The clicking of high heels—Manolo Blahnik, naturally, because Prada was so last season—approached from behind. Mrs. Beaumont pranced in, tall, blonde and elegant, with big brown eyes like Tommy, draped in a cream cashmere dress that hugged her curves. My jeans and t-shirt just couldn't compete.
"Tommy dear, no slamming toys into the furniture. Why don't you go in your room and play?"
"But Sam is here. I want to play with Sam."
"Actually," I said, "I'm looking for Mr. Dollinger. Have either of you seen him?"
According to her husband's thoughts, she was a dead fish in bed and therefore the cause of his perversions. Yeah, right.
She looked relieved that my presence would no longer be an argument point for the boy. "Yes, he's on his cell phone by the pool. At least he was a moment ago."
I thanked her, gave Tommy a quick hug, and excused myself to the backyard. Gar trailed behind me.
***
This level of wealth didn't impress me the way it might some. We lived well at Rent-A-Kid, with the best of everything—I'd endured so many formal dinners, etiquette training, and socialization classes. At least we enjoyed everything money could buy. After all, we had to impress and fit in with some of the wealthiest people in the world.
Still, their custom pool looked more fitting for a resort than a backyard, with slides in different sizes and shapes, and rock formations and plant life strategically placed to give the whole space a tropical feel. A few fruity drinks with umbrellas, and you'd never know you were in Utah.
Under a transplanted palm tree, my client engaged in an urgent conversation with someone in hushed tones. His pressed pinstripe suit hardly fit the pool setting.
Hmmm... wonder what has money bags so riled?
When he saw me, he ended the conversation and slipped his iPhone into his pocket.
"What is it, Sam?" 'I really hope she's not reading my mind right now... how can I get her to stop?... lalalala... I hope this plan works and I get rid of this ass... does my wife know about Lisa?... it only happened once... no need to tell her... am I getting fat?... maybe I should hit the gym harder when this is all over... Sam is hot... I wonder... such long silky brown hair... clear skin... bright blue eyes... no... she's just a kid... shit... is she listening to me?'
"He has kiddie porn on his computer." I handed him a slip of paper. "Here's a number for his mystery meeting tonight at 7 p.m. You should have everything you need to put him away for good and take over his business."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. His smiles never did. "This is great news. Thanks, I'll call and let them know you did well."
I turned to walk away.
His thoughts stopped me. 'How best to play this... what should I do...? could use this information to my advantage.'
Did I really want to get involved? I'd completed my job. Time to return to Rent-A-Kid. Just walk away. The aftereffects of my work were irrelevant. Not my problem.
I couldn't move. My traitorous body refused to follow my mental commands to keep walking. My heart beat so rapidly I thought it would leap right out of my chest.
I turned to face him, questioning my own sanity even as I did. "You are going to stop him from hurting that girl, aren't you?"
"Yes, of course, I'm as outraged as you. Honestly, I had no idea he had this kind of secret. I assumed we'd catch him at something more benign, like money laundering or tax evasion." 'Disgusting bastard... no idea he was so foul... still... if I get video and pictures... catch him red-handed... I can blackmail him forever... better than just getting him arrested... right?... more money and control for me... could hire someone....'
"No!" My outburst surprised even me. "You can't let him hurt that girl and get away to do it again to someone else. You have to stop him."
"Look, kid, you stay out of my head. I didn't pay you to spy on my thoughts, you hear me?"
The threat of danger bit at me, warning me. Years of unquestioning obedience transformed into a new, entirely unexpected rebellion.
I recalled Beaumont's thoughts. His plans. His past deeds. "I really don't care about your money. I do care about that little girl and all the other little girls he might hurt. So you are going to make sure he is arrested and found guilty, or your wife will get a mysterious note exposing your secret with Lisa."
I reflected on my perfect track record, my future at Sarah Lawrence College, the art contest, the consequences to those who had broken the rules. Would I be fined? Forced to clean the bathrooms with a toothbrush? I weighed all this in my mind, knowing the answer instantly. I knew too much, had seen and heard too much.
No matter. I no longer cared what happened to me.
His face turned bright red, hands balled into fists, jaw grinding.
Might as well add some fuel to the growing fire. "And you should definitely consider hitting the gym. You're getting love handles, and your wife isn't finding them too sexy."