The Babbling Brook Naked Poker Club - Book One by Ann Warner Page B

them. We
consider that evidence you’ve been systematically stealing from
residents. I suggest you stop with the lame excuses and tell us how
you plan to repay those you stole from.”
    “Wow. I knew you didn’t like me, Josephine,
but to accuse me of something like this. It’s just, well, it’s
mind-boggling.”
    “Ah, yes. The best defense is a strong
offense defense. And if you please, don’t Josephine me. I am
Mrs. Bartlett.”
    Eddie looked around the group, beginning, I
believe, to comprehend his dilemma.
    “We have the receipts documenting the
fraudulent transactions, and based on those, we’ve made some
best-guess estimates of what you’ve likely embezzled over the past
year. We believe the amount could be substantial.”
    “Embezzled is such an ugly word.”
    “What word would you use?” I said.
    Eddie shook his head. “I . . . I
did it for . . . S-sara.” His lip trembled and his eyes
teared up, but the microexpression looked calculating to me. “She’s
sick. That’s why I took this job. For the insurance. But it doesn’t
pay well enough, and I’m desperate. I just want my baby girl to get
better.”
    I glanced around at the group, trying to
gauge their reactions. Myrtle was dabbing at her eyes, and Edna was
clearly softening, but Lill was tapping her lip, which meant she
didn’t buy Eddie’s story any more than I did.
    “What’s wrong with Sara?” I said.
    “She has cancer.”
    “Yes. What kind of cancer?”
    “Something’s wrong with her blood.”
    “Do you mean leukemia?”
    “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Leukemia.” The man might
look bright, but looks were clearly deceiving. He was, however, sly
and clever. “She needs lots of medicine, and it makes her really,
really sick.”
    “You poor man,” Myrtle said. “I had no idea
you had a sick daughter.”
    “I don’t like to say much,” Eddie said. “I
mean, everyone here has problems, haven’t they?” He shrugged. “I
don’t want to burden you with my problems.”
    “But maybe we can help you,” Myrtle
said.
    Bertie was nodding, whether from sleepiness
or as a Pavlovian response to what Myrtle was saying, I had no way
of knowing.
    “Tell us what we can do to help,” Myrtle
insisted.
    I snorted; I couldn’t help myself. The
meeting was turning into a shambles, and all because Myrtle let
emotions rule rather than common sense.
    “Now, Josephine,” Myrtle said. “I can’t
allow us to do something here that would hurt a little girl.”
    “Of course you can’t, Myrtle. But I’m not
sure how he plans to pay medical expenses with a Cheesecake Factory
gift card.”
    “I . . . I just wanted to give her
a treat. As soon as she feels like eating again.”
    Eddie had his head down but he shot me a
glance, and I could see he knew he’d won. This round, anyway.
    “It would be devastating if I lost this
job,” he continued, his voice cracking.
    The man should try out for one of those
reality television shows. Biggest Liar , maybe.
    “If I lost my insurance, Sara could
die.”
    I stood. I could not take another moment of
the man’s duplicity and Myrtle and Bertie’s fawning stupidity. Lill
stood as well. I thought to make a parting statement about what had
transpired, but Lill got a firm grip on my arm and steered me out
the door.
    “Did you believe him?” I said as we walked
away.
    “Of course not. The man’s no good.”
    “Then why—”
    “Why didn’t I say so?”
    “Yes.”
    “Wouldn’t have done a lick of good. Myrtle
was on a sympathy roll. No sense getting riled about something
unstoppable like that. What we need to do is make sure those
receipts and written statements are hidden away where Eddie can’t
get his hands on them. Then we’re going to find out if he has a
sick daughter, which I don’t believe he has. And once we do that,
I’m ready to report him, but to someone with more authority than
Mr. Souter.”
    “Edna has the documentation.”
    “She’s currently engaged. I propose we go
collect