“Yes, Jack’s a good kid, but have you heard what those other snot-nosed bastards in his class are saying about him?”
“It wasn’t one of his classmates. It was just some dumb player from the visiting team.”
“I’m not talking about what happened at the game on Saturday. Have you seen this?” Joel asked as he scooped up a laptop from the counter and set it down in front of Sandra on the kitchen table.
Sandra stared at the screen. It was the Dirty Laundry website and the latest headline. Just above the salacious allegations about Stephen’s sexual harassment scandal was a teasing story about Kevin Metcalf’s losing battle with drug addiction.
“Go on, read it,” Joel barked. “They’re saying he’s practically dead and buried already!”
Sandra read the first few sentences but could not go on any further. She closed the computer. “You shouldn’t be reading this filth, Joel. We both know there is not a shred of truth to anything this person writes.”
Joel’s fury grew. His face turned a deep red, his eyes were blazing, and the veins on his neck began to pop out. His finger shook as he raised it and pointed it at her. “I swear to you, Sandra, if I find out who is behind this despicable site, whether it’s one person or a dozen . . . I will hunt them down, and, I swear to God, I will wrap my hands around every last neck responsible and squeeze as hard as I can . . . until I hear the last gasps of air come out of their big, lying mouths . . .”
“Joel, please . . . ,” Sandra whispered urgently, not wanting to hear any more.
She shuddered to think he was capable of such violence, but in her gut, she knew he was dead serious.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Maya took the check from her client Jessica Farrow, who sat across from her in a hard-back chair, a satisfied smile on her face. Maya glanced down at the number of zeroes in the amount scribbled on the check and tried hard not to break out into a wide grin.
“Thank you,” Maya said gratefully.
All of the bills were now going to get paid this month.
“It was a job well done. That photographic evidence you captured of Cyrus sucking face with that silicone-infused dimwit he’s been boffing on the side just secured me the house on the cape in the divorce settlement.”
Whatever makes you happy, Maya thought to herself. She folded her hands and rested them on the desk and decided to drive home her usual sales pitch. “If you ever find yourself in need of our services again . . .”
Jessica Farrow stood up and extended her hand. “I will be sure to keep you in mind. I have many wealthy girlfriends, most of whom are also married to horny cheating husbands, so I’ll be sure to keep your number on hand.”
“I certainly appreciate it, Mrs. Farrow,” Maya said, jumping up from her chair and shaking her hand.
“Jessica, please. I thought about going back to my maiden name after the divorce papers are signed, but then I thought, the name Farrow also gets me a good table at most of the finer restaurants in the Old Port.”
“Wise thinking.”
“Are you married, Maya?”
“Yes, I mean, well, no, not anymore—”
It was such a simple question, why did she always fumble it so badly?
“One of the smart ones, I see,” Jessica said with a wink.
Maya wasn’t too sure about that. She could barely cover her electric bill, and Jessica Farrow was about to secure the deed to a sprawling mansion situated next to the Kennedy compound in Cape Cod.
Jessica turned to leave, when there was a quick knock on the door. It flew open and Vanessa stood in the doorway.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were with a client,” Vanessa said sheepishly.
“Why aren’t you in school?” Maya asked.
“It’s almost four thirty. School was over an hour ago,” Vanessa sighed.
Maya checked her watch. “Oh. I guess I lost track of time. Don’t you have theater rehearsal or something?”
“Not until six. I told you that this morning.”
“That’s right,” Maya smiled apologetically. “I remember now.”
“Is this your daughter?” Jessica asked, taking a step toward Vanessa, who still hovered in the doorway, not sure if she should come in.
“Yes, this is Vanessa,” Maya said.
“She’s gorgeous,” Jessica exclaimed.
Maya and Vanessa both spoke at the same time. “Thank you.”
“I have to run. Thanks again, Maya. I’ll be in touch,” Jessica said, breezing past Vanessa, down the hall, the clicking of her high heels fading as she rounded the corner toward the elevator.
Vanessa waited until she was completely gone before slipping into the office and closing the door behind her. “Did she give you a check?”
Maya held it up in front of her. “Five grand.”
“Awesome!” Vanessa said. “Now I won’t have to study at night by candlelight. I can actually use a lamp with a light bulb and electricity and everything.”
“Don’t be flippant,” Maya scolded. “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t a loving daughter just pop by her mother’s office to say hello after a long day of learning at school?”
“Of course. But you’re not that kind of loving daughter. You would only swing by here if you needed something.”
“That hurt,” Vanessa said, putting on a fake pout.
“It was meant to,” Maya said matter-of-factly. “So what do you need?”
Vanessa contemplated pretending some more that her motive for this unexpected visit was pure, but she quickly gave up on that and came clean. “I need a favor.”
“I’m listening . . .”
“This Dirty Laundry site is getting way out of hand. It’s literally tearing my school apart.”
“I’m very aware of that. But it’s only thriving because every student is clicking on the site constantly to read the latest gossipy headline. If everybody at your school boycotted it, the site would lose oxygen and finally wither away and die. It’s a very simple solution.”
“Well, we both know that’s never going to happen. People can’t help themselves. They’re too curious to know what story the site is going to break next.”
“Including you,” Maya said.
“Yes, including me. All my friends, they check it out three, sometimes four times a day. I have to keep up.”
“What can I do?”
Vanessa took a deep breath and then planted both of her hands down on her mother’s desk. “I want you to investigate the site and find out who’s behind it.”
“You want to hire me?”
“Yes. Well, obviously I can’t pay you anything.”
“Obviously.”
“But you’re a really good detective, and if anybody can finger who is hurting people at the school and causing so much pain, it’s you.”
“I appreciate the flattery, but you know I don’t have the time to do it.”
“What are you talking about? You just wrapped up your only case. You made five grand.”
“Yes,