by Jada Ryker
Behind her, Marisa heard smooching sounds. She raised her head in surprise.
“I knew you two were close, but not that close.” Elizabeth Furlong posed in the doorway. “This is the most serendipitous moment of my day. You bitches have tried to block me every step of the way. Now if you want me to keep your explosive secret, you’re going to help me.”
Marisa surreptitiously swiped at her tears and exchanged a surprised glance with Tara. “What are you talking about, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief, sending her asymmetrical hair flying around her head. “I’m talking about you and your lover. Honestly, Marisa, I thought your interest was in a different corner.” She held up her phone. “Regardless, I have a picture of your canoodling.”
Tara snorted in derision. “Who under fifty says canoodling? Did you hear that word from your grandmother? Do you even know what it means?” Her tiny fists clenched and her petite body shook with fury. “You can’t blackmail us. We’ll take that phone—” Tara lunged.
Elizabeth held the phone high above Tara’s golden head. “You’re not even five feet tall. You’d need a ladder to reach the phone.”
Marisa squeezed Tara’s shoulder. “Keep your phone. You’re about fifty years behind the times. We’re not doing anything illegal, immoral, or unethical.” She turned her head from Elizabeth’s view and winked at Tara. She felt her friend’s body jerk in surprise.
Her full red mouth twisted in triumph, Elizabeth glided into the room. “The top leaders of the corporation are conservative males in their sixties and seventies. They may not overtly fire you for being lesbians, but they can surely find a pretext.” She waved her phone. “None of that has to happen. All you have to do is support me. I like it here, and I want to stay.”
“I knew you were after Alex’s job as Chief Financial Officer,” Marisa fumed.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Wrong. I don’t want the CFO job. I want the CEO job. I want to be the top leader of this hospital. Then, I’m going to climb the corporate ladder.”
Tara stepped away from Marisa. “Elizabeth, that’s a paradox. If the corporate leaders are so narrow-minded they’d fire Marisa and me over a romantic relationship, they wouldn’t put a female in a position of power.”
Elizabeth danced in place with her cell phone. “You don’t think yours is the only incriminating picture on this phone, do you?” She stopped and glared at them. “And stealing my phone won’t help you. Everything is backed up in my email.”
Tara advanced on Elizabeth. “Forget trying your games on us, Elizabeth. Thanks to Marisa, one administrator is in jail. Also because of Marisa, the man who replaced him was fired and is being divorced by his powerful wife. If you cross Marisa, what do you think will happen?”
Elizabeth stalked from the room and slammed the door.
“Tara, I don’t think it’s entirely my fault the two previous administrators were let go. You make me sound like a Machiavellian manipulator.” Marisa fanned her hot face. “Plus, it will take more than me to scare Elizabeth Furlong.”
Tara slid her behind onto the desk. “We need ammunition!” She pivoted and fell into the desk chair. She rolled to the computer and her fingers flew over the keys.
Marisa laughed. “You should have your own tumbling act in Vegas. I’m sure it would beat Elizabeth’s favorite show, Prancing with the Stars.” She rounded the desk to peer over Tara’s shoulder. “Ah. Ammunition. I see.”
“Yep. I’m googling the bitch.” She rubbed her hands in glee and tossed her blonde curls out of her porcelain face, shining with anticipation.
* * * * *
Marisa scooted her behind onto the desk and swung her leg. “Don’t you think it’s odd we only found information on the internet about Elizabeth in the last twenty years or so?”
“We know she’ll be forty years old on her birthday this year. That leaves a huge blank in her life.”
Marisa rolled her eyes. “You know her age because you hounded me into looking it up in the system.”
“All’s fair in love and threatened blackmail, Marisa. That leaves the first half of her life with zero search results.” Tara propped her feet on the desk. “Add to that everything in the past two decades is squeaky clean. What if she blackmailed someone, just like she tried to blackmail us? The blackmailer tried to kill her to keep his secret safe. Then, Elizabeth killed him in self-defense.”
“If it was self-defense, then she wouldn’t get prison time or end up with a criminal record,” Marisa mused.
“I could ask Dreamus to do a search for a criminal history. He is a police lieutenant.”
