business? Jeremy hasn’t told me, what business did he start with your money?”
A big man like Moe looked comical squirming in his seat. When he glanced out the window, Agatha slid her hand in her clutch and grasped the little, metal device. Moe looked back to her before she could hide it.
“Something to do with pharmaceuticals, I don’t recall the details exactly. Jeremy could tell you more.”
“What a pity. I would have enjoyed seeing Jeremy’s business plan, although he’s never struck me as ambitious.” Agatha fell quiet. Moe’s posture was casual enough, but the muscles in his jaw worked. Her research on loan sharks and con artists had paid off.
With the bug in her hand, she rotated toward him while dropping it on the floor. She shifted her feet, kicking the bug under the passenger’s seat. A bug was good, but video was better, and while the miniscule webcam in her brooch would capture their conversation and his image, she wanted more. “Did you threaten to kill Jeremy?”
Moe flinched. “Of course not.”
“Why do you think Jeremy would make such an accusation?”
“I’m sure you know Jeremy better than I do.” Several seconds lapsed. “In my dealings with him, I began to wonder… I hate to say this, but I think he may use drugs. Obviously had I realized his problem up front, I never would have done business with him.”
Agatha pursed her lips to keep from laughing. One of her hands fluttered to her chest, feigning shock. “Do you think the drugs made him say such things?”
“I would assume he suffers from paranoia.” Moe’s brown, puppy-dog eyes seemed guilt free.
“I suppose that’s possible.” Agatha dropped her gaze to her lap, hoping to appear distraught. “I don’t know what to do, with his father gone and all.”
****
Ben slid a shingle in place, positioned a nail, and hammered it flat in two strokes. His blackened thumb warned of the perils of moving too fast, yet he rushed his motions. With less than a week left, he worried he wouldn’t finish the projects he’d started.
His stomach ached when he thought of leaving. Helen and Theo had woven their way through the cracks of his damaged soul. He wanted to stay longer, but none of the other attorneys in his firm had agreed take over his caseload for an additional week. Given the way the court system worked, delaying his cases wasn’t an option.
Ben pushed the thought from his mind and focused on the task at hand. He didn’t want to leave Helen with an unfinished roof and an unfinished kitchen.
The sound of squealing children caught his attention. From his vantage point, Ben saw into the backyards of Helen’s neighbors. In one an older man, wearing a Seahawks baseball cap backwards, worked to light a fire in his barbecue. A couple of adults sat on chairs talking while three kids chased each other in a game of tag.
In Ben’s world, comprised of high-rises, courtrooms, and expensive restaurants, he rarely encountered children. Sure, coworkers had them, and on the occasional weekend, he’d encounter one or two kids at the office, but for the most part their care was relegated to nannies or the occasional stay-at-home spouse.
The focus of Ben’s life had become making the rich richer. Ben forced his gaze away, snatched several shingles, and scooted across the roof, scratching his arm in the process. He placed the tile, positioned the nail, and swung the hammer driving the nail in one swing.
“What can I do to help?”
Ben jumped at hearing Helen’s voice. She was poised on the peak of the roof wearing work gloves and a gray sweatshirt. Her dark, shiny hair was swept into a messy ponytail. Ben’s heart lurched. Although kind and generous, Helen wore her independence like a badge. “What are you doing?” Ben asked.
“I’m helping.”
“You should be relaxing, you’re not obligated to help.”
“I didn’t ask if I was obligated. I live here.” She scuttled up next to him.
“Did you take your shots
A big man like Moe looked comical squirming in his seat. When he glanced out the window, Agatha slid her hand in her clutch and grasped the little, metal device. Moe looked back to her before she could hide it.
“Something to do with pharmaceuticals, I don’t recall the details exactly. Jeremy could tell you more.”
“What a pity. I would have enjoyed seeing Jeremy’s business plan, although he’s never struck me as ambitious.” Agatha fell quiet. Moe’s posture was casual enough, but the muscles in his jaw worked. Her research on loan sharks and con artists had paid off.
With the bug in her hand, she rotated toward him while dropping it on the floor. She shifted her feet, kicking the bug under the passenger’s seat. A bug was good, but video was better, and while the miniscule webcam in her brooch would capture their conversation and his image, she wanted more. “Did you threaten to kill Jeremy?”
Moe flinched. “Of course not.”
“Why do you think Jeremy would make such an accusation?”
“I’m sure you know Jeremy better than I do.” Several seconds lapsed. “In my dealings with him, I began to wonder… I hate to say this, but I think he may use drugs. Obviously had I realized his problem up front, I never would have done business with him.”
Agatha pursed her lips to keep from laughing. One of her hands fluttered to her chest, feigning shock. “Do you think the drugs made him say such things?”
“I would assume he suffers from paranoia.” Moe’s brown, puppy-dog eyes seemed guilt free.
“I suppose that’s possible.” Agatha dropped her gaze to her lap, hoping to appear distraught. “I don’t know what to do, with his father gone and all.”
****
Ben slid a shingle in place, positioned a nail, and hammered it flat in two strokes. His blackened thumb warned of the perils of moving too fast, yet he rushed his motions. With less than a week left, he worried he wouldn’t finish the projects he’d started.
His stomach ached when he thought of leaving. Helen and Theo had woven their way through the cracks of his damaged soul. He wanted to stay longer, but none of the other attorneys in his firm had agreed take over his caseload for an additional week. Given the way the court system worked, delaying his cases wasn’t an option.
Ben pushed the thought from his mind and focused on the task at hand. He didn’t want to leave Helen with an unfinished roof and an unfinished kitchen.
The sound of squealing children caught his attention. From his vantage point, Ben saw into the backyards of Helen’s neighbors. In one an older man, wearing a Seahawks baseball cap backwards, worked to light a fire in his barbecue. A couple of adults sat on chairs talking while three kids chased each other in a game of tag.
In Ben’s world, comprised of high-rises, courtrooms, and expensive restaurants, he rarely encountered children. Sure, coworkers had them, and on the occasional weekend, he’d encounter one or two kids at the office, but for the most part their care was relegated to nannies or the occasional stay-at-home spouse.
The focus of Ben’s life had become making the rich richer. Ben forced his gaze away, snatched several shingles, and scooted across the roof, scratching his arm in the process. He placed the tile, positioned the nail, and swung the hammer driving the nail in one swing.
“What can I do to help?”
Ben jumped at hearing Helen’s voice. She was poised on the peak of the roof wearing work gloves and a gray sweatshirt. Her dark, shiny hair was swept into a messy ponytail. Ben’s heart lurched. Although kind and generous, Helen wore her independence like a badge. “What are you doing?” Ben asked.
“I’m helping.”
“You should be relaxing, you’re not obligated to help.”
“I didn’t ask if I was obligated. I live here.” She scuttled up next to him.
“Did you take your shots
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