The Finishing School by Michele Martinez

back.
    “Okay,” Whitney said sulkily to whoever was standing behind Carmen. “Here she is. Happy now?”
    The split second it took Carmen to whip her head around and see who was behind her was the most nightmarish of all. Because she instinctively knew who she’d see standing in the doorway, and the knowledge was terrible. With Whitney’s words a lot of small events from the previous days snapped into a pattern for Carmen, with the precision of a mathematical sequence. It all made sense. Now she understood perfectly why she’d been lured to Whitney’s apartment. She’d walked right into a trap. A trap she probably wouldn’t get out of alive.
     

15
     
    AFTER THE DEA AGENT found the dope in Carmen Reyes’s locker, Patricia Andover excused herself politely, walked back to her office, and, nerves jangling, dialed James at home. It crossed her mind to worry about the trail of telephone records. Two calls this morning so far. But the next few days leading up to the gala were critical and dicey, and she had to make sure the ODs didn’t disturb their carefully laid plans. Neither of them could put a foot wrong if they wanted to pull this off. The calls were necessary and could be explained if it came down to it. They were simply evidence of the headmistress’s offering comfort to a bereaved family.
    Charlotte must’ve been at least semiconscious—how unusual!—because when James answered, he pretended Patricia was someone from his campaign. He made her wait for what felt like ages while he went to his library, locked the door, and called back from his cell phone. Patricia sat there with palms sweating and heart pounding. Why put her through this? Screw Charlotte anyway, that drug-addled whore. Patricia could walk around that apartment buck naked, and Charlotte wouldn’t notice. Goddamn junkie, just like her daughter. Patricia hated them both with a passion. Correction—
had
hated them, before Whitney got what she so richly deserved.
    The phone on her desk finally rang. She snatched it up.
    “Hello?” she said breathlessly.
    “How’d it go?”
    “Fine. It was her, the one you told me about. Melanie Vargas. She was with some DEA agent.”
    “Chinese guy, right?”
    “Yes. I’m their best friend now.”
    He chuckled. “Good. That’s the way to handle it, I’m telling you. Look at Martha Stewart. She didn’t go to jail for anything she
did
. Just for lying to them. They hate it when you don’t cooperate. Offends their little egos.”
    “Well, I cooperated, all right. I even had Ted Siebert go through this song and dance about a search warrant so I could pretend to overrule him. You know, good cop, bad cop.”
    “Oh, yeah. I was going to ask you about that, because that prosecutor called me for permission—”
    “I know! I was sitting right there. Ted took me way too seriously. He wouldn’t let it drop, so she had to mollify him. I swear, it was almost like he
wanted
them to think we had something to hide.”
    They were both silent for a moment.
    “Do you think he did it on purpose?” James asked.
    “What, over that old thing?” But Patricia considered the possibility.
    “You know he hates me.”
    “Honestly, with what I have on him, I don’t think he’d dare. He has a position to protect. Not just his family either, but you know he’s very big in the Bar Association now.”
    “What a thought.” James laughed sharply, then stopped short, his tone turning ominous. “I’m glad it went well, but still…We need to talk. There’s a problem, you know, Patricia.”
    “Yes, I know, dearest,” she said. “You’re angry about Whitney. I want you to understand, I
tried
to keep a lid on things. It wasn’t my fault—”
    “Whitney’s the least of our problems. This is serious. It’s about the second set of books.”
    “The…books?” Patricia’s heart began to beat erratically.
    “You told somebody, didn’t you?”
    “About our plan? Of…of course not, darling.”
    “You’re