Page 33 of Thicker Than Water
“But those arehiscustomers,” I say to Sienna. “Two of them are, at least. How could they have gotten this discount without him knowing? Wouldn’t Jason have been the one to send them their contract?”
“Wait, some of these areJason’scustomers?” Maeve asks.
I nod and she scrunches her nose, musing over the page some more.
“Well, if that’s true,” she says, “Jason wouldn’t necessarily know about the discount. Every now and then, Gavin steamrolls over the sales reps and sends a contract off himself—writes out a little note of thanks on his personal stationery. He insists it’s the kind of ‘attentive touch’ that elevates us above the…”
As Maeve trails off, Sienna cringes. “?‘Attentive touch’ is a really gross phrase. I feel itchy now.”
Maeve doesn’t respond to Sienna’s quip. Instead, her eyes probe the air a few inches above the notebook, swinging back and forth.
“Oh god,” she finally says. “That’s what he’s been doing this whole time. It wasn’t about a personal touch; it was sohecould manipulate the price! Keep control of the money. I amsuchan idiot. Of course ‘attentive touch’ is bullshit.”
Maeve looks winded by the realization. She passes the notebook back to Sienna, who snaps it shut.
“See?” Sienna says to me. “Jason wouldn’t have known.”
It nags at me, though, tugging my mind in different directions. I can’t find the connection between Jason’s “bad investment” and the cash from these backdoor deals, but for some reason, I keep trying to tie them together, keep thinking of our drained vacation account when I look at these shoeboxes of money. I know it doesn’t make sense—it was a withdrawal from our account, not a deposit—and a few months ago, I wouldn’t have even considered it possible that Jason might have participated in fraud. But that was when I knew my husband to be practical, protective, not a man who’d secretly gamble a chunk of our savings.
How well do you know this man?
Not enough, it turns out, to believe without a doubt that he’s innocent of Gavin’s scheme.
“Maeve, you need to tell the police about this,” Sienna says.
“What?” Maeve falls back a step. “Why?”
“Because this could be evidence in Gavin’s murder. Maybe one of these deals went bad. Or maybe he was partnering with someone and they wanted to take the money all for themselves.”
“Then why is it still here?” Maeve asks.
It’s a good question. And when my mind flits to Jason in his hospital bed—incapable of moving his own body, much less piles of cash—I swat the thought out of my head, forcing my attention back to the women in front of me.
“I don’t know,” Sienna says. “But the cops are looking for financial motive. And from where I’m standing, there’s thousands of motives right here in these boxes.”
Maeve shakes her head, her shiny red hair swishing over her shoulders. “I can’t show this to the cops.”
“Why not? What’s the point in protecting Gavin? He’s dead, for one thing.”
“I’m not protecting Gavin, I’m protecting myself!”
Sienna’s gaze whittles to a sharp point. “What?”
“What if they think I’m involved? I do the books!” Maeve shifts farther from the gutter machine. “No. No way. I told you yesterday, I’m trying to get my store off the ground—I can’t do anything to jeopardize that.” As if to demonstrate, she tugs at the hem of her sweater, which I recognize as one of her own pieces by the delicate emerald leaves along the collar.
“Well,wecan’t turn it in.” Sienna wags a finger between the two of us. “Our lawyer specifically advised us against investigating—”
“He did?” I interject.
“—and it’ll be suspicious as hell if the family of the primary suspect just happens to stumble upon all this evidence.”
“Well, what was your plan, then?” Maeve asks coolly. “Why’d you come looking for this if you couldn’t do anything with it?”
“I was hoping,” Sienna says, “to find something that pointedtoward aspecificsuspect. Which—okay, maybe that was optimistic of me, but it’s not like I have practice investigating murders.” She runs her hands through her hair, her fingers raking over her scalp. “And anyway,youwere the one who tipped us off in the first place.Youleft the warehouse unlocked. So you made yourself involved.”
“I wasn’t thinking thatthis—” Maeve gestures to the gutter machine, her arm arcing wildly. “I didn’t know he—”
“Look,” Sienna tries, “can’t you just call it in anonymously?”
