Free No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7 by Sara M. Barton Page B

for the shower,
I stopped and looked back. Bosco pulled on his tee shirt, and as
his head emerged, he met my gaze.
    “What?”
    “Dumb question, Bosco. Do a
lot of guys have mistresses?” He threw his head back and
laughed.
    “Babe, most embezzlers have
some kind of vice or love interest that drives them to bad
behavior. Whether it’s the bookkeeper with the penchant for betting
on the horses or the family man who cleans out his company because
he’s got a woman on the side, a lot of people do dumb things. Do
they do it for the thrill of it, for the money, or for their own
selfish needs? It all depends. And just for the record, I’ve seen
female executives, lawyers, doctors, and even educators have their
little flings. It’s not just guys who screw around on their loved
ones.”
    “Hmm...I must sound like
Pollyanna, thinking that everyone has goodness inside, and it’s
only a matter of bringing out the best in people.” I shook my head,
disappointed in myself.
    “Don’t throw the baby out
with the bathwater, Dori. There are still people worthy of
believing in. You just have to learn to tell the
difference.”
    “Maybe.” I shrugged, padding
down the hall to the bathroom
    “Don’t stop believing in
people,” he called after me. “It’s better than having no faith at
all. The world still needs optimists. I’ll get the coffee
started.”
    By twenty after eight, I was
in my office at Dynamic Productions. Dom was working in his cubicle
in the open production area. When the phone rang, I picked up,
knowing Gloria would want me to take a message.
    “Dori, what’s the deal?” It
was Thad Macklehenny, the advertising director for Platinum Health.
“You’ve had our account for more than a decade. Why have you
increased your fees by twenty percent?
    “Excuse me?” I was stunned.
Ralph never said anything to me about a price change.”
    “I just got the bill for the
last commercial. It’s the same number of hours, but you’ve upped
your rates. In this economy? It’s a recipe for disaster, Dori.
After all the business we’ve sent your way, I expect better than
that from Dynamic Productions!”
    “Thad, there must be some
kind of clerical error on that bill. We haven’t changed our fees.
Let me find out what went wrong and get back to you.”
    As soon as I hung up the
desk phone, I pulled out my cell and dialed Bosco’s. In a quiet
voice, I filled him in. Standing in the doorway of my office, I had
a view through the front window. I could see Gloria pull into the
parking lot. She lingered in the car, running a brush through her
long hair, before pulling it back in a ponytail. The office phone
rang again as she dawdled over her makeup.
    “Bosco, let me get that.
I’ll call you right back.” I picked up the receiver. It was Mary
Lemanski, the advertising manager at Good Fruit, a gourmet foods
company that had a national distribution delivery service. We had
just finished three thirty-second commercials and an infomercial
for their website.
    “Hey, Dori,” she said in a
friendly tone. “How’s everything?”
    “Same old, same old. How’s
everything with you?”
    “Not so good, I’m afraid. My
boss took a chunk out of me this morning, after she saw the bill
for Dynamic Productions.”
    “What do you
mean?”
    “You people quoted us
$45,000 for those spots, but the bill is for $63,000.”
    “That’s a mistake. I sent
you the quote myself, and I know there were no overages. Is it
itemized?”
    “It is. There’s even a new
fee for production quality assurance, which is $4,300. What the
hell is production quality assurance?”
    “I’ve never heard of it.
Listen, Mary. How long have you known me?” I walked over to the
door and shut it quietly. Gloria was now in the office, starting a
pot of coffee. Kendall was coming through the front door, carrying
camera equipment.
    “A long, long
time.”
    “Can I ask you to do me a
huge favor? You’re the second call today about the fee increase.
I’m