She got back a childish, almost illegible scrawl. Max’s heart pumped harder when she finally made it out. “Foster City.”
Less than a handful of exits from the airport. Could the woman have enough strength to strangle someone? Maybe. If she was terrified someone was stealing her husband. Or pissed as hell. The whole thing about a woman scorned, ya know.
“Yeah,” Carla said as she shoved the pink pen in her purse.
Max wondered if she knew how apropos that “yeah” might really be. “We’ll be sure to call you when your check’s late again.” And it would be, Max was sure.
Carla flapped a hand. “It’s only a day late.”
“Try a month.” Remy appeared in the doorway, his voice harsh with just the right answer. He’d obviously taken stock of the conversation while standing outside the door.
Carla squeaked like a mouse at the sound of his voice, her lips a round O, her brown eyes wide as she turned to stare at him. A moment later, they took on a decidedly stormy look. “You must be Remy Hackett.”
Max took a seat for the confrontation.
Remy’s upper lip twitched. “Mrs. Drake, I presume.” He sounded like a Victorian gentleman. “I recognize your voice from your phone calls.” His tone suggested how unpleasant they’d been. “I see you tried to get around me by going to Max first. I told you we’d have to cancel your insurance if you were late again. Did you call in the cancellation yesterday, Max?”
He gave Max a look over Carla’s shoulder. Not just any look, a very meaningful one that said play along, follow his lead, don’t buck the system. It wasn’t exactly a lie, not the way Remy had phrased it.
Nudge him, Max. Test him. See what he does.
Cameron had plucked her thoughts out of the air. It was exactly what she intended to do. “Actually, Remy, I didn’t get a chance to call the insurance company. They’re back east, and it was after five their time when you told me to call.”
He came forward, pushing Carla aside to get to Max. “Why didn’t you do it this morning?”
He looked like a seething, growling Mr. Hyde taking over Dr. Jekyll. At any moment, she expected him to foam. She almost smiled. People gave away so much more when they were out of control.
“If you recall, we were at Wendy’s funeral.”
Remy’s teeth ground. “It’s an insurance company policy. Thirty-day-grace period starts at the beginning of the month, payment no later than August 31st.” He glanced down at his watch. “It’s now September 10th.”
Carla didn’t say a word, seemingly quite content for Max to fight her battle. She was sure it was the woman’s usual style. “Actually, that’s not quite the way Wendy’s notes read.” She was careful not to use the word lie. There was pushing, and then there was lighting a match next to a natural gas leak.
“Wendy’s notes?”
Max nodded, a curve to her lips. “She documented everything. Wendy was quite the little writer.”
Wendy had obviously learned the hard way to cover her butt. Her notes recorded the fact that Remy handled the COBRA all wrong, that some of his practices might even be illegal. Besides, he couldn’t cancel the COBRA himself. She’d told him, but he hadn’t believed her or cared enough to call the insurance carrier himself. Remy’s law was the only law.
Two steps from his elbow, Carla Drake beamed like a teenager pitting her parents against each other.
Remy did not have a naturally florid complexion, but he sure as hell looked apoplectic now. Max was afraid he’d pop a blood vessel. His lips worked. No sound came out.
She offered him a small out. “The COBRA conversation probably slipped your mind.”
Don’t back down, Maxi. Keep on him. Cameron was so very good at egging her on.
But if she pushed too hard, Remy could always cancel her contract, and solving Wendy’s murder required proximity to the major players. Besides, she’d done enough. Remy now realized Wendy had diligently noted the things he told her to do. If there was another lie, Max would catch him in it.
And he knew it.
She held out her hand. “You want me to take her check, Remy?”
Finally, without turning around, he held out his hand, his acquiescence shocking Max. An explosion had seemed far more likely. Inevitable. “Give me the check, Mrs. Drake.”
Laying it on his palm, Carla smiled slyly at Max. As if they were conspirators. Not in this life, lady.
“If you’re one second late next month, your policy is history.” Remy spoke to the woman behind him, but his eyes never left Max’s face. He’d recovered his composure and was attempting intimidation. Fat chance.
“Take care of it today.” He threw the check at her. Max let it fall to the carpet.
Someone should have murdered him.
The check landed face up. Finally, once the paper had settled, Max bent to get it. “Mrs. Drake, this check is dated August 31.” Prior to Wendy’s death. When Nicholas Drake was in Boise with his kids.