck and squeeze lightly. “If we don’t get it that way, one of those three will give it up. They seem like three people who’d throw each other under the bus for less.”

  “That’s very true.” Agatha’s voice has a sadness to it.

  Leaning down, I whisper in her year, “I’m sorry about your friend, honey.”

  “Me too, Ian. Me too.”

  “People suck,” grumbles Jason.

  It was an unexpected comment that makes us all laugh. Something we all needed after such a stressful week and intense morning.

  Chapter 33

  Agatha

  Five days after Operation: Shoe Sting. (Get it? Shoe sting, not shoe string. Ha!)

  “And that’s how we did it.” Sitting at the end of our long table at Murphy’s, I hold up my glass of amber goodness and wait for the table full of family to clink glasses in celebration of the fact that the bad guys are behind bars and I’m no longer suspected of stealing a million bucks from my employer.

  It’s been five days since we were able to unravel and prove me innocent of any and all embezzlement claims made by Drake and Miriam. After the three were arrested, Ian’s theory about them throwing each other under the bus was proven correct. They all sang like birds in a cage. Thanks to Victor, they were able to locate the money. Miriam was fingered as the ring-leader by both Victor and Camille, I mean, Kate. Miriam, surprisingly, kept her mouth shut. She was, apparently, more loyal than the other two.

  “So, what happens next?” asks Violet. “Are you going back to work for H&S?”

  “No way,” grumbles Ian.

  He’s still angry about the way they treated me. Probably angrier than I am, to be honest. It turns out Miriam has been sabotaging me for years; telling Drake lies about me, my work ethic, and my intelligence, all to keep me right where I was, next to Camille’s office. Drake claimed to be as much a victim as I was, but Brad Mills didn’t buy it. He fired Drake after he saw the footage of Drake’s profanity-laden responses during Ian’s performance in conference room 3.

  Mr. Mills also approached me about returning to work, ‘with a promotion’, of course.” I’m sure he realizes that I could sue. I was wrongfully terminated, I was skipped over for promotions numerous times, all because Drake was too busy sleeping in his office and having affairs (no comment) to take the time to get to know his employees. In the end, I told Brad Mills I didn’t feel like working at H&S was in my best interest and that I hoped he would clear my employment records of anything disparaging that Miriam and Drake cooked up about me. I also told him that I expected a glowing recommendation for any future job opportunities. The truth is, though, I should sue. Ian wants me to. My sisters and father want me to, but it seems like it’ll just bring back all of the emotional stuff and it will prolong all of this. I just want to move forward from here.

  “No, I’m not going back to work for H&S.” I turn to Ian and smile. “I’m going to become a private dick.”

  I turn to my family and watch the varied reactions of my declaration. Keely spits out the drink she was in the middle of taking. “Private dick?” she giggles.

  Lainie looks surprised, Sadie throws her head back, laughing, Violet winks at me, and my dad just smiles and says, “You’d be a natural, sweetie.”

  I smile back.

  “Your Mom always said you were going to be a cop.”

  “Jesus. Please no. Not a cop,” groans Keely. She’s got a thing against cops.

  Ignoring my baby sis, I ask, surprised, “She did?”

  “Yep, either that or a spy.” He chuckles.

  “Well, she tried the spy game a few weeks ago. Disguise and all,” Ian says as he wraps his arm around my shoulders.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to hear about this.” Keely scoots up closer to the table, leaning in to listen. “Spill, sis.”

  “Okay, well…” So, I do. I tell them about my feeble attempt to sneak back in to H&S to gather evidence disguised as a caterer. I also tell them about the stake out and the six hours Ian and I spent sitting outside of The Smileys’ place in Mountainaire, Arizona. I didn’t mention the hanky-panky in the backseat at about hour three.

  What? We had to do something to stay awake.

  “So, Ian?” Lainie asks as she holds my free hand. “What’s next for you? Are you going back to Phoenix?”

