The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(87)

I went into my usual explanation of the test: the popular locations that people choose, my fees, the expenses, etc. Mrs. Miller listened intently, very interested in the details.

"So there is no actual intercourse, then?"

"No," I confirmed. "It's an intention-based business only."

"And do you make exceptions to that rule?" she asked, almost eagerly.

The question caught me off guard. Especially coming from her. No woman had ever actually wanted me to go through with sleeping with her husband. They were all perfectly satisfied with stopping at "intention."

I cleared my throat. "No," I said, not really sure what else I could say to that.

"Oh, all right," she replied. "I just thought I'd ask. I would really like to know for sure if my husband would cheat on me."

I forced a smile. "I understand, Mrs. Miller. But it's extremely safe to assume that with the intimate level of my inspection there leaves very little room for doubt."

She nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course. Well, I'd like to take care of this right away. I'll pay you extra if you'll conduct the test tomorrow night."

And suddenly I thought of Jamie for the first time since leaving Raymond Jacobs's office. Tomorrow night was our second date. And I couldn't think of any better reason to turn this offer down. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Miller. But I have prior engagements tomorrow."

"Monday night, then?" she asked hastily. This woman certainly was anxious to get this over with. "Daniel has drinks scheduled at the W that night; it's perfect timing."

I hesitated. I normally like to have at least a week between the initial meeting and the assignment. "Well..." I began.

"I'll triple your fee," she offered.

I looked at her strangely. What was up with this woman? She was clearly one sandwich short of a picnic basket, and in serious need of a firm dose of present-day reality. But still I felt a strong desire to take her offer. I probably could use the extra money. After my previous meeting I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be in business.

I agreed.

"Excellent," she said. "He'll be having drinks with business associates, but he almost always stays afterward for another drink. It's his way of unwinding and processing all the details of his meeting before coming home."

I jotted the information down in my notebook. "Okay. I'll just need to borrow a picture of Mr. Miller."

"Of course," she replied, standing and walking over to a small end table next to the couch. She delicately opened the drawer and removed a wallet-sized photograph from inside. As I watched her I couldn't help but notice that it was the only thing in the drawer. It was completely empty; not one other item was inside. I stared at the open drawer curiously until she closed it and handed me the picture.

The man in the photograph looked vaguely familiar, although I was fairly certain I had never met him.

"Is something wrong?"

I shook my head. "No, no. Your husband just looks like someone I know."

She smiled, as if she'd heard that many times. "Ah."

"And what does Mr. Miller do for a living?"

Mrs. Miller seemed to fidget slightly in her seat, as if the question made her uncomfortable. I found it terribly out of character for her impenetrable facade.

"Well, actually," she began, tugging gently at her earlobe, which also seemed out of character. As if this of all questions had been the one that made her nervous. "My husband is between jobs right now."

I nodded and made a note in my book.

"He was just laid off from his previous company and he's searching for new work. I believe that's what his Monday night meeting is about."

"Understood," I said as I continued writing.

"But don't bring that up!" she practically shouted.

Her unexpected outburst caused my hand to jerk upright, leaving an unsightly black line across the open page of my notebook. "Okay," I answered warily. "That's fine."

This woman was a freak. So seemingly concerned about hurting her husband's jobless feelings that she had decided to hire a fidelity inspector? Not exactly the best timing on her part, was it?

I went over all the final details with Mrs. Miller, and then finally arrived at the part about the expenses retainer that I require for all of my assignments.

She nodded pleasantly as she stood up and walked over to a dark wooden secretary in the corner of the room. From another empty drawer she pulled out a large white envelope from which she produced a thick stack of one-hundred-dollar bills. "I assume cash is fine?" she asked, counting out the correct number of bills.

I felt my eyes scrunch up in stunned bewilderment as I watched her from across the room.

She looked over to me. "Is it?"

I nodded, unable to speak. This woman had just offered to pay me triple my fee, and on top of that she was paying me in cash! Cash that came out of an otherwise empty drawer in the middle of an otherwise empty house.

I only offered two payment options for my services: cash or a check made out to "cash." Most clients chose the safer, cleaner, less drug dealer–like method of payment. But judging by the amount of money that was still left in the envelope after she removed my portion, this woman had clearly been prepared to pay me more than three times what I normally charge. Who keeps that much cash lying around?