Voted Out Read online

  “Now?” Sophie’s innocent expression didn’t fool Liliane.

  Everyone in town knew Sophie was married to one of the sweetest guys alive, a truck driver named Ethan. Her husband doted on her and their nine-year-old twin boys, but if the rumors were to be believed, other guys warmed up her bed while Ethan traveled out-of-town.

  Liliane never paid much attention to gossips, but it changed the evening she hosted a wine and cheese event at her gallery. Some guests she knew better than others, and not all of them showed interest in her collection, but when Sophie asked if she could look at the paintings in her studio, Liliane didn’t object. Her small gallery couldn’t accommodate all her artwork, so she rotated them on a regular basis. Most of her patrons were aware she kept the other ones in the studio at the back. At that moment, Sophie’s request didn’t raise any suspicion.

  Ten minutes later, Liliane had ventured into the studio to fetch a new receipt book and stumbled on something she would never paint on her canvas. A disheveled blonde, her skirt hiked up, entertaining a stranger who’d misplaced his pants. While the couple didn’t spot her, Liliane wished she hadn’t seen them. She could have happily lived without that image clogging her memory.

  Liliane stifled a sigh. “Yes, Sophie. Now.”

  The two revising agents seemed too focused on their tasks to notice the departure of their supervisor.

  Back in her office, Liliane closed the door, turned her music on, and invited Sophie to sit.

  The blonde woman crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair facing Liliane’s desk. “Why am I here, Liliane? Is there a problem?”

  “You could say that.” In the last week or so, it felt like her problems had multiplied faster than vermin and were as hard, if not harder, to exterminate. “At what time did you leave last night?”

  “Around 7:00 p.m.” The revision supervisor tapped long red nails adorned with silver stars on the armrest. “Why?”

  The timesheet Sophie had submitted for herself said 7:00 p.m. and Liliane had no reason to believe she’d lied by more than a few minutes. She presented Milton’s timesheet to Sophie who glanced over it.

  “Laurie Milton? She’s my neighbor. She worked from 6:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. last night. I just found her timesheet on her chair, so I slipped it under your door. She must have been in a hurry to—” Sophie stared at her with eyes as large as saucers. “Don’t tell me she left before 9:00 and there was no one to answer the phones? I’m so going to fire her and build that fence between our houses.”

  Unlike her wedding vows, Sophie took her work seriously, and she excelled at it. Her outburst sounded genuine, and confirmed Liliane’s latest suspicion.

  “Relax, Sophie.” Liliane never intended to start a neighborhood war. “Laurie didn’t sneak out early. She even gave Gloria a ride home at the end of the evening.”

  Sophie heaved an audible sigh of relief. “Good, because between you and me, I wasn’t too sure about her commitment, but she was the only one who volunteered to work the graveyard shift so I hired her. We’ll see if the guy I booked for next week to work with her bothers to show up. I have even less faith in him. If things get busier and he stands me up, I’ll stay till 9:00. Ethan and the boys are leaving on a two-week camping trip. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”

  In light of Sophie’s repeated admission that one lone agent worked the graveyard shift, Liliane placed a second timesheet on top of Laurie’s. “From what you’re telling me, I take it Rose Cartier didn’t show up last night? Was her timesheet stuck to Laurie’s? Did you slip it under my door by mistake?”

  The supervisor opened and closed her mouth a few times without making a sound while she seemed to ponder what to say.

  “Sophie, if you’re thinking of lying to me, don’t waste your breath.” Don’t insult my intelligence and don’t waste my time either. The revision supervisor wasn’t the fish that Liliane wanted to fry. “We both know Rose Cartier didn’t work last night, or any other nights.”

  No training was ever recorded for Rose, no oaths were ever signed, and the woman wasn’t on Liliane’s payroll. No agent started working without meeting these three requirements.

  No doubts existed in Liliane’s mind that Thomas hid behind that new scheme. Did he really believe I wouldn’t notice? Or that I would blindly add Rose to the payroll?

