Chapter 11
Vero unlocked the front door and stormed straight to the kitchen. She took the battery charger from its station on the counter, parked herself on the stool beside it, and plugged the short cord into her ankle monitor. She looked like a murderous Tesla.
Ramón headed to the fridge. He paused, pulling a sticky note off the front of it.
“What is it?” Javi asked, reading it over his shoulder.
“It’s from Mom. She and Norma are going to the gym after work. They said they won’t be home for dinner and we can heat up leftovers.” He reached into the fridge and took out a soda.
“Theo is number one on my personal list of suspects.” Javi cracked the lid of his soda before passing the can to Vero.
“What kind of asshole leaves his sleeping girlfriend alone in a frat house full of drunk guys? No wonder the jerk hasn’t been returning your phone calls.
He can’t testify for you without incriminating himself.
He’d be forced to admit where he went that night. ”
Ramón dug a bag of chips out of the cabinet and dropped them onto the table. “But if Theo did leave the party with some other girl, why didn’t he just tell the police who he was with and give himself an alibi?”
“It’s obvious the guy’s covering for himself,” Javi said. “If he tells the cops he left Vero passed out in his room, she’s off the hook and he’s on it. He probably left the party, drove back to campus, and let himself into Vero’s room to take the money.”
“How?” I asked, remembering the security pad beside the front door of the sorority house. “Wouldn’t he have needed a key card?”
“Anyone who lived there could have let him in,” Javi pointed out.
Ramón raised an eyebrow. “Ben said Theo left the party with a girl. What if that girl lived in Vero’s building? He could have used her to get in.”
We all paused to consider that. It wasn’t just a plausible theory.
It was starting to sound like a damn good one.
Theo would have had means and opportunity to take the cash for himself.
And the motive was obvious; what wouldn’t a broke college senior do to get his hands on two hundred grand if he thought he wouldn’t get caught?
“We should go to the police,” I said. “They can talk to Ben.”
Vero gave an emphatic shake of her head.
“Ben will only cover for Theo. And even if he does tell the cops he saw Theo leave the party, that still leaves me without an alibi. All that stuff about Theo leaving with some girl only makes things worse. You heard what Ben said: not even Jackson could say for sure who he saw in Theo’s car.
What if the cops suspect it was me? They might assume Theo and I stole the money together.
Apparently, everyone else does,” she added tartly. “I need to talk to Theo myself.”
“And get him to do what?” Javi asked doubtfully. “Admit he stole two hundred Gs and let you take the fall for it? There’s no amount of talking that’s going to get him to do that, V. If he thinks he’s got a solid chance of getting away with it, he’d be smarter to deny it.”
“And if we show up at his door and accuse him, he might skip town,” Ramón pointed out. “We’ll be right back where we started.”
Vero drummed her fingers on her crossed arms. “Then we’ll just have to find proof Theo took the money.”
“Ben said Theo’s slinging drinks at a sports bar,” Javi reminded us. “How hard could it be to figure out where he works?”
Vero sat up. “Give me your phone,” she said to her cousin. Reluctantly, he handed it over.
“What are you doing?” he asked as she tapped the screen.
“Searching for a list of local sports bars. There really aren’t that many. I’ve got a get-out-of-jail-free card tomorrow night for mass. We can probably visit all these bars in less than three— Hey!” she said when Ramón snatched his phone back.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, setting it out of reach of her charger. “What if that cop checks up on you and she sees you’re not at church tomorrow night?”
“What’s she going to do? Stake out the pews at St. Pete’s?”
“Ramón’s right,” I said to Vero. “It’s not worth getting you in any more trouble. And we’ll have more time to track Theo down if we don’t have a curfew to worry about. Leave the list to us. The three of us will handle it.”
On Saturday evening, Vero was still giving Javi, Ramón, and me the silent treatment.
She seethed quietly on her stool, charging her ankle monitor as Javi finalized our route to the local sports bars.
Norma and Gloria had left a pan of pork chops on the stove for us, along with a pot of rice.
They’d taped a note to the refrigerator before leaving the house, saying they had an errand to run before church and we should help ourselves to dinner.
I offered Vero a plate of food, but she turned her nose up at it, refusing to speak to me as I set it beside her on the counter.
When it was time for us to leave, Vero yanked her cord from her charging station and stormed out the back door, slamming it behind her. She jerked open a folding chair and sat down at the edge of the patio with her back to the house.
I considered trying to talk to her until she plucked a pair of pruning shears from her mother’s garden cart, snapping them open and closed in a mindless rhythm while she scowled into the forest. Javi, Ramón, and I were probably the last people she wanted to see right now.
She looked like she wanted to murder all three of us and was contemplating where to hide our bodies.
I went upstairs to change my clothes, peeking out her bedroom window to make sure she was still there before going to the bathroom to freshen my makeup.
I glanced at my phone as I brushed my teeth, hoping for a message from Nick.
When I didn’t find any, I decided to check in.
