Chapter 5: Her Own Kitchen

Damiano was in the doorway before Bernadette finished the sentence.

He didn't come in.

He held up his own phone with the red recording dot on the screen and raised one eyebrow.

I nodded.

"Twenty thousand," I said into the speaker. "That's a lot to offer a thief."

"Oh, sweetheart, nobody's calling you that."

"The bank is."

"Banks forget." Her voice went soft. "You're young, and you have a whole life with my son. Why spend it on lawyers?"

"Because I haven't got any money for lawyers."

"Well, there you are."

"My father left me sixty thousand dollars, Bernadette."

"I know he did, dear."

"It was in the account Eamon helps me with."

There was a small pause.

"That's gone, honey," Bernadette said gently. "Eamon needed it for the firm. You'll see it again when the wedding's done."

I shut my eyes.

I had been afraid of that sentence for a day and a half without knowing it.

"Let me think about the statement," I said.

"Don't think long. Those men aren't patient."

She hung up.

Damiano lowered his phone and stopped the recording.

"That's the first thing she's said that I can use," he said.

"She said Eamon spent my father's money."

"On tape."

"I want to go to the apartment."

He looked at me.

"Tomorrow morning," I said. "I'm telling you where I'm going. Those are the terms."

"Those are the terms," he said slowly.

"I want my father's watch. It's in his lunch pail on the closet shelf. And his papers."

"It's the first place they'll look for you."

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