Chapter 7 - The Setup
Maya quickly shoved the ledger into her small clutch purse and closed the safe.
She fixed the painting just as the office door handle began to turn.
Maya dove under the heavy mahogany desk, pulling her dress in tightly.
The door opened.
“I'm telling you, he knows something,” a woman's voice hissed.
It was Mrs. Gordon.
“Calm down, Helen,” Victor's voice replied. “He fired you because you were caught snooping. It's standard procedure.”
“He had the receipt, Victor! That new maid found it.”
Maya clamped her hand over her mouth.
“The maid?” Victor scoffed. “She's a nobody. I'll take care of her.”
“You need to pay me the rest of the money so I can leave the city,” Mrs. Gordon demanded.
“Fine. It's in the safe. Turn around.”
Maya watched Victor's polished shoes walk toward the painting.
She heard the safe beep.
A long pause followed.
“That's interesting,” Victor said, his voice dropping an octave.
“What?”
“The ledger is gone.”
Victor's shoes spun around.
“Did you take it, Helen?”
“No! I swear!”
“Then someone is in this room.”
Maya's heart stopped.
Victor's shoes began pacing around the room.
He was walking directly toward the desk.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from downstairs, followed by the blaring sound of a fire alarm.
Red emergency lights flashed through the office window.
“Damn it!” Victor shouted. “The auction!”
He ran out of the room, leaving the door wide open.
Mrs. Gordon hesitated, then followed him out.
Maya scrambled out from under the desk, clutching her purse.
She ran out of the office and sprinted down the service stairs.
The ballroom was in chaos. Smoke was billowing from the kitchen, and guests were rushing toward the exits.
Through the crowd, a strong hand grabbed her arm.
She gasped, but it was Arthur.
“Did you get it?” he demanded.
Maya nodded, patting her purse.
“Good. I pulled the fire alarm. Let's go.”
They pushed their way out of the mansion and into the waiting limousine.
As the car sped away, Maya pulled the ledger out and handed it to Arthur.
Arthur opened it, reading the entry.
A profound sense of relief washed over his face, followed instantly by cold rage.
“It's over,” Arthur said. “I have him.”
“What do we do now?” Maya asked.
“We go to the state police. The local chief can't protect him from the FBI.”
Maya finally took a deep breath, leaning back against the leather seat.
But her phone buzzed in her purse.
It was a text from her neighbor.
Maya, the front door of your apartment is busted open. I think someone is inside. Should I call the cops?
May you like
Maya's blood ran cold.
“Arthur,” she whispered, terror choking her voice. “My grandmother.”
