Free Schooled In Lies by Angela Henry

blinked nervously a couple of times and shook his head slowly but never looked me in the eye.
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Look, I’m glad I could help you out, Kendra. But I’ve got another client coming pretty soon. Go on home and think about which IRA you’d like then we can schedule another consultation and we’ll have more time to talk.” He walked over to his office door and held it open for me.
    He wasn’t the worst liar I’d ever seen but he sure was close. Just for fun I sat and stared at him for a minute without speaking and watched him twist in the wind. He rocked back on his heels, looked at his watch again, pulled on his earlobe, looked up and down the hall. Finally, he looked away from me and down at his highly polished shoes.
    “Thanks for the advice. I appreciate you taking the time to see me.” I got up and walked out the door.
    I sat in my car across the street from Wheatley Financial to think. Something was very wrong. Gerald’s kitchen curtains had caught fire last night. He admitted the kitchen window had been open and assumed a breeze had blown the curtains against the cigarette in the ashtray. It hadn’t been breezy last night. In fact, it was muggy and humid. The heat had hung thick, stagnant, and unmoving in the air. I ought to know. The air conditioner in my apartment was broken and I was miserable.
    With Gerald’s window being open, it would have been easy for someone to reach through the window, put a burning cigarette in the ashtray, and hold the curtains against the cigarette to catch them on fire. Just as it would have been easy to put baby oil on the cafeteria steps Ms. Flack fell down, spike something Audrey drank with alcohol, tamper with Dennis’s vacuum, and try and run Cherisse down in the street. I knew Audrey and Cherisse had gotten strange threatening messages. Even though Dennis had never told me what had been painted on his garage wall, I would bet anything it had been the same message saying: “You Will Pay For What You Did”. Now I just had to find out if Gerald had gotten a message, too.
    I knew the black BMW convertible parked in the small lot next to Wheatley Financial was Gerald’s. I got out and went over to inspect it. There wasn’t anything keyed in the paint like on Cherisse’s car. I heard the sound of an approaching voice and ran over and hid beside a large dumpster next to the building. I stood on tiptoe, peaked over the top of the dumpster, and watched as Gerald came around the corner talking and laughing on his cell phone. The playfulness in his voice, and his soft seductive laughter, told me he was talking to a woman and it wasn’t about IRAs. He must be working on wife number 4. I watched him hop in his car and drive away and decided to have a go at his office.
    Sunny Abou, receptionist, was on the phone when I went back inside. She covered the receiver with her hand and gave me a quizzical half-smile.
    “Sorry, but I left me keys in Gerald’s office. I can see you’re busy so I’ll just pop in and get them.” I started down the hall. Sunny looked uncertain and stood up to stop me before whoever she was talking to on the phone commanded her attention and she absently waved me on.
    Gerald’s office door was closed but unlocked. I walked in and pulled it shut behind me. I put my ear to the door and could hear Sunny still talking on the phone. I quickly went over to his desk and looked through a thin stack of papers in a steel wire tray. No message. I looked in the metal wastebasket by his desk but found nothing except receipts for gas and coffee, an apple core, a newspaper, an empty Pepsi can, and four pink telephone message slips all from someone named Clair Easton wanting him to call her about her account. On a whim, I grabbed one of the pink slips and stuffed it in my pocket. Next, I turned my attention to his laptop. The top was open and I could see he was still logged into his e-mail. I skimmed through his inbox but