Modern - Chapter 12

"You're right. This would never work."

This conversation was turning out just as awkward and uncomfortable as I expected it to be. I tried not to let myself give in to Emmy's tears that she was clearly trying to hide. Again, I felt torn. If she were really a criminal, wouldn't she use a potent weapon like female tears to her advantage instead of trying to put up a strong front?

We sat quietly for a bit and I found myself looking at her more closely. She looked beautiful with her hair pulled up in a loose bun and her flowery shirt that reminded me of spring. She was sitting with her shoulders slumped, looking away to hide the tears that I suspected were streaming down her lovely face. She seemed to be fidgeting with some kind of jewelry in her hands. I caught an occasional flash of gold as her fingers twisted and twined around it.

An unexpected feeling of urgency came over me, pressing me to ask about the jewelry in her hands. I tried to ignore it. Now was not the time for such commonplace questions. Unfortunately, it just grew and grew until I felt I would burst.

"What is that?" I asked, looking intently at what I was starting to think was probably a necklace.

She hesitated a moment before answering. "It's a family heirloom. My mom gave it to me when I graduated from high school." Her voice was still thick with emotion, but the strange feeling was now pushing me to hold the necklace.

"May I?" I held out a hand, unsure why this felt so important.

She tentatively set it in my palm, looking as confused as I felt.

A thorough examination showed nothing extraordinary. It was a pretty gold locket carved like a flower with a diamond on the front. The pictures inside were of a couple from another century. The only thing of note was that the chain seemed to be broken. I mentioned that as I passed it back to Emmy, still wondering why I had felt such a strong urge to see it.

"Yes. It's the original chain. They're both antiques, so it's a bit expensive to get it fixed. I'm- I'm saving to get it repaired. It's just going to take another month or two," she answered.

And suddenly it all made sense. She couldn't afford to get her necklace fixed. "You can't afford to get your necklace fixed!" I knew my voice was probably insultingly happy, but I didn't care.

"I already said that," she grumbled.

"But this is perfect! There's no way you could be the bad guy if you can't afford something so small!" I answered, still caught up in the realization that, if she couldn't afford to fix a treasured necklace, she clearly didn't have a healthy source of side income.

After a short pause, she asked, "What?" She was looking at me like I was crazy. And shoot, maybe I was crazy. I laughed again, the pure relief of this moment filling me with joy.

"You're not unexpectedly wealthy."

"Nooooooo. . ." She scooted closer to the other arm of the couch, clearly trying to put even more distance between us and still looking at me like I needed mental help.

I laughed one more time, letting out all of the stress I had been feeling since I saw her yesterday and realized she was my top suspect. Finally calmed down enough to talk rationally, I scooted over until I was sitting only a couple inches from Emmy and grabbed her hand.

"Would you like to hear a funny story?" I asked, holding tight when she tried half-heartedly to pull her hand away.

"Not if it turns me into a crazy person," she muttered, glancing at me suspiciously.

"It won't, I promise." Not waiting for her answer, I dove right in, explaining my real mission to the company and my realization on Monday that Amelia Watsen was in the perfect position to be behind the crimes.

"So when I saw you there and made the connection that you were Amelia Watsen, my number one suspect, I knew that I had to end things between us."

Emmy had stopped trying to escape once I started my story and was holding my hand with both of hers by the end. She looked up at me with a bemused expression.

"So you really thought that I was a criminal?"

"I wasn't sure, but I thought you might be."

"And now you know I'm not?"

"If you were embezzling money or selling company secrets, why would you be waiting to get your beloved family heirloom repaired? That's not exactly something you'd have to save for if you had side income. I already didn't feel right about having you as a suspect. You don't really seem like the criminal type. This just confirmed my gut feeling, I guess."

"So now you don't want to end our friendship?"

I squeezed her hands. "No, I absolutely don't want to end our friendship. And I'm hoping, now that you know what's really going on, you might be willing to help me."

"How can I help?"

"You've been here longer than I have. You can help me narrow down my list of suspects and look into the files. I'm sure you know more about the people here and the culture. Would you help me?"

She looked into my eyes searchingly. I could see the indecision in her eyes and put on my most pleading expression.

Instead of coercing her to take pity on me, it made her giggle.

"Are you laughing at me?" I asked, slightly offended.

"I'm sorry, but. . . are you really using beggy eyes on me?"

"Beggy eyes?"

"Yes. Like Puss in Boots on Shrek, when his eyes get all big and cute and. . . well, beggy."

I tried to maintain my offended mien, but I slowly broke into a smile. "I suppose I am," I admitted.

"Well, it worked. I would be happy to help you in your quest. I want the company to remain successful, and that won't happen if someone is sabotaging us like this."

"True. Okay, we should buckle down and go through the files together. What is your opinion on-"

"Ohhhh no," she interrupted. "We are NOT doing work tonight. You are going to treat me to dinner to make up for the dinner you flaked out on yesterday and then dessert to make up for having to drag your drunk behind home."

I threw back my head and laughed a nice, long belly laugh. This woman was certainly going to keep me on my toes.