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Eight

Madison beelined for her desk, her mind on the top right-hand drawer and her stash of Hershey’s bars. If she just ate one, it should be enough to hold her for a while. It was going on six thirty, and despite the onset and offset of nausea, she could eat, just not anything too heavy. She rummaged in the drawer, pulled out a bar and tore the wrapper back.

“Why am I not surprised?” Terry was walking toward his desk, which faced hers.

“Never mind. Did you print the report?” She bit off some chocolate.

“No, I thought I’d just lay my head down, catch a couple winks while I waited on you.”

“Your sarcasm is alive and well.”

“I learn from the best. That’s you, just in case you needed a clue.”

“Very funny.”

“Are you really eating a chocolate bar for dinner?”

She laughed. Terry, her food monitor. “I’m not sure why that would surprise you.” They’d been partners going on eight years, and for that length of time, she’d always had a chocolate—more specifically, a Hershey’s—addiction.

“I was hoping we’d stop somewhere, hit a drive-thru on the way to the ex-husband’s—”

“Because that’s so much healthier.” She mumbled, “Vegetable,” just before taking another bite of heaven.

“If that’s what you have to tell yourself to soothe your conscience.”

She scowled at him while her mouth was full of gooey milk chocolate. “Ymm,” she moaned and closed her eyes.

“You really have a problem. You know that?”

“Whatev—” She chomped on another chunk. “Ymm.”

Terry shook his head. “While you masticate that bar like a—”

She stopped chewing, her glare daring him to finish his sentence.

“In direct answer to your question, yes, I printed the background on Carson.”

She finished her mouthful and looked at Terry. “And?”

“Carson got divorced eight months ago. She and her husband have had separate addresses for a couple years. He stayed in Deer Glen where the couple had lived together for twenty-seven years, and she moved to a house in Rosedale after their separation, until two months ago when she moved into an apartment in the east end.”

Deer Glen and Rosedale were both high-end communities in the north end of Stiles. It was the type of suburbia that employed groundkeepers and maids.

“What made her move?” she asked.

“Not something the report tells us.”

“Smart-ass. Was she fired or—”

“Not from what I can see. She started working at Southern Life around the time of her separation, and it looks like she was still there.”

“Those reports aren’t always up-to-date.”

“Well, there’s no way we can drop by and confirm her employment at this time on a Saturday.”

“They’re an insurance company, yes? So, what if a customer needs to make a claim? There has to be a twenty-four-hour, seven-day-a-week number.”

“Sure, but it’s not like anyone at the call center could verify Carson’s employment. We’ll need to wait until Monday and go into their local office.”

She hated to concede that he was right. “What about her ex-husband, what does he do?”

“He’s some bigwig manager with Stiles Insurance Company.”

“They’re huge.”

“Yep. Boasted sales into the high eight figures last year.”

“What I’m stuck on is…it seems the wife went to work for the competition. Because insurance was what she knew, or to stick it to her husband in some way? Where did she work before Southern Life?”

“For Stiles Insurance Company, but that’s going back twenty-five years.”

“And she was married for how long?”

“Twenty-three.”

“You said they lived together for twenty-seven years, so that means she left her job…” She really hated math.

“It would have been around the same time as when they got married.”

“Okay. Well, they must not have needed her money.”

“I’d say not. Bill Carson doesn’t need to work either. He has a net worth of eleven mil.”

“All from selling insurance?”

Terry shook his head. “Family money. He inherited when his parents died. Bill would have been fifteen.”

“Quite a fall for Chantelle Carson to go from living the lifestyle of the rich and famous to an apartment in the east end.”

“I’d say.”

“So, what took her there? You said she had a nice place in Rosedale even after they separated, yet she took a job almost right away. Maybe more to keep busy than for the money? We need to notify Bill Carson, but we also need to ask him some questions.”

“I agree.”

If she wasn’t deeply rooted to her chair, she might have toppled over—Terry had actually agreed with her on something. “Did the couple have any kids?”

“Nope. And her parents are gone. But I’ve got Bill’s address already in my phone, and I’d be happy to tell you where to go.”

She stuffed a big piece of chocolate into her mouth and spoke. “I’m sure you would.”

“Oh—” Terry moaned in disgust and held up a hand to block his view of her.

She got up, taking what was left of the bar, and headed to the station lot. She didn’t know what she’d do without Terry in her life. He really was like the brother she never had, and it was so easy to get him riled up.