Page 91 of Love Is an Art
“That doesn’t seem safe.”
“He’s never seen me, so I think it’s okay.” I should have sat on the chair. He’s sitting way too close to me on this bed.
“I can come with you.”
“It’s okay. Trailing is actually pretty boring. And I really don’t need help. I’m quite capable of doing it on my own.”
“I’m not saying you’re not capable. You’re more than capable. Or I wouldn’t keep hiring you to save my career. But police officers and detectives always work in teams because two are better than one.”
He has a point.
“I thought we couldn’t be friends,” I say.
“We seem to make an excellent professional investigation team,” he says.
That’s not the direction I want this relationship to go in.
But spending a day together out of the office—even if it is trailing someone—might take this relationship in the direction that I do want it to go in.
“Great,” I say. “I’ll text you the details.”
“I think we have enough now to meet Roberto. I’ll text Roberto and ask if we can meet with him tomorrow before anyone arrives at the office.” He pulls out his phone and types quickly. Almost immediately, his phone beeps. “He said fine.” He glances at the manila envelope on the desk. “Are you sure you’re safe here? Maybe we should keep the adjoining door open.”
I move to the desk and open up my laptop to add these last revelations to our talking points for our meeting with Roberto. “I’m sure I’m safe tonight. If we don’t nail Pamela and Cameron tomorrow, then maybe not.”
His eyes widen.
“I’m kidding,” I say. “But we can keep the door open. And Iamrelieved that you’re with me and that I’m not here by myself.”
He takes a moment to absorb this. “I’m glad you suggested I come as well. I’ll knock before I open the door.”
Zeke disappears back into his room through the front door. I get ready for bed. I’m relieved we have some evidence now.
I unlock my side of the adjoining door, turn off the lights, and slide into bed.
There’s a click on his side, and then the door slightly opens. “Can I open it?”
“Yes.”
Zeke rustles about in his room, and then his lights go off.
“Good night,” he says, the deep timbre of his voice reaching out to me through the darkness. I turn onto my side. The sheets are crisp, like they’ve been starched. They smell of vanilla. His sheets rustle. My face flushes as I remember feeling the hard muscles of his back and the way he chuckled into my mouth and then said that tickles as my one hand moved to his back. And the way he tasted of peppermint. I hug my extra pillow. It’s going to be a long night. And we both need to be absolutely in top form tomorrow when we tell Roberto that Cameron and Pamela are stealing money from Comidas en Canasta.
Chapter twenty-nine
Zeke
WemeetRobertoat7 a.m. in the morning in his office. Behind his desk is a framed, red-and-blue painting. Along the side walls are pictures of him and his wife with two smiling boys. We sit in the two chairs in front of his desk. No couch.
I explain that we received an email alleging fraud, so we came down to investigate and write the investment status report at the same time. Tessa gives him a short memo outlining what we think Pamela and Cameron are doing: the fabricated invoices, the unknown bank account payment, the duplicate invoices for the couches, and the kickbacks from the restaurant vendors. It doesn’t look like much, but frauds generally start small to avoid detection.
“We didn’t hire anyone to do location scouting or provide design services,” Roberto says. He frowns.
I hand him the invoices for the office scouting and the design services.
“And what do you mean by kickbacks?” Roberto points at the last bullet point.
We explain further about our conversations with restaurant vendors. He looks horrified.