  Sophie leaned forward. “I don’t expect you to understand, Liliane, so just be a darling and pay her, would you? It’ll make Thomas happy.”

  On the contrary, Liliane understood. She understood too well. As a headache spread its tendrils, seeding murderous thoughts into her brain, her iPhone vibrated once in her pocket. Someone had sent her a text message, but reading it would have to wait. “Sophie, I’m not a darling, yours or anyone else’s. And pleasing Thomas is so far down my list, it’s not even on the same page. He’s blackmailing you, isn’t he?”

  A look of horrified panic gripped the blonde woman’s face. “The weasel showed you the picture, didn’t he? I’m going to kill him. You can’t tell anyone, Liliane. I beg you. If Ethan finds out, he’ll leave me and take the boys with him.”

  Her imagination didn’t need to run away too far to understand the kind of picture the distraught revision supervisor referred to, and having guessed right didn’t bring Liliane any satisfaction. “Your secret is safe with me, but I want to know the story behind that timesheet.”

  “The girl is a college student, a young and pretty drama student. Thomas hired her for the summer. You could say she’s in charge of his private entertainment.” Sophie’s gaze traveled around the room. “Yesterday, he came to me with her timesheet. He threatened to show the picture to Ethan if I didn’t sign it. I knew it was wrong, but what else was I supposed to do?”

  The temptation to act on those deadly thoughts taking shape in Liliane’s mind grew stronger and stronger. What incentive could a college girl have to date a married, fifty-something bald man who avoided the gym like a pest? It couldn’t be sex. Not even with a dozen blue pills. It had to be money.

  That money is not coming from my electoral budget.

  By the same token, Liliane couldn’t let Sophie take the fall while Thomas suffered no consequences.

  Shoot me, someone.

  Liliane could have sworn damage control wasn’t included in the finance officer’s job description. “You did what Thomas asked you to do, Sophie. You signed the sheet and gave it to me. You can go back to work as if nothing happened.”

  A weight seemed to lift from Sophie’s shoulders. “I owe you, Liliane.”

  After the incident at the wine and cheese event, it might be best if Liliane didn’t keep a tally sheet of IOUs. “Then do me a favor, would you, and let me know if Thomas tries one of his little schemes again.”

  “I promise to report anything suspicious. Thank you.” The blonde woman stood. “Will that be all?”

  Liliane dismissed her with a short nod. After the door closed behind Sophie, she picked up a turquoise pen from her favorite novelty coffee mug. A yellow minion with one eye was pictured on the cup along with the quote You don’t need to be crazy to work here, we’ll train you.

  “I’m trained alright. Now let’s see...” Deep in thought, she nibbled on the end of her pen. “How am I going to word this?”

  A few minutes later, she wrote a note on Rose’s timesheet.

  Rose Cartier didn’t show up for any training sessions or for any of the above-mentioned shifts. Therefore, she wasn’t added to the payroll.

  Liliane signed her name in turquoise, then filed the timesheet in a special folder. If Thomas ever inquired why his summer playgirl didn’t get paid, Liliane would pull out the timesheet and force him to override her note with his own explanation and signature before she agreed to process it.

  Many adjectives described Thomas, but stupid didn’t belong to that list. He wouldn’t risk being caught, which was the reason he used other people to do his dirty work.

  “One problem solved. Now, who wants a piece of me
?” She retrieved her iPhone to read the message she received while talking with Sophie.

  It came from Damien.

  I’m at car rental agency, corner of 8th & Wilson. Engine problem. We need to talk. Want to go for supper while I wait for a new car?

  Though the man didn’t ask, his message implied he also wanted her to go pick him up across town. She had planned on going home for a quiet supper, not dine out, but they needed to talk. For both their sakes, it might be preferable if it didn’t rouse Thomas’ suspicion.

  She answered him back.

  Meet you there in 20 minutes.

  A year ago, an East Indian restaurant had opened across the street from the car rental agency. It would be a discreet place to hold an impromptu meeting.

