Score one for the frigging genius.
He checked the phone’s contacts—the list included everyone he’d ever met in this town plus a few he hadn’t, all neatly labeled as to who they were. Wickedly, he hit the one addressed to Ariel and typedmerci.
She instantly texted back a link. She knew he was up. Of course she did. Roark hit the link. It opened a file of bank statements. Ariel had a genius for money—and hacking bank accounts. She’d been busy while he was sleeping. He studied his da’s name and address on the statements and the sizeable sums of money flowing through the account.Merde.
Game on again.
Five
After interviewing the potential client,Evie set down her phone on the kitchen island and wrinkled her nose at her scribbled notes. “I don’t think we’ll make much money off this one.”
Professorial Reuben leaned against the back door, munching a banana. Since he’d been working with Larraine Ward, the mayoral candidate, the fashionista had talked him into wearing more cosmopolitan slim jeans with a blazer and a collared shirt instead of his usual rags. The new clothes went with his man bun, but not so much with his scarred African features, although he’d replaced the bone in the bun with a stylus. PhD or not, underneath that polite veneer, Dr. Rube was still one tough gay dude. “Will the job look good as a reference?”
Evie crinkled her nose. “Guess that depends on what grandma was up to. According to Stacey Gump, after her granny died, she found multiple computer devices around the senior living apartment. They were set up under strange names and contained receipts and bills not addressed to Marlene Gump, her grandmother. Out of curiosity, she called any phone numbers she could find and got voice mail with her grandmother’s voice. Granny died in Savannah. The other addresses were scattered around Georgia and the Carolinas. The granddaughter claims her grandmother had nothing more than a government pension and an annuity to live on and couldn’t possibly afford different homes.”
“Can the granddaughter afford to pay you?” Loretta asked pragmatically from her seat in the banquette, where she poked at a Game Boy.
“There’s your father speaking.” Evie spun around on the counter stool. Loretta’s father had been an investor who made millions in his brief lifetime. The kid’s finances were Jax’s bailiwick. “Stacey Gump is heartbroken. Her grandmother practically raised her. Shouldn’t we help those who are hurt?”
“What about the client’s parents? They got money?” Reuben asked cynically.
“You want me to be crude and ask if granny left them any money?” Evie slid off the stool. “I should at least look at the apartment. Maybe grandma left a ghost behind. Can you take me into Savannah, or do I have to beg a ride elsewhere?”
“You just wanta snoop.” Reuben threw the banana peel into the trash. “Shouldn’t we be keeping an eye on Ariel and Roark?”
“They’re adults. Do you really want to get involved in whatever Roark is up to right now? He didn’t let us know where he was for a reason.” Evie very much wanted to know what that reason was, but the information Reuben had dug from news files had been more scary than useful.
Before the storage building explosion in Roark’s old hood, neighbors had reported gunfire and people running. No suspects apprehended. Search for bodies ongoing. That had been a week ago. She was just happy Roark had escaped.
“Not if he’s blowing up things again. I can’t let Larraine be associated with nothin’ illegal, so a legit job is good. I can’t believe the mayor race is actuallyclose.” Professor Reuben, the human garbage disposal, opened the refrigerator in search of more food. He didn’t let disgust with the human race prevent him from eating—and never gaining a pound on his lean, muscled frame.
He emerged with a leftover pizza slice. “Who’d want a senile old coot to run the town?”
“Maybe a bunch of other senile old men who don’t want a Black, transgender, fashion designer for mayor. People are weird like that.” Larraine Ward had entered the town’s special mayoral election with an agenda of change—not an easy platform to promote.
Evie had known Larraine’s opponent since childhood. Hank Williams had to be pushing eighty and the very picture of rural conservatism. Worse, he owned the hardware store and everyone knew him. Larraine had her job cut out for her.
“People ought to vote for brains and big bubbles,” Loretta pronounced. In the kid’s lexicon, that meant generous souls—which Larraine Ward had, if anyone cared to notice. “If you’re going to Savannah, can I go with you? School is starting in a few weeks, and my birthday is coming up.”
Evie knew that. She also knew Loretta’s parents had showered her with junk she didn’t want on her birthdays, then bought her a school uniform and sent her to boarding school. She wanted to do better but wasn’t entirely certain how. “We need to do a special girls’ trip. It wouldn’t look good to introduce ourselves to a client with a kid tagging along. It’s hard enough explaining ghosts.”
Loretta pouted but returned to her game.
Ignoring her comments about the mayoral race, Reuben shrugged and appropriated a can of soft drink. “I got time. We can play with ghosts. We can leave the chipmunk with Jax.”
Evie snorted and hopped down from the counter stool. “Not likely, unless he can fit her in a briefcase. Gracie will come over. Give me a minute to change into something businesslike.”
“You don’t own anything businesslike,” he shouted after her.
“I’ll be eleven in a few weeks. I’m old enough to stay by myself,” Loretta complained—to deaf ears. Heirs to a fortune required protection, especially when they were kids.
Evie didn’t feel too guilty abandoning Larraine and the election for a few hours. Jax and his team had done their civic duty safeguarding the mayoral ballot by uncovering the town’s rigged voting machines. Beyond that, there wasn’t much she could do to make a small, conservative population wake up and see progress as a good thing. She’d leave that to Larraine’s professional campaigners.
Right now, she needed a real job so she could buy a car. Maybe once people saw she could run her own business, she’d get a little more respect for her abilities. Doubtful, but Evie didn’t like giving up hope.
She came down wearing one of Great-Aunt Val’s shirtdresses from the sixties. It had probably been a miniskirt on tall Val. It came to Evie’s knees, but the gold and orange pinstripes made her happy, and she’d found a wide belt that fastened with cool brass hoops. She’d even pulled her unruly carroty hair into a knot. She’d never had money or incentive to have her ears pierced, so she didn’t wear earrings. Maybe she should think about that.
She texted to be certain Gracie was on her way, then stopped in the kitchen for approval. “Ta-da, businesslike.” She spun around.