“My wife works hard,” Dmitri said proudly. “She buys her own car.”
Considering Ursula was a Russian immigrant who’d already reached the level of a red star manager who apparently received cash kickbacks, Evie bet she did work hard... at something.
“We’re saving to buy a house, so I can’t really spend this much.” Telling the truth had always been optional in Evie’s experience.
Dmitri’s aura brightened. “We bought our first home a few years ago. It feels good to have your own place. Maybe you want to look at this nice car over here? It’s not as pretty, but it’s a good car and will cost you less.”
Loretta flashed the phone report on the Mustang. It had been reported totaled by the insurance company just six months ago. Figures.
Evie was kinda liking the nasty little man who loved his home and his wife. She didn’t want to believe he knew the Mustang had been totaled, even if he was lying through his pretty false teeth. Evie hopped out and followed him to the Civic that Jax had already picked out. Jax quirked his eyebrows in an I-told-you-so gesture but remained silent.
The Civic was boring. She wasn’t handing over her driver’s license to a professional liar so she could take a test drive. Reuben’s text ended the so-far uninformative nattering.
ursula on her way
Oh cool. She could interrogate arctic blondie—who swore her staff wouldn’t do anything illegal.
Twenty
Roark’sdumb phone rang with an unknown number. He missed his smart phone, but they were too easily traced. If the feds were warning him off this case... What the hell had his da got himself mixed up in? Or was Conan’s warning just referring to Evie’s case? Hers involved murder, after all.
Always curious, he answered.
“Eh, bébé, I worrit about you!”
Roark blinked, checked the number, and put it on speaker. Pris hadn’t stopped the call forwarding? Roark opened the front door and waved the phone at Ariel. She didn’t look up until the scammer spoke again.
“How dat cold? You takin’ care?”
Roark smiled evilly. They’d only sent a few dollars through the money app to this creep, making it look as if Ellen had missed a decimal point or zero. He offered the phone to Ariel, who vehemently shook her head but watched him avidly.
His hack wasn’t ready, and this guy already had the app, so he couldn’t play him with the new version he was adapting.Think fast.Roark settled in a spare desk chair. “Who is this?” he asked in a nasal whine.
“Ah, pardon me. Is Ms. Ellen Broadhurst there?”
“No. You’re supposed to leave a message.” Roark dragged out the petulance for fun. He already knew where he was headed.
“I wish to speak to her, not leave a message.” The scammer had lost his smooth charm. “Is she there or not?”
“She can’t come to the phone. Are you her boyfriend?” Roark channeled an officer he’d had once, a wimp with the mind of a gnat who demanded respect for his minimal stripes.
“Eh, mebbe. When will she be home?”
“She won’t. If you tell me your name, I’ll have my other aunt call. I have better things to do.” He hoped that sounded suitably ominous and waited to see how it flew over. If nothing else, he might end the nuisance calls entirely.
“Whacha mean, she won’t? I got this prize I’m supposed to deliver. Has anything happened to her?”
Roark saw the big glittering hook hidden in the fake concern and decided running the line for a while might be fun. He flashed Ariel a smile. She handed him the spare phone she used for her game cameras. A second later, a text came through.say she’s dead?
my intenthe typed back while he wasted a few precious minutes of the asshole’s time. “Prize? What kind of prize?”
Satisfaction tinted the response. “A Cadillac. Ms. Broadhurst meant to send $295 for delivery, but only $2.95 came through. We were supposed to drop it off tomorrow. If the money can be wired now, there’s still time for delivery.”
Slick. The asshat had already assumed Ellen was out of the picture and was moving on to his next mark. How many times had theputain de merdepulled that maneuver? Well, at least he’d avoided the bad hoodoo of actually declaring her dead.
Losing his whine, Roark adapted an eager voice. “I’m sure Aunt Ellen meant to send $295. Tell me where to wire it, and I’ll see that it’s done.”
“That would be great.” The charmer was all business. “Your aunt used a money app to send the $2.95. Do you wish to use that again? Or would Western Union be easier?”