Page 34 of The Woman with the Wallet

“Ten grand was more money than I’d ever seen at one time,” I told Miko.

“So you agreed to do it.”

Of course I had.

I already knew the apartment from the last party. And thanks to the wife, I had an exact location as well as a code to get into the safe where she kept her finest jewelry.

From there, it wasn’t hard work. I would slip away from work and into a nice dress. I would put a wig on my hair and some heavy eye makeup, so my coworkers didn’t recognize me right away. A little superglue on my fingers to disguise my fingerprints.

Then it was just a little sidestep into the primary bedroom, into one of the walk-in closets, past tons of designer clothing, and toward the back wall where the safe was hidden behind a painting.

I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but the entire vault was filled with shining pieces: rings made of brilliant red rubies or deep green emeralds, diamond earrings of every size and brilliance, bracelets, anklets, necklaces.

I was no expert, but I imagined it had to be a solid million dollars’ worth of jewelry that I shoved into my purse before closing the vault and putting the picture back into place.

My bag was already heavy, but it had some room—enough for me to go ahead and pinch several bottles of her perfume, some silk scarves, and most of her makeup.

I’d half-expected to get caught. But I’d slipped just as easily out of the bedroom as I had in.

I stashed the bag and my wig inside my heavy winter jacket, got back into my work uniform, and went back to work.

No one knew anything had happened.

“The wife had been over the moon with the haul. Enough that she gave me an extra grand and told me she would be sending business my way.”

I did go back to work, just in case anything got wonky with the safe. It would have looked extra suspicious if I quit right after.

It did hit the news.

But no one ever linked the heist to anyone.

The insurance paid out.

The wife hired a bull of an attorney and got the kind of alimony most ex-wives could only dream of.

“And I got business,” I told Miko.

“Lot of ex-wives who got screwed?”

“At the beginning. That was that woman’s circle, so, naturally, that was what came my way. But it slowly became something else after that. Now, it’s a real mixed bag. Angry exes. Bitter old business partners. A little bit of everything.”

“Can I ask the obvious question?”

“How the hell did I get broken into when breaking into things is my livelihood?” I supplied for him.

“Yeah.”

“I guess that’s a mix of things. First, compared to being on the streets, having a door with locks sure felt safe enough.”

“On the streets?” Miko asked. “Like…”

“Homeless,” I supplied. “Yeah. Megs and I were on the streets for years. But it was also a bit of bravado. And a mix of just stupidity. We never had anything worth stealing, so the risk felt really low.”

“Still. Three women, living alone.”

“Yeah, I see that now,” I agreed. “And I’m glad Tyler will be around for a few days. Gives me a chance to get some other systems in place.”

I’d already decided, when sleep had been elusive because I was jumping at every sound in the building, that I was going to devote most of the money from the dog urn to getting our apartment as safe as possible.

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