  ~ * ~

  Nathalie’s office faced Liliane’s in The Catacombs.

  Its location displeased Thomas. He would have preferred for his technology officer to choose the empty office next to his so he could visit her without bumping into Liliane. No matter which way he turned, he kept crossing paths with his finance officer.

  If only his private secretary hadn’t suggested Liliane when he told her he sought a replacement for his niece. Celine, why did you have to book that cruise? Couldn’t you wait another month?

  When he overheard Liliane tell Gloria that she was headed home for supper, Thomas took advantage of her absence to venture into The Catacombs and pay Nathalie a visit.

  The sophisticated woman used to teach basic information technology at the local college, but after her husband suffered a stroke last fall, Nathalie quit her job to nurse him back to health. Despite her care, she failed to prevent a second stroke. From what Thomas gathered, her husband died on a cold winter day back in January while Nathalie was out grocery shopping.

  Convincing her to become his technology officer had taken a considerable amount of time and effort. Thomas didn’t care that she’d never worked an election before as long as she knew her way around computers. Besides, he favored female workers who possessed limited knowledge of how elections were conducted—or women he could manipulate.

  Like Nathalie, Liliane should have fallen in the first category. It pained him to admit his finance officer was more intelligent than he gave her credit for, but not smart enough to outplay him.

  Soft classical music wafted through Nathalie’s open door, spilling into the hallway. Unlike her neighbor, she displayed great taste in music and clothes. For a woman in her mid-fifties, she looked well preserved and well endowed.

  He knocked on the doorframe. “May I come in?”

  Nathalie turned her head away from her computer screen and gazed at him from above the rim of delicate pewter glasses. “Sure. Take a seat.”

  Though tempted, he didn’t close the door. He didn’t want to make her feel cornered, but that didn’t stop him from placing the chair he pulled out on her side of the desk, within inches of hers.

  She narrowed her gorgeous brown eyes. “There’s room on the other side, you know.”

  Undaunted by her dubious look, he lowered his voice to convey the secretive nature of his visit. “I know, but what I have to tell you is confidential and cannot, under any circumstances, leave this room.” He paused to let his words sink in, to produce the perfect theatrical effect. “In the last few days, I uncovered suspicious activities. I could be wrong, and I’m hoping to be wrong, but it looks like Liliane is embezzling funds.”

  Nathalie shot a brow right up her hairline. “Do you have proof?”

  Proofs were optional and evidence was easy to manufacture. Had his finance officer not confronted him, he would have created the illusion of misconduct to undermine her credibility and reputation. Under the circumstances, the disdainful woman deserved his full wrath.

  Nobody humiliates Thomas Spencer Finch. “No proof yet, and I don’t want to make any accusations until I check her messages. If I could access her email account, it could shed some light on those activities. Like I said, I’m hoping my suspicions are unfounded, in which case I could put this unpleasant business to rest without her knowing I investigated her.”

  As technology officer, Nathalie possessed a master list of all the passwords. Thomas kept a copy of the list, but when he tried accessing Liliane’s account, he hit a wall. If he could send one of the letters from her computer, then delete it afterward, she would never realize she’d been hacked and it would hammer the final nail in her coffin.

  Out of desperation, he’d sought Nathalie’s help.

  For what felt like an eternity, she stared at her computer while drumming her fingers on her mouse without clicking on it. “The only way you can access Liliane’s emails, without her knowing you did, is to use her password. It would log her out of her account as soon as you sign in, but there are so many glitches with the system I doubt she would suspect anything amiss. She would log back in, which in turn would kick you out. That would be your cue to wait before making another attempt.”

  Since he had no intention of tampering with her account while she was in the office, he shouldn’t encounter that in and out dance. “Understood. Now if you could give me her password, I’ll be out of your hair and you can forget we ever shared this discussion.”

  A peculiar glint lit her eyes as the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. “Well, I can’t say I wish I could, but I can’t. Liliane changed her password. You’re out of luck, Thomas.”

