by Amy Saunders
Colleen pounced on her delayed reaction. "You're telling me you don't know why he really retired?"
"Of course I do." Belinda fought to sound convincing. "He hated the internal politics."
Belinda despised the look of counterfeit pity that crossed Colleen's face. "I can't blame him for telling you that. The truth is a little embarrassing."
What was embarrassing was some journalist knowing more about her boyfriend's past than she did. Belinda wasn't sure if she was more upset with Colleen or Bennett.
She was turning red against her will, and losing at any effort to look unfazed.
"So you see," Colleen said, "there are mutual benefits. You help me, and I might just share what I know about your boyfriend with you alone–and not the rest of Portside."
Belinda could have blown steam out of her nose. But not knowing the details.... She knew she had to swallow it and play this game like a good society girl. Play along, find out the truth, and squash Colleen like an ant.
A shiver went up her back at how genuinely soul-thirsty she was. And that she didn't feel an ounce of guilt about it.
"Fine," Belinda said in a voice that hardly sounded like hers. "I'll help you." And then annihilate you. But she kept that to herself.
Belinda grabbed some leftovers for lunch, then picked up Victoria after her doctor's appointment. They drove out of Portside down the busy four lane roads to where all the normal stores were, turning into the lot of a home improvement warehouse.
Victoria patted her bump. She and Baby Hart got thumbs-up on their health, and Victoria was now itching to get everything the baby needed–all in that afternoon. "It's time to get serious about this nursery room business."
Belinda followed her inside, heading down one of the main concrete aisles (more like a road), gazing up for signs leading to the paint department. The place needed a directory.
Victoria wrestled with her mondo purse, trying to find the paint samples she'd already collected and tried. "Everything goes to the bottom," she muttered while they slowed to a stroll.
It smelled like plywood and paint and numerous other chemicals. Belinda ushered Victoria along while she looked, thinking they should hurry up for the sake of Baby's health. "Why did you want to come here again? I thought you hired an interior designer."
"I did. But we have all these choices and I'm so slow at making choices. I figured it was better if I went ahead and picked out colors I like."
Belinda was pretty sure this negated having an interior designer in the first place, but it was Victoria's thing, and she was pregnant.
She had her moving at a more normal pace when they nearly collided with a man zipping out of the next intersecting aisle.
Belinda managed to stop in time, recognition sinking in for her and the guy in front of them simultaneously. "Bennett." She paused, noticing the telltale apron tied around him. A blotch of red crawled up his neck. "You're working here?"
"I can't talk right now." Before she could even say good-bye, Bennett shot off down another aisle.
The place was the New York City of stores. If she didn't chase after him now, she'd never find him again, especially now that he knew she was here and wanted to avoid her.
She left Victoria to find her samples and ran after Bennett, who deserved some sort of medal for his fast walk. Even when she caught up to him, taking note of the rows of drawer knobs they passed, she still had to jog to keep in step. "How long have you been working here?"
Bennett stared straight ahead, the flare of pink across his skin intensifying again. He didn't embarrass easily, but this definitely embarrassed him. She felt bad about it, but she did want to know these things. "Just started."
"Were you going to tell me?"
He hesitated. "No."
That was delightful. She had to chase her boyfriend through a store to find out he worked there. And she'd basically been chasing him down to learn anything about his current circumstances lately.
"I figured you'd never show up here," he went on.
"So you were just going to leave me to guess how you're taking care of yourself?"
He didn't say anything.
"Are you going to fill me in about anything?" She felt a lump forming at the bottom of her throat. Any number of things could be going on in his life and she wouldn't know–unless she stumbled on the information without his consent.
They came to the "Employees Only" set of swinging doors and Bennett finally stopped and looked her in the eye. "I've got a customer waiting," he said.
"I don't want things to be like this." She knew she sounded desperate, and she didn't like it.
Bennett pushed the door open, glancing back. "Neither do I." He went through, and the dust-covered black door swung back behind him.
She felt like she'd gotten smacked in the face by that door. She ran back to the car, cranking the AC and leaning back in the seat, determined not to sob. The other door opened and Victoria maneuvered inside.
"That bad?" she said like she'd heard the whole conversation.
Belinda just nodded.
"He's just embarrassed," Victoria said.
"I don't care where he works."
"Sweetie, he's a man. Work is very intertwined with how they see themselves."
"This isn't pride." Belinda opened her eyes. "He's not telling me anything because he's mad at me."
"Well, of course. If you'd ruined my whole life, I'd be mad at you too."
Belinda choked down the lump in her throat. This wasn't a total surprise. He'd been evasive, at best, about nearly everything once his life started going downhill. It was not knowing what to do about it that really scared her. Or if there was anything she could do about it.
Belinda choked down the good cry she was tempted to have right there in the car, telling herself she needed to be strong for Bennett. His hands were full; she needed to do everything she could to help and support him.
So she focused on what she could do. She could get rolling on her promise to find that thief. A tall order, perhaps, but not out of reach.
