I just kept listening.

“Did Sarah tell you about Tony Quatman?”

I shook my head. The name didn’t ring a bell.

“He is the designer of the system. This new computer system that’s supposed to prohibit any hackers from breaking in.”

“Okay.”

“A week after Synco signed a contract with the government, Tony resigned. Didn’t give a reason. He just wrote a note and walked out.” She made a flourish with her right hand, brandishing the yellow pencil as if she was writing the note herself.

“And why is that a problem?”

“Tony was to get a very nice bonus when the project was completed.”

I understood. I was to get a very nice bonus when I’d finished playing Sarah’s boyfriend. And thinking about that made me feel kind of sleazy, sitting here talking to Sandler Conroy’s wife while Conroy was probably boinking his prostitute girlfriend. My pretend girlfriend. This whole thing was so sordid.

“He walked out. No bonus. Now does that make any sense to you? You’re a businessman, Mr. Moore. Would you walk out on a bonus?”

“Mrs. Conroy-”

“No one has seen or heard from him since.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“His secretary, Julia Bayford, she didn’t show up the next day, and we’ve heard nothing from her or her husband.”

“People move. People change plans.”

“I want you to look into it.”

“What?”

“You’re a security guy.” She let that hang, as if I should jump at the chance to use my vast experience in selling security systems to help solve a possible murder and disappearance.

“As I said, I sell security systems. That’s it.”

“Listen to me. You’re going to have full access to the building. You’re brand new to the company and you can look places that no one else has looked. If you stumble onto something you shouldn’t see, you just tell them that you were doing security work.”

I nearly swallowed the entire second beer.

“Mr. Moore, I believe Ralph was murdered. I believe that someone either forced Tony Quatman out, or they killed him. I believe Julia Bayford-”

“I can’t do this. I wouldn’t have a clue what to look for. I have no idea why these people are disappearing, and to be honest, Mrs. Conroy, I don’t care. I just want to do my job, get paid, and leave. Look, I really need this job. I can’t take a chance of screwing this up.”

She shook her head, pulling her hair back from her face. In the dark bar I saw the dark side of the pretty lady. Her lipstick was a little more red than I’d first noticed. Her eyes a little dark with the makeup. Maybe a little too much blush on her cheekbones. “Mr. Moore, if I’m right, and Ralph Walters was murdered, if Tony Quatman was murdered, I believe someone else is going to be killed as well. Believe me when I say I’d like to prevent that at all costs.”

“Who would-” The bartender stood by the table. He took us both by surprise, and I wondered what he thought if he’d heard the conversation.

“Another beer?” I shook my head no. Three in mid-afternoon was pushing it a little bit. I had to drive back to Carol City.

“What do you propose?”

“I propose that you do security work for me. I’ll give you ideas of what to look for and you basically become my spy.”

“Mrs. Conroy, I could lose my job.”

“You work for me. My father owns the company. My husband is the president.” These rich bitches.

“I work for you?”

“And I pay you on top of your salary, your bonus-” If she only knew.

“And how much am I being paid, Mrs. Conroy?”

“Ten thousand dollars, Mr. Moore.”

My mouth must have dropped wide open.

“And, another five thousand if you find any solid information.”

This was crazy. I wanted to call Em and James and tell them the news. It was official. I was going to be rich.

“So, do we have a deal?”

“You’re going to tell me what to look for?”

“I am.”

“You’re going to give me an idea of where to look?”

“I am.”

“Mrs. Conroy, are you sure I’m the right person for this job?”

“You’re the logical person for this job.”

“Because?”

“You’re in the right place at the right time.”

Working a deal with Sandler Conroy’s mistress; working a deal with Sandler Conroy’s wife. I needed the money. There’s no other logical explanation why I would have put myself in such a screwed-up position. It was greed, pure and simple. There is no other answer.

“Then we’ve got a deal.” I reached across the booth to shake her hand, but she’d laid the pencil on the table and put both hands in her lap. The lady was very cold. Sarah’s comment about “bitch” came to mind.

She slid from the booth, stood up, and dropped a twenty on the vinyl top. “I want you to start immediately. As I said, it’s a matter of life and death.” She walked to the doorway, never even looking to see if I was keeping pace. “I’m very worried about my safety. And, I’m worried about my father’s company.”

I grabbed the pencil and shoved it in my pocket, walking quickly to catch up. “You have a right to that. Are you close to your father?” It was none of my business, but I thought I’d ask.

Carol Conroy paused, studying my question. Finally she turned around. “Not especially. But that’s not the issue is it?”

“So you’re close to your father’s company.”

The lady smirked. “Mr. Moore, I’m hiring you to do a job. I’m not interested in your philosophy.”

When we walked outside, she squinted in the late afternoon sun.

“Mrs. Conroy, let me walk you to your car.” I followed her eyes, up the street from where I’d parked.

“What is he doing?” Carol Conroy shouted, pointing up the street, and I looked. An Asian man with a ball cap pulled low knelt by a Lexus half a block from us.

“I don’t know. It appears he’s-”

“That’s my car.” Her sharp tone was almost accusing. “Stop him.” She spun around, and her eyes burned into mine.

I took off running, assuming I’d figure out what to do when I reached the man. My first assignment and I’d just started the job seconds ago.

He saw me or heard me and leaped to his feet as a gray Honda Civic in the next block burned rubber, beating me to the man and stopping right in front of the Lexus. The short Asian guy stepped into the street, yanked the passenger door open, and jumped into the Honda as the driver pulled back into the street, the door swinging wildly. For a moment I thought he might fall out, but he managed to grab the handle and pull the door shut. I stopped by her car, breathing hard, watching the other car disappear. Half a block and my chest and lungs were on fire. I was beat. What kind of condition was I in? Too many beers, pizzas, burgers, and no exercise. I had to do something about this. Especially if I was going to be in this type of business. I already knew Mrs. C. was going to be pissed.

She was walking in measured strides, shaking her head. When she got to the Lexus she gave me an annoyed

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