  Here we go. Leave it to Lainie to cut right to the chase. Hell, Ian and I haven’t even discussed what was going to happen next.

  I slowly turn my head to him to see his arched brow directed at me. Holding my hand over my heart, I say, pleadingly, “I didn’t put her up to that. She’s a free-spirit.”

  “Damn straight,” grumbles Keeton.

  God, I love that she found her person. Someone who loves her with his whole heart. I know he’d take a bullet for her. Literally. I’ve never, ever, seen her happier than she is right now, and no one is more deserving than she is. The truth is, I feel that way about my entire family. We all deserve love––to find our person. The question is, did I find mine?

  “Well, honestly, I don’t know,” Ian says to Lainie.

  My face falls a little bit, but I do my best to hide the disappointment. He’s trying to let me down easy. Now I wish Lainie had kept her free-spirited trap shut.

  He continues, “I think it’s something that Agatha and I should discuss privately, but what I will say is it’s really her decision. I want to be with her, however she’ll have me.”

  “Aww,” coos every female at the table, and possibly my dad.

  “Really?” I feel my stupid eyes burn with tears. There’s no crying at Murphy’s.

  “Really,” he says, leaning close. “I love you, Agatha Palmer.”

  “Y-you do?” I squeak. That’s it, the tears are-a-coming. I can’t hold ‘em back. Sniffling, I whisper in his ear, “Me too, Ian. Me too.”

  Ian pulls back suddenly, holding up his glass. “Well, I’m happy to report I’ll be putting my place on the market and moving north. How’s that?” he asks, looking right at Lainie.

  “Good. That’s great.” Lainie clinks her glass against Ian’s. “Welcome to the family, big brother.”

  “Oh, shit.” I mumble.

  “Shit just got real, eh sis?” Keely says as she leans halfway across the long table to tap Ian’s glass.

  Absolutely. Yes. Shit just got real.

  Chapter 34

  Ian

  One month later

  True to my w
ord, I put my place on the market and it sold in just three days. A small part of me wished I’d had a little more time but that’d be the scared pussy part of me. Selling my house and moving in with a woman I’ve known for only a couple of months is a risk but the more time I spend with Agatha, the more I like her. And I mean that. I like her. A lot. Yes, I love her too but to like someone and love them, that’s saying something.

  Honest to God, I can’t believe my luck. Who’d have thought that one consulting job could change my life so drastically? Not me. I assumed I’d spend the rest of my life alone, just hooking up with random women, never feeling anything more than lust. I get everything with Agatha: lust, love, passion, and sass. I get sexy Agatha, irritated Agatha, inquisitive Agatha, and fiercely loyal Agatha. I think I love that part of her most of all. I sincerely think she’d take a bullet for me and she absolutely knows I’d take one for her. Something Catherine didn’t seem to understand— about me, anyway.

  In retrospect, I’m not sure I actually liked Catherine. She was always so negative. Agatha is the opposite. Agatha’s fun to be with; she’s always up for an adventure, whether it’s a hike around Lake Powell or rummaging through a dusty antique shop looking for a treasure or making love in the middle of the day. I’ve loved those times together but my favorite moments with her are when we’re just out of bed and we’re sitting on her porch drinking coffee, doing the crossword together. I’ve never felt more intimate with a woman than at that moment. Plus, damn she’s smart. Agatha’s a crossword wizard. I feel like a genius if I’m able to come up with one correct crossword response.

  She’s not just fun, though. She’s passionate about the people in her life. Agatha loves with her whole heart. She can’t disguise love because it radiates off of her. It’s been a long time since I’ve been surrounded by family like this. As an only child to a couple who had me in their early forties and who thought they’d never have a child, I was showered with love and affection. I was spoiled, for sure. Sadly, my time with them was too short. I lost my mom when I was eighteen and my dad two years later. So, yeah, I’ve been on my own a long time (Catherine notwithstanding).

 

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