I sent a quick, breezy text, aiming for a tone that fell somewhere between Why haven’t you called oh god is something wrong and I completely trust you can handle my children.
Finlay: Hey, I miss you. How’s everyone there?
Nick: We’re good!
Finlay: Anything I need to know?
Nick: Nothing you need to know. We spent the afternoon at the park, picked up groceries on the way home, and I’m making Hamburger Helper for dinner.
Finlay: Is it strange that I find that a turn-on?
Nick: How would you feel if I said I did some laundry and mopped?
Finlay:
Nick: How’s everything at Norma’s? Any luck finding your witness?
Finlay: Not yet, but we tracked down a known associate and we might have a lead on his place of employment.
Nick: Is it strange that I find *that* a turn-on?
It was my turn to laugh.
Finlay: We can play detective when I get home.
Nick: Counting on it. Gotta go. Zach hid the remote. If I don’t find it, Delia might kill him. Love you.
I sent him a string of hearts, one for each of them.
Finlay: Kiss the kids. I love you, too.
A door banged shut in the hall. I cracked the bathroom door and peeped toward Vero’s bedroom. Her door was closed, and I heard the slam of a drawer inside it.
This wasn’t a grudge she was going to be quick to let go of, and a few hours alone might be the best thing for her.
My phone buzzed again, this time with a text message from Sylvia.
Sylvia: Call me. It’s urgent.
I dabbed on some lip gloss and ran a brush through my hair. I had only a few minutes to get ready before Javi and Ramón would be ready to leave, and I didn’t have time for this.
Sylvia: I’m serious, Finlay. This cannot wait.
With a muttered swear, I dialed Sylvia’s number.
“I’m on my way out to run an errand and I only have a minute, Syl. What’s the emergency?” If this had anything to do with the color of Nick’s underwear, I was hanging up.
“What’s this I’m seeing about you and your accountant breaking into a fancy PR firm and shaking the place down?”
My hairbrush clattered into the sink. “Where did you see that?”
“Remember your neighbor Stacey and that whole underwear thing? Some woman commented in Stacey’s thread, claiming to be a friend of the coworker of the sister of the receptionist at the PR firm in question.
She said you and your accountant blew in there yesterday like a tornado.
She said you had two private security guards with you and you made quite a ruckus. ”
“There must be some mistake. That definitely wasn’t me.”
“The receptionist claims she saw your ID.”
“It was an author photo. That doesn’t count!” I argued.
“So, it was you!”
“Fine! It was me! But you can’t believe everything you read on the internet, Syl. We didn’t shake anyone down, and we didn’t cause a ruckus.”
“She said you set off an alarm.”
“That was a technical glitch!” I buried my head in my hand. “Please tell me they didn’t share any photos.” I could explain away a rumor that we’d been there, but there was no way I could erase physical proof. Not without calling Cam.
“No photos. That would have caused quite a stir.”
I blew out a sigh of relief. Sylvia’s call only reaffirmed my decision to make Vero stay home during our reconnaissance mission tonight. The last thing we needed was for someone to ID her at a bar. “I’m sorry for the bad press, Syl. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“Don’t apologize. That little PR stunt got you twenty thousand new followers.”
My head snapped up. “It what?”
“You’re on fire, Finlay! Stacey’s crotch-watch hashtags really blew up.
Facebook, Instagram, X … it’s even on TikTok!
The poll had thousands of entries—boxer briefs were the general consensus, but I’m standing by my vote.
I’ve always pictured Nick as a tighty whities man myself, even if Mrs. Haggerty did say she saw him in a pair of those clingy red Jockeys once—she said he has nice thighs and he filled them out really well, by the way—but changing my vote would feel too much like cheating, and I wouldn’t want to spoil all the fun.
Stacey’s really good at coming up with content.
I was thinking we could offer her a job as your social media manager.
She’s got a gift for stirring up drama.”
“Tell me about it. Look, Sylvia. I really need to go.”
“One last thing … If you can send Jared some photos of those two hot security guards you took to the PR firm, that would be helpful. Preferably shirtless. We can share the pics on your fan page. Readers go crazy for that stuff.”
“Goodbye, Sylvia.” I disconnected the call.
“Finlay! You ready?” Javi called up the stairs.
“Coming!” I shouted back, giving myself one last look in the mirror. Was it my imagination or was I a little pale? Or paler than usual anyway. I slapped on some blush and knocked on Vero’s door.
“We’re leaving,” I called through it. “We’ll be home in a few hours. I’ll text you if we find Theo.” Vero didn’t answer, which I took to mean she was still pissed at me for siding with her cousin. “Want me to bring you back some ice cream? I can stop at the store on the way back.” Still no answer.
She could be angry with me all she wanted, I reminded myself. It didn’t change the fact that making her stay home was the right call.
I slung my purse over my shoulder and hurried downstairs, where Javi and Ramón were waiting for me by the door. They were both appropriately intimidating, in formfitting T-shirts, leather jackets, and steel-toed boots.
I tossed Ramón my van keys. “Let’s go find our witness.”