Four Minute Phone Call Exposed My Husband and My Best Friend
“He will notice if it is gone,” I said.
“Then do not take it yet,” James said.
“I will begin tracking the wire transfers from your joint account this afternoon,” James said.
“We have forty-one thousand dollars less than we did in August,” I said.
“I will find where every dollar landed,” James said.
“Who signed the authorization for the nursery furniture delivery?” I asked.
“I am looking into that next,” James said.
He stood up, leaving three dollar bills on the table for the coffee.
At six o’clock that evening, the rain began to hit the kitchen windows of our Queen Anne craftsman home.
Richard was on his hands and knees in his home office, rummaging through the bottom drawer of his cherry wood desk.
“Laura, have you seen the blue folder that was in here?” Richard asked, his voice tight.
He checked his silver watch, a habit he kept when he was anxious.
“The one with the tax documents?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“No, the small white envelope with the deposit slips,” Richard said, his fingers shuffling through yellow legal pads.
