Page 102 of Reaper and Ruin
I wanted to roll my eyes that she was still holding on to that grudge. “Yes. That one. Can you tell us who booked that job?”
She squinted at us. “Why?”
X slammed his palm down again. “Just give us the intel, woman!”
Both of us stared at him.
His expression grew sheepish. “I did it again, didn’t I?”
“Do you literally need to go stand in the corner and have a time out?” I asked.
“I think I might. I’m overexcited.” He slunk off to the hard plastic chairs beneath the window and sank into one.
I smiled at Francine apologetically, and she just shook her head as she pushed her glasses back up on her nose and peered at the computer.
“He must be really good in bed for you to put up with that level of crazy,” she muttered.
She probably wasn’t wrong. Or maybe I was just as crazy as he was. Because he looked kind of cute just sitting over there in disgrace.
I couldn’t help but smile at him.
He was like a wounded dog who’d just been tossed a juicy bone. He lit up as if my smile of forgiveness was all he’d ever dreamed of.
“It’s a bit more than that,” I said softly. “But if you could have a peep at your records, it would help us out a lot.”
Francine scrolled a little, typed a few words, and peered at the screen again. “So why exactly am I doing this?”
I opened my mouth to lie. But the words that came out were the truth. “A man at that house hurt me. And I think he was working with someone else. I need to know who.”
Francine’s gaze snapped up to meet mine. “He…he hurt you while you were on the job?”
I nodded.
Francine’s hands shook. “Violet, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Why didn’t you report it?”
I reached across the desk and squeezed her fingers. “I know. It’s okay. I’m all right.”
“He was a new client. If I’d known…”
I shook my head. “You couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault.”
She nodded grimly, then peered up at me and said, “You aren’t going to sue me or something, are you?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. There she was. The Francine I knew, always a bit self-centered. “No, I’m not suing. I just want to know who made that booking. If there’s nothing under Paul Jeddersen, try Claire. Or Clara. I remember that being a contact name on the job form and thinking it was his wife, but it was weird because he kept using them interchangeably. Like he had no idea what his own wife’s name was.”
In hindsight, I wished I’d paid more attention to that little slipup.
Francine focused again, clearly reassured now that I wasn’t trying to take her to court. She scrolled on her mouse until she found what she was looking for. “Okay, here it is. Booking was made a week before, and Claire was listed as a contact person for that address. But there’s no other details…”
“Oh,” I said, deflated. “Well, thanks for trying.”
She went on like I hadn’t spoken. “It was an email booking. Let me just find that and see if I can find a phone number I might have missed adding to the system.”
“Thank you.”
“Happy to help.” She smiled up at me. “As long as you don’t sue.”
This time I couldn’t stop the eye roll.