"Are you and the lima bean up for a little investigating?" Belinda said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Her emotional breakdown would have to wait.
Victoria's hand went to her bump. "We're always up for some investigating. What are we looking into?"
"That thief. I declared I was going to find him, and I will."
"Then let's do it!"
Belinda sped them back into Portside, and parked in front of the general building Portside House Cleaning was located in. They were on a main cross street, not far from the market where Bennett had stalked her.
The office staffed a receptionist, so they sat in the small waiting area until she finally ushered them down a corridor toward a back office.
A young woman came out of the office at the same moment, eyes cast to the floor.
"Hi, Christina," Belinda said as they passed.
"Ms. Kittridge!" Christina had realized she was not a "Mrs.," which was a huge relief. Her face brightened instantly from the serious expression she'd had a second before. Then it changed to alarm. "Is everything okay?"
Belinda could almost see Christina's heart beating in her eyes. She probably thought Belinda was here to complain about something she did–or didn't do–when she cleaned. "I just have a question. It's no big deal."
Christina relaxed and smiled. "Well, see you next week!"
The receptionist stood with a big smile plastered on her face until they went in and she shut the door. The manager leaned across the desk and shook their hands, then crashed into her seat.
"What can I do for you?" Carolyn Hartley said. She had the computer monitor cocked to the side, and it looked like she had a file open.
"I wanted to talk to you about some concerns I have," Belinda said.
Carolyn's friendly face went slack. She changed modes, like this was becoming a pattern. "I assure you the death of Ms. Campos won't affect your routine at all."
She recited it word for
word like she'd already said it a million times. Her tone was sympathetic and respectful, yet somehow perfectly emotionless.
Ironically, Elena had already been fired before she was killed. The company would still be short a house cleaner.
"I was sorry to hear about that," Belinda said, "but that's not why I came." It occurred to her that the manager may have seen her on the news when Elena's body was found, but Carolyn didn't show any signs of recognition.
The manager switched to Mode C without missing a beat, clasping her hands on the desk and giving a reassuring smile. "I know the rumors about an alleged neighborhood thief are unsettling, but I promise we take every precaution to ensure that you can trust us and our staff. We check every person we hire thoroughly for any history of theft, and we have redundancies to ensure no key is ever misplaced or confused with other keys."
That all sounded nice and tidy, like a company brochure, except that Belinda knew they didn't always live up to their policies in the employment department. If Elena had slipped through, maybe someone else had, too.
"The keys are stored in a locked cabinet." The manager waved either in the direction of the cabinet, or for general effect. "And we have a top notch security system..." Carolyn glanced up over the top of her glasses, stopping the report. The receptionist peeked through a crack in the door and mouthed something. The manager nodded, her face growing unsettled. "Please excuse me for one moment."
Carolyn hustled around her desk and out into the corridor, closing the door behind her. Belinda and Victoria exchanged a glance, and Belinda shot out of her seat to the computer, while Victoria kept her eyes and ears on the door.
Belinda's file was pulled up on the screen, and a quick scan showed all the vitals–address, key number, and security code. She clicked on the employees' tab at the top of the database. It was a list, and they didn't have that many people working for them. And not a single man. Belinda opened Elena's file. There was no indication she'd been laid off, but maybe it had all happened too fast.
"Hurry," Victoria hissed.
Belinda focused. She found a work schedule, and discovered most of the houses had teams, up to three people, cleaning them. Elena was still on the schedule, even for upcoming dates. The last person she'd been paired with was Belinda's house cleaner, Christina. Before that it was someone else, but it looked like on certain days, the teams were the same, which might mean the same teams typically cleaned the same houses. Belinda pulled up Elena's last cleaning job, when Victoria went nuts waving her over.
Belinda clicked on her file again and almost tripped on the desk corner, stabbing herself in the ribs. She rubbed the sore spot, trying to appear calm and not like she'd just been snooping through confidential files.
"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting." Carolyn sat back down, looking like she could use a stiff drink. "Where were we?"
After many assurances later that Belinda's house was safe in their hands, Belinda and Victoria left the manager to deal with whatever had blown up when she left the room. Despite trying her best, Carolyn was never totally present again for the rest of their meeting.
"I wish I'd had time to e-mail the schedule," Belinda said. "It looked like the same people clean the same houses all the time. There could be a correlation if I could've matched the people to the houses they clean, and then to the houses that were robbed."
"Allegedly." Victoria stretched the seat belt around and buckled it in. "But you would have to go back to before they were robbed. I'm sure none of them are still clients. They probably started the rumors."
That was true. Belinda gave her a synopsis of her findings.
"No men, huh?" Victoria said. "Then it's probably a boyfriend or something."
"He could be working with one of the women. Maybe the house cleaner just supplies the info, but he does the actual stealing."
"The girl probably acts as a scout, finding the valuables. But maybe it's too risky to actually steal on the job."
"So how do they pass the keys on?"
"The house cleaner probably makes copies while she has them."
