“I understand there was an incident at Synco today.” The cold, harsh voice of Carol Conroy added to the day’s wonderful turn of events.
“Yes, there was.”
“Care to comment on it?”
She wouldn’t take no for an answer. “We’ve been a little on edge. With the suicide and your fear of being killed, I think my friend was taking some precautions.”
“Mr. Moore. You and your friend acted like idiots today.”
“Maybe. But I have a transcript of your husband’s phone conversation from yesterday. And that is what you’re paying me for.” The lady was paying me big bucks to be an idiot. Her idiot. I swallowed whatever pride I had.
“Because of your actions today, there are a number of people in that company who are asking questions. I wanted to run this inquiry or,” she paused, apparently not sure what to call it, “this, this mini-investigation, quietly. Very simply, I asked you to record conversations from office one. Now everyone is talking about a bomb threat. It certainly adds to the confusion, doesn’t it?” The lady was obviously irritated.
I drank my second Yeungling of the afternoon and listened to James rattling around in his bedroom. He should be the one dealing with this. If he hadn’t freaked out. “Mrs. Conroy, I have a transcript of the conversation. It’s what you asked for.”
“An actual recording of the conversation would be infinitely preferable. I believe that’s what I asked for.”
I thought back to our original conversations. “And I think I promised you notes.”
“So I’m to take your word for what was said?”
I’d spent three hours last night with the word processor trying to get it all down. And I had no idea how to erase the conversations with Sarah. So a transcript was going to have to suffice. I couldn’t possibly give her the video card without giving everything away.
“We had a little trouble with the recording device. I mean, you only gave us a day to install the unit and-”
“Audio? Or audio and video?”
“Mrs. Conroy, I have the transcript if you’d like to see it. Printed out. It’s the best I can do under these conditions.” The conditions being that I didn’t want to play the original recording for her. Plain and simple.
She was silent, but I could hear her breathing. Sarah had been right. The lady was a bitch. “I’ll meet you.”
I thought about the money again. It’s all I could think about. I wasn’t born with an aggressive personality, but I was salivating thinking about the payoff at the end of this assignment. “Mrs. Conroy, I realize there may be more to do, but if I could just get an advance on what we’ve done so far-”
“Mr. Moore. You’ve already done considerable damage on what you’ve tried to accomplish so far. The phony bomb scare, no actual recording of Sandler’s voice, just your transcript. I’m really unhappy with how things are going. Are you clear on that?”
“Mrs. Conroy,” James was banging on something in his room, making it hard to hear on my cheap cell phone, “I will do everything possible to quiet things down and get you the information you want.”
“And when your job is finished, then I’ll pay you. Not until then. Do you understand? I don’t want any misunderstanding.”
Damn. And there were expenses I needed to cover. There was a moment when I thought she was going to refuse to pay. Now she sounded like I’d get my money, but who knew when? “And where would you like to meet?” Not the Red Derby again.
“I know where you live. I’ll be there tonight at seven p.m.”
“Fine.” She knew where I lived. That scared me.
“And, Mr. Moore, there isn’t any chance that Sarah Crumbly will be at your apartment is there?”
“Sarah?” Why would Sarah come to our dump? We couldn’t afford her. I quickly remembered why. “No. Nope. No chance. No way. We’re not seeing each other. I mean tonight. So, there’s no chance tonight. No chance at all. Nope.” I could have gone on, but it was time to shut up.
“And your friend?”
“James will be here.” Damn straight James would be here. I didn’t want to deal with this lady alone.
“Ah, good. But I was referring to Emily.”
I felt a chill go down my spine. I had no idea what she knew. How she knew. But I had the presence of mind to keep on going as if her question was perfectly normal. “No. Just James and me. A quiet night at home.”
Again, she was silent.
“Mrs. Conroy?”
“I would think that after the ruckus you caused this afternoon, a quiet night would be just what you need.” She hung up the phone.