“Well, no earlier than eleven, certainly.”
“His bedtime is ten,” I say through my teeth. “He’s nine.”
“Oh.” She taps her chin. “Perhaps you should take out the trash then?”
She has got to be kidding me. I’m tempted to tell this woman where she can shove that trash can, but at that moment, a truck pulls up in front of my house. A man with a big shaggy mustache and potbelly climbs out of the truck, a sour expression on his face. It takes me a second to recognize him as the plumber who came by a few days ago. I called him to fix our downstairs toilet, which was taking about an hour to flush. Enzo kept insisting he could fix it and we didn’t need professional help, but it seemed like every time he tried to fix it, the flush took ten minutes longer. I didn’t even tell him I called the plumber. He thinks the toilet magically fixed itself.
“Hey!” The plumber, whose name completely escapes me at the moment, ambles down the walkway to where I’m standing with Suzette. “I was here a few days ago to do a job, and you wrote me a bum check!”
What?
“I… I did?” I stammer. I don’t know how that’s possible. I keep track of every penny that goes in and out of our checking account. We don’t have a lot of excess cash, but I’m certain we had more than enough to cover the $300 check I wrote for the plumber.
The plumber is not a small man. He’s well over six feet, towering over me, and I have to take a step back as he comes closer. “You sure did, lady!” he growls.
Suzette seems entertained by this interaction. Why can’t she go back to her house? This is so embarrassing.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I thought there was enough in the account to cover it. Can I… Do you take credit cards?”
“I don’t,” he spits at me. “I told you when I fixed your toilet: only cash or check. And now for you, only cash.”
Well, that’s a problem. I don’t have $300 in cash just lying around. I probably have forty dollars in my wallet if I’m lucky. Enzo has already taken off for the day, but he doesn’t carry much money either. “Um,” I say, “if you wait, I can go to an ATM…”
The plumber hikes up his pants and plants himself squarely on the sidewalk in front of my house. “I’m not moving one step until I get paid, lady.”
“You know what,” Suzette pipes up. “I might have some cash in the house. Give me a minute.”
She dashes back into the house, walking admirably well in those four-inch heels. A minute later, she bursts from the front door with a wad of cash. She holds it out to the plumber, who immediately starts counting it.
“It’s all there,” Suzette assures him.
The plumber finishes counting the cash and nods at her. “You got that right, pretty lady.” He tips his grimy baseball cap in her direction. “Thank you muchly.”
He gives me one last dirty look and then climbs back into his truck. I’m pretty sure I am blackballed from that plumbing service. Hopefully, Enzo can get better at fixing the pipes.
Suzette watches the plumber drive away, then turns to me with an expectant look on her face. I know what she wants, and I’m going to have to give it to her.
“Thank you so much, Suzette,” I say. “I… I promise I’ll pay you back every penny.”
“Oh, take your time.” She toys with the diamond bracelet on her wrist, which glints in the sunlight. “Honestly, Jonathan and I have more money than we know what to do with. You can’t even imagine how much we pay in taxes!”
Way to rub it in my face. I don’t want Suzette to think of me as some impoverished charity case, racking up debts all over town. And I especially dislike the idea of owing anything to her. Technically, we never paid for her broken window, but that was different because Nico agreed to do chores. I’ll pay her back today, if I can.
Except… can I? I thought we had more than enough money in the checking account to cover the plumbing bill. But obviously, we don’t. Where did the money go? Enzo and I always discuss large purchases. He wouldn’t have just taken the money out without telling me.
Would he?
THIRTY-FOUR
After the plumber leaves, I log in to the computer to check my bank account.
A few days ago, we had more than a thousand dollars in the checking account. I watch the screen, waiting to confirm that the money is still there. My heart sinks when the balance of the checking account pops up on the screen:
$213
What the hell is going on? We’re missing about a thousand dollars from our checking account. And we are not extremely wealthy like our neighbors. That’s not an amount that we can just shrug off.
I access the transactions in the history. I do see a $1,000 withdrawal from a few days ago. Presumably, that is the culprit. Except who took that out of our account? It certainly wasn’t me. I can’t imagine Enzo would do that without mentioning it to me.
I’m running late for work, but this is far more important. If somebody stole money from our bank account, I need to do something about it ASAP. So I call the bank and end up on hold with them for fifteen minutes while I glance at my watch and text one of my coworkers to cover me at a meeting that I am definitely going to miss.
“Hello, this is Serena, your customer service representative,” a perky female voice pipes up.
“Hi.” I clear my throat. “I need your help regarding some money that is missing from my bank account.”
“Oh dear,” Serena says. I vehemently agree with that sentiment. “Let me see what I can find out for you.”
I have to hand over all my bank information, and then I get to wait as I listen to the sound of keys tapping in the background. And then more keys tapping. And then more waiting. “Sorry the system is so slow today,” Serena says cheerfully. “It’s just one of those days, you know?”
I’m not in the mood to make small talk while I’m trying to figure out why money is missing from my bank account. “Uh-huh.”
“Ah, okay!” she says triumphantly. “The withdrawal was made two days ago by Enzo Accardi, who is also on the account. Is that your husband?”
“Yes, but…” I frown. “My husband didn’t…”
Did he?
“Is he saying he didn’t withdraw the money?” she asks me.