“He wouldn’t abuse his power to satisfy our curiosity.” Marisa shook her head. “Regardless, I had a criminal check run on her when we found her through the headhunter. It was perfectly clean, without even a parking ticket.”
Tara shrieked. “No one has such a pristine record! I know she has a secret past.”
Marisa was skeptical. “She’s risen in the for-profit ranks, and she has a stellar work record. She couldn’t climb the corporate ladder with a major scandal attached to her ankle like her own Pandora’s box, clanging against the rungs.”
Tara pounced. “That proves my theory. She’s a very ambitious woman. If Elizabeth does have a sordid past, she’d do anything to erase it so it wouldn’t interfere with her ambitions.”
“I could see her doing anything to promote her agenda,” Marisa admitted.
“Not just her agenda.” Tara leaped to her feet and slapped the desk top. “What if the family of her victim is on her trail? He or she is determined to exact bloody vengeance. When he catches up with Elizabeth, he’ll kill her in a particularly bloody and painful way! He’ll torture Elizabeth. Perhaps he’ll cut off her feet and end her dancing days forever—”
“Tara!” Marisa wasn’t sure if her friend’s theory was funny or appalling, or both.
“Our search and the criminal background check didn’t show a thing,” Tara said. “What if Elizabeth is using someone else’s identity?”
Marisa frowned, trying to keep up with her friend’s conversational leapfrog. “Do you mean Elizabeth Furlong isn’t her real name?” She shook her head in defeat. “How could we prove it?”
“Easy! We get her fingerprints and her DNA. Then, I use my womanly wiles on my police lieutenant boyfriend.” Tara batted her eyelashes.
“Dreamus runs it through the national database. And then we know Elizabeth’s secret identity!” Marisa wracked her brain. She brightened. “On television and books, people give the suspect a water bottle, and then take it back with her fingerprints and her DNA from her saliva.”
“The best way is to get her fingerprints and her DNA voluntarily, with a fingerprint kit and a DNA kit. I’ll order one online.” Tara’s fingers flew over Marisa’s computer.
“She’s already tried to blackmail us,” Marisa said. “She’s smart, savvy, and would know what we’re up to. She’d never agree.”
Tara pumped a fist. “That’s why we have to trick her! We’ll find someone to pose as a representative of the television show Prancing with the Stars. In order to get her on the show, the representative must have her fingerprints and DNA sample.”
“There’s a fatal flaw in your plan, Tara. If she does have a sinister past, she’d never risk revealing it. Millions of obsessed viewers would dig into her past like determined terriers.”
“That’s the beauty of the plan.” Tara laughed. “Elizabeth needs something to differentiate her from the other contestants. Her checkered past is an asset and would draw viewers to her. She’d use it as her own coin of the realm to gather votes.”
“There is no television show and no viewers!” Marisa threw up her hands.
“She won’t know that.” Tara snapped her fingers. “We’ll convince your friends Clara and Fred to pose as employees of the show. We’ll outfit them with fingerprint kits and a DNA swab kit.”
“Tara, you’ve lost your mind. They won’t agree to help. Cl
ara was the lunch lady at my elementary school. She’s enjoying her retirement. Fred is a bus driver, and Clara’s boyfriend.”
Tara shook Marisa. “And Fred is a member of your addiction support group.”
Marisa narrowed her eyes.
“Don’t take that attitude with me. No one’s confidentiality or anonymity was violated. Remember, Fred rallied the area support groups to your rescue when you were investigating Jonah’s murder. He announced his membership in the group to everyone that chaotic night when he delivered a bus load of addiction support group members to the nursing home to save your ass.”
When Marisa stubbornly shook her head, Tara frowned in thought. “Anyway, I think Elizabeth has to deal with a more imminent threat.”
Marisa rubbed her forehead, her mind reeling with Tara’s colorful changes of subject. “Imminent threat? What do you mean?”
“Andrea!” Tara reminded Marisa. “She was furious with Elizabeth today. I wouldn’t be surprised if Andrea kills Elizabeth—”
“Tara, I don’t think Andrea would murder someone because she compared her to a badger. And the original parallel was drawn by Andrea’s former employee.”