Belinda spun out of the parking spot. "That could be tricky since most of the time they have at least one partner for each job. The key could go to one of the other cleaners. Plus, you'd have to have enough time alone to make the copy."
Victoria shrugged. "I never said it would be easy. But think about it. A lot of these homes are huge, hence why they team up. Think about your family's home. All you'd need to do is volunteer to go grab the key, go to your designated wing of the house, and copy the key. You can scout out the valuables while your partner is off cleaning a different section. No one's the wiser."
Belinda was either amazed by that assessment, or horrified. "You really scare me sometimes."
"Thank you. But, seriously. If they want to, these people are in a perfect position to know your schedule and become well-acquainted with your house, then pass that on to their partner. In, out, done." She brushed her hands together.
Belinda was starting to feel an urge to turn around and demand her key, except it was too late. She'd already been robbed, so what was the point? That was why a lot of people she knew had safes. But, then, the house cleaners might know that, too. They'd know who was vulnerable, and who wasn't.
"Were there cameras in that office?" Belinda said. "I didn't even think to look."
"Well, good thing you have moi, 'cause I did. There are no cameras–at least visible or obvious."
"Okay. So provided the keys are locked away in the manager's office, presumably anyone could walk in there without getting caught."
"Presumably." Victoria had an idea, Belinda could tell by how she squinted her eyes. "If your thief is a pro, then he may have been arrested for theft before."
"That doesn't narrow the field for us much. He could be from anywhere."
"Let's assume he's connected to someone in Portside House Cleaning and lives in Rhode Island. The arrest would've been reported."
"All I have is a face. Not even a photo, just a memory."
"Then we better get crackin'. We have a lot of news reports to filter through."
Chapter 8
Bennett had run out of things to clean. His house wasn't that large, nor his new car, and it hadn't taken long to give everything a thorough washing. Belinda didn't understand, but it's how he kept his sanity (though she no doubt thought the opposite) when things were going badly. It was something in his control that he could focus on.
After Belinda had found him in his new job, he went home after work and ran until the sun was setting and he felt like he'd drop. He collapsed on the beach until after dark and just watched the waves. If he'd had his kayak still, he probably would've rowed out to sea. He never expected her to discover he worked there. It wasn't the kind of store she normally went into, and she'd caught him completely off guard.
It wasn't even that he was embarrassed, though deep down he had to admit that was a factor. It was mostly that he purposely didn't tell her, and she knew that and it hurt her. And he wasn't even sure he wanted to apologize.
Despite that, he kept checking his phone for messages, in denial that he was waiting to hear from her. No message came, and he felt too stupid to send her one.
The next night after work, he went for another run, this time with less abandon on the Ocean Walk. He took the path that wound around the old mansions, dodging other runners and walkers and regular old tourists. He didn't really see any of them, focusing on his music and his destination, and not on his less pleasant thoughts. Like when he first met Belinda and saw her from under that arch he just passed through, and pulled leaves out of her hair. He still hadn't heard from her, or had the gumption to contact her himself. He pushed that thought away and pumped harder.
His hearing was blocked by music and he had tunnel vision, so he didn't hear or see the person waving and calling his name. Not until that same someone caught up to him and tugged on his arm.
Bennett halted, irritated, and yanked the buds out o
f his ears. He thought it might be Belinda, but when he turned, he stared into a face he hadn't seen in years.
"Bennett!" Alexa Dupuis smiled up at him, and after hesitating, he was forced into an awkward hug. "How are you?"
She asked it genuinely, and didn't seem the least bit taken aback to see him. It had been years. But the last time they saw each other was right before the big scandal with her dad broke out, and she wouldn't see him or talk to him. Then he lost his job, and that was that. He never cared if he saw her again, and from what Belinda indicated, Alexa had spent a lot of time in other parts of the world since college.
But here she was now, right in front of him, and he was completely at a loss as to how to answer her question.
How about: I'm fine, except that I'm losing everything again because of a woman.
"Still a man of few words, I see," she said, stepping back. She was blonde now, instead of the darker brown hair she'd had when they dated, and it was shorter. When she moved her hand, a diamond glinted in the fading sunlight.
"You're married," he said.
"Almost." Alexa admired the large jewel on her finger for a moment. "Next summer. I hear you and Belinda Kittridge are dating. We went to high school together."
"I know." Bennett said it quickly, before thinking how it sounded, but Alexa took it in stride.
"Of course you do. But you haven't answered my question yet. How are you?"
"Fine, fine. How are you?"
Alexa gave him a sideways glance. "I was expecting a little better than 'fine' out of you. Don't you own your own company now? And you're dating Belinda, which is no small achievement. She was often desired, but rarely interested. In her defense, it was a small dating pool. I guess she just needed to cast a wider net." Alexa grinned.
"Often desired, but rarely interested"? Bennett hadn't heard that before. But he'd never talked to anyone who saw Belinda objectively.
If Alexa thought everything in his life was wonderful, she'd clearly been out of town. "Life isn't always perfect." Bennett shrugged.
