“Sorry, Harold.” Sadie held out her fingers for the nearly blind cat to sniff. “It’s just me. Go back to sleep.”
Harold rapidly flipped the end of his tail and flattened his only remaining ear before tucking back into his standard curled-up ball and drifting back to sleep.
Sadie retrieved her billfold from the dresser beside the bed, then hurried back to the waiting courier. She flipped open the wallet and held it up in front of the girl. “There.”
“Could you please take it out, ma’am?”
Sadie stared at her. The girl was just doing her job. Sadie shouldn’t take her shitty life out on her.Pulling in a deep breath, Sadie forced a smile as she worked her ID free of the plastic sleeve, then held out the card. “There you go.”
The courier clipped the ID to her clipboard, made large blackX’s in three places, then pointed to the lines. “Please sign here, and initial here and here, ma’am.”
Sadie didn’t bother reading the page. She just did as requested, then handed the clipboard and pen back to the girl. The efficient courier quickly compared the ID to Sadie’s signature, snapped free the card, then handed it and the package over to Sadie.
“There you go, ma’am. Have a nice day.”
Sadie halfway expected the girl to salute before she turned and marched out the door, but she didn’t—just quickly exited without another word.
Turning the package in her hands, Sadie checked the sender’s information first. That might give her some idea how enraged she was going to be when she ripped open the bulging envelope that felt suspiciously like a thick sheaf of legal documents.
DBS Agency.Sadie frowned at the label. Who or what was the DBS Agency? Knowing her luck, it was probably some bogus private investigator that Delia had hired just to irritate the living daylights out of her. Delia was just that vindictive.
Sadie took a deep breath and peeled the perforated end off the envelope. She peeped into it, gingerly turning the package to try and identify the contents without actually reaching inside. She knew it was silly, but she was almost afraid to stick her hand down in the envelope—half afraid some strange mail demon might take off her fingers at the knuckles.
Slowly easing the envelope open wider, she spotted the first paragraph of the cover letter clipped to what looked like an airline packet, a narrow wallet-like envelope, and some sort of itinerary.Searching websites. Found your stories. Thrilled to offer representation and already have several inquiries in regard to your work from our Broadway affiliates.
“This has to be a scam.” Sadie slapped the envelope shut and threw it on the side table as though it held a snake. No way could it be real.
She’d seen them all before.“For just a minimal investment of five hundred dollars, we’ll guarantee your work will be published—reach bestseller status—and have you living in the lap of luxury in just ninety days!” she parroted in her best infomercial voice imitation.
But why the expensive courier to deliver the packet? Why not just another spammy email promising her the world?
Sadie glared at the packet. Clenching her teeth, she snatched it back off the table and yanked out the contents. She picked up the cover letter, examining the unusual letterhead, looking for evidence of a con so she could turn the elaborate rip-off over to the sheriff before she left town on Saturday.
Odd logo. Reminded her of Ireland.The round medallion looked like the rubbing of a stone symbol that might be found in some ancient Gaelic graveyard. The background was gray, with the embossed imprint of Celtic knots surrounding the glossy black initials of the agency: DBS.
She rubbed her thumbs across the letter’s textured surface. The weight of the paper was heavy. Sadie held it up to the light. Fancy watermark. Looked chillingly legit. She read the letter fully this time.
Dear Ms. Williams,
The DBS Agency prides itself on finding hidden gems in the unlikeliest of places. A patron of the arts and a respected and well-established firm for over fifty years, our agency has successfully nurtured and guided the careers of playwrights, screenwriters, and authors to stellar heights.
“I have never heardof you people.” Sadie scanned through the rest of the propaganda, finally reaching the sentences that had shot a nauseating combination ofWTFandOMGthrough her. There. That was the part she’d spotted that sounded just too good to be true.
Our associateseven go so far as to search websites for undiscovered talent and during just such a search, your ongoing series on the popular website The Forum caught our interest.
“Okay.So that’s where you got my name. How the devil did you get my contact information?” Sadie made a mental note to send a scathing email to the website that had assured her in their contract that all personal information was kept confidential. These people had really gone all out on this con. She scanned farther down the page.
We are thrilled to offer you representation and are certain you’ll be most delighted to learn that several Broadway affiliates have already expressed interest in your work should you choose to sign with us.
We understandhow this offer might seem a bit “too good to be true” in this devilish age of fraudulence. Therefore, enclosed, you’ll find airfare, hotel accommodations, and a detailed itinerary for this upcoming weekend. We’d like for you to be our guest in New York City for two days of relaxing luxury, then meet with us face to face on Monday to discuss your career and a partnership with DBS Agency.
The letter was signed by Ophelia Throgmorton. Ophelia. Greek name meaninghelp. How fitting.Sadie scrubbed at the eerie tingle zipping across the skin on the back of her neck.
“This is impossible.” She scanned the letter a second time, then thumbed through the first-class airline packet in her name. “I wonder if they’re British. They sound kind like it.”
She ran a finger down the itinerary, growing ever more perplexed and suspicious with every entry she read. Her flight would arrive late Friday night. They’d pick her up, and then the DBS Agency had fully planned out her stay from the moment they scheduled her to open her eyes each morning until the time they turned out her lights and tucked her in at night. “This can’t be happening.”
“What can’t be happening?” Miss Martha nosed in beside her, peering down at the papers with interest. She pulled her reading glasses from the neckline of her blouse and perched them on the end of her nose. “Are those the papers that fancy mail girl brought?”