“We still have a bitch on the loose with major holes in her past.” Tara crossed her arms.
Marisa bit her lip. “What if she paid a hacker to scrub her online persona?” She sighed. “I’d need a super hacker to clean up my past.”
Tara cocked her head at the glum tone in Marisa’s voice.
Marisa continued, “Alex seems fine with my past. But I wonder what he really thinks of it. Sometimes I wish I could hire a super hacker for my brain and just wipe out some of the incidents—”
Tara rose and gripped Marisa’s shoulders. “Stop that. You don’t have anything to regret.”
Marisa pulled free of Tara’s clutching fingers. “Oh, sure, one of these days, I’ll write a sizzling memoir and make a ton of money. Remember that congressman—”
“Shhh!” Tara released Marisa to put her fingers to her lips. “Don’t give the information away to Elizabeth. She lurks the halls to scoop up juicy gossip.” She snapped her fingers. “Speaking of juicy gossip, I meant to tell you about Mrs. Kenton. She won fifty million dollars in the lottery.”
Marisa pushed away her personal black cloud of regrets. “I remember Mrs. Kenton when she was a resident at the nursing home. She seemed so out of it, sprawled in her wheelchair with that ragged baby doll clutched to her chest. After the fire, Mrs. Kenton was off the strong medications and out of the wheelchair. When I saw her at the assisted living center a few months ago, she was positively spry. And now she’s won a mega jackpot. How lucky for her.”
“I’m not sure if it’s good or bad,” Tara said. “You remember her daughter died twenty years ago in a fire? Mayla Kenton was a gorgeous twenty-year-old college student, attending the University of Louisville on a music scholarship. Mrs. Kenton announced she’ll give the entire jackpot to the person who can bring her killer to justice.”
“Wow!” Marisa frowned. “How is it a bad thing?”
“Dreamus had to go on television to talk about the case. He thinks Mrs. Kenton will be inundated by crackpots who’ll try and trick her out of the money.”
“You’re right. People will do worse things for less money.” Marisa shivered.
Tara shrugged into her snug purple jacket. “Let’s go tell Alex about the amazing development with Mrs. Kenton. He met her a few months ago.”
* * * * *
“Alex, it’s not fiscally responsible to pay a full-time human resources director. You can contract with a third-party human resources consultant. That way, you can just pay for the services you need.” Elizabeth Furlong laughed. “You’ll have an even healthier bottom line, with a larger bonus for yourself.”
Outside Alex’s slightly open office door, Tara’s chest swelled in outrage.
Marisa put a cautionary finger to her lips.
“Thank you for your suggestions, Elizabeth. But Marisa does excellent work, and I’m not eliminating her job. Now, I have work to do.”
Marisa heard the tapping of fingers on a keyboard.
“Alex, you work too hard.” Elizabeth sounded pouty. “How about having dinner with me tonight?”
“You were right.” Marisa grabbed Tara’s arm. “That bitch is trying to get rid of me and steal my boyfriend.” She kept her voice low.
“She doesn’t know about you and Alex.” Tara whispered back. “She thinks you’re in the midst of a torrid romance with me.” Her shoulders shook and she put her hand over her mouth.
Marisa dragged Tara along the corridor.
“Hey! I wanted to stay and hear Alex put her in her place.” Tara stared over her shoulder. “Don’t look now, but she’s stomping away from Alex’s office.”
Elizabeth’s body was stiff with anger as she passed them. She disappeared around the corner.
Tara turned to Marisa and squealed. “Did you say Alex is your boyfriend? Now that Elizabeth is determined to play all of the angles and has Alex in her sights, you decide he’s your boyfriend?”
Marisa clenched her fists. “I’m not sure what Alex is, boyfriend or otherwise. But I’m sure he doesn’t need that boa constrictor wound around him, cutting off his oxygen.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Ms. Forrest, we’ve heard you’re an excellent realtor,” Will Stanton said. “We’re desperate to sell.”