  He’d warned his key personnel against changing the passwords assigned to them. At the time, no one questioned him so it never occurred to him that one of his employees might not heed his strong directive.

  How dare she disobey my orders. Though that explained why his previous attempts had failed, he refused to throw in the towel. Defeat wasn’t an option. “That doesn’t bode well for her, does it, Nathalie? If she had nothing to hide, she wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of protecting her account. Can you reset her password?”

  Thomas knew his technology officer had the capability to reset passwords when their owners forgot them, a task performed on a regular basis in offices where employees updated their passwords too often.

  “Yes, I could.” Her arms crossed over her chest, she leaned back in her chair. “However, it wouldn’t take long for Liliane to find out, change it again, then barge into my office asking for an explanation.”

  The explanation doesn’t need to be true. If he hurried before she returned from supper, he might not need to hack her more than once, therefore minimizing her suspicion. “Reset her password. Now.”

  Nathalie’s glasses slid down her nose as she gave him another dubious look. “You want me to tell Liliane I reset her password on your request? I thought you didn’t want her to know.”

  An exasperated sigh inflated his chest, and he fought to keep it inside. He was the returning officer. His employees were paid to obey him, not question every one of his orders. “If Liliane asks, tell her you clicked on her account by mistake. I trust you can come up with an excuse she’ll believe?”

  She dared roll her eyes at him. “You want me to lie to her?”

  Women lie all the time. It’s no big deal. “Listen, Nathalie...” Slanting toward her, he moved his right hand from his lap to her thigh. “I can’t imagine how lonely you must feel since your husband’s untimely death, but if you grant me this little favor, I promise to make it up to you.”

  She grabbed his forearm, sending jolts of pleasure rushing through his veins. To his dismay, the sensation ended abruptly, replaced by sharp and sustained pain.

  With glossy peach fingernails digging into his skin, ready to draw blood, she glared at him. “You have two seconds to remove your hand, or I will chop your banana and feed it to the purple minions.”

  Chapter Four

  ~If you can’t fix it, break it.~

  With the traffic heavier than usual, Liliane arrived in the lobby of the rental car agency ten minutes late.

  Damien welcomed her with a hug. “Thanks for coming to rescue me, Lily. By the way, you look
amazing.”

  For better or for worse, the man possessed an undeniable charm to which his wife—soon to be ex-wife—had become immune.

  She patted his shoulder. “I can’t say you’ve changed much either since the last time I encountered you.”

  A playful shrug rocked his body. “It’s hard to improve perfection. Are you hungry? It doesn’t look like they’ll have a car ready for another hour.”

  An hour was about all the time she could afford away from the office. “I can spare sixty minutes. Follow me. We’re walking.”

  Few customers patronized the restaurant this early on weekdays, so when Liliane asked the server to seat them at a booth in the remote corner, she obliged with a smile.

  Damien dismissed the menu he was presented. “Black coffee, please. And I’ll have what she orders.”

  The man sitting across the table loved food and enjoyed browsing through a menu and commenting on the different ingredients. For Damien to rely on her choice, when he had no idea what she would select, was uncharacteristic at best and alarming at worst.

  “I’ll take the daily special.” When she entered, Liliane had glanced at the green board above the hostess’ desk advertising the daily special. If her memory served her right, it consisted of a chicken and curry dish.

  The woman whose maroon shirt sported the logo of the restaurant embroidered in silver threads over her heart, scribbled down their order on tiny loose sheets of paper. “Mild, medium, or hot, ma’am?”

  Two chefs alternated in the kitchen. After a few visits, Liliane realized their definition of mild and medium didn’t coincide. Regardless, she liked both versions. “One mild and one medium. If you could also bring me a coffee, that would be great.”

  When Damien didn’t react to her choice, she knew something grave weighed on his mind. She placed her iPhone on the ivory lace tablecloth, in case someone contacted her about something urgent, then waited for the server to walk away before probing.