“Please, call me Dee.” The realtor touched the heavy bun at the back of her head. She pulled the lapels of her jacket straight. She glanced down her body. The pinstripes and the tailored lines disguised her huge bosom. The relaxed fit pants hid her curves and sculpted legs. A thick layer of pale foundation and beige powder covered her exotic features. A touch of nearly colorless pink lipstick thinned her full mouth, while clunky, plain glass eyewear lent a scholarly air.
“Dee, we decided to sell our home because it’s too close Lacey’s brother’s place.” His wrinkled face sagged as Will put his arm around his wife’s bent shoulders. “We could have our own Neighbors from Hell television show.”
No one will recognize me as Diana, the exotic dancer, the realtor thought in satisfaction. She focused on her new clients, frowning in sympathy. “Oh, no, that sounds terrible.”
Lacey Stanton nodded, her round ball of white hair bobbing above her distressed old face. “After our parents died, my brother Sam turned into a greedy, grasping fool. He believes I and our two sisters wanted to ‘cheat him out of his inheritance’. Mom and Dad eked out an existence on the old farm and didn’t leave much. Sam thought since he was the only male, he should inherit the farm.”
“My brother-in-law bought a computer so he could start meeting women online,” Will said. “He figured it would be akin to going to the animal shelter and picking out the dog he wanted. He’d click on the women he wanted to play with, and then he thought he’d simply choose one to go home with him.”
Lacey’s smile was devoid of humor. “He found out it wasn’t quite as easy as he thought it would be. After he got frustrated with online dating, he poked around on other areas of the internet. He stumbled across old-fashioned laws, like the eldest son inheriting estates in England.”
“That clinched it,” Will said. “Sam decided he was getting the old farmstead, and his sisters were out of luck. Lacey and the other girls had to hire a lawyer to get their shares under their parents’ will.”
“And now my brother is a bitter and mean old man,” Lacey said sadly. “He’s making our lives miserable. He even sent my sisters and me copies of his will. It says none of us are allowed to go to his funeral when he passes away.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, smearing the bright pink powder and leaving tracks of black mascara. “He was such a sweet boy. He taught me how to fish. I was squeamish, so he always baited the hooks and cleaned the catch. Now, he breaks our windows and ruins my flower gardens.”
“Lacey and I decided it’s not worth the fight. We’re in full retreat mode.” Will stared up at Diana. �
�Now, we need your help, Dee. We’ve heard you’re an excellent realtor who won’t try to pressure us or browbeat us into buying a house that’s not right for us.”
The conference room door opened. “Dee, may I speak to you for a moment?” Her mouth a grim slash across her pinched face, the newcomer grasped Dee’s arm and propelled her to the hall. She shook her finger in Dee’s face. “It’s my turn for the next walk-in client. You cut line to steal my sale.”
“Amber,” Diana said, “Mrs. Stanton called and asked for me by name. I made this appointment with them. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
“Dee, or whatever your name is, I’m onto you.” Amber hissed angrily, sending spittle flying.
She knows Dee is short for Diana, and I’m a stripper. Diana’s stomach clenched.
“You think you can waltz in here with a brand-new realtor license, trying your best to outdo me in sales. Your employment application shows you’re a freelance entertainer, but not what you do to entertain.”
This is my new life and you’re not taking it away from me. Diana pulled herself upright to her six-foot height and took a deep breath.
“Our rival Greenhouse Realty is constantly throwing parties and galas for their realtors.” Amber craned her neck and stood on her tiptoes to get her face as close to Diana’s as she could without a stepladder. “I bet you work for their catering staff. Greenhouse Realty decided to pay for your real estate training and license, and they sent you here to spy on us.”
Hoping her face was impassive, Diana let out her breath in relief. “That’s ridiculous.” Her voice rang with sincerity.
“You’re hiding something, and I’ll dig until I find it.” Amber was furious. “Then you’ll slink out of here in disgrace.”
Diana watched the enraged realtor stride back to her cubicle. What am I going to do about her? I can’t let her steal this chance from me because of her jealousy.
She slipped back into the conference room. “I’m sorry for the interruption, Mr. and Mrs. Stanton. I’ve selected some properties for us to view online as the first step. I can even use Google Earth to show you the neighborhoods. Would you like some coffee before we get started?”
