CHAPTER ONE
Please don’t let this be a big hairy spider.
Please don’t let this be a big hairy spider.
With a deep breath I stick my hand in the hole in the drywall, making slow progress. The palm of my hand disappears until I no longer make out even an outline in the shadows. I stop and squint to get a better look, twisting my fingers.
“What the fark?”
I rip my hand from the hole and drop the green mushy stack. It falls to the floor with a squishy splat.
It’s…money.
A large stack of fifty-dollar bills is secured together by an orange band of paper in the middle. Bands like the kind banks use to keep money together. Using a single finger, I tip the stack over. The edges are wet and… well mushy. Like sitting in the wall behind an oven caused the money to deteriorate.
My hand goes back in the hole, no longer concerned about spiders. There are probably some back there, but the prospect of money outweighs my fear. It takes three more trips back and forth. The last two stacks are farther away from where the oven sat against the wall so their condition is pristine. When I’m finished I line them all up behind my prep counter, creating a large pyramid of money, and sit back.
I should’ve seen this coming. The realtor told me the building was special. I never considered she meant I’d find one hundred grand in a wall behind my old, outdated oven. Yet, here I sit, in the kitchen of my new bakery with — I do a quick count of the stacks of bills in my pyramid — fifteen stacks of wrapped fifty and hundred-dollar bills.
To be fair I’m not sure it’s one hundred grand. I’ve never seen that much money, but there’s a hefty stack of green stuff in front of me. Much heavier than the so aptly named candy bar.
I’d dreamed of owning a bakery and after years of being told I couldn’t, one generous tip last Christmas helped make it a reality. At the time I had no idea I’d end up on the other side of the country in another small coastal town. It was unexpected, but so far, it’s working for me.
I eye the money cautiously, grab two stacks off the top and wave them in my hands. There must be a reason it was stacked in a hollowed out space and I can’t imagine it’s a good one. On the other hand, I’m quickly running out of my own funds. The fifteen thousand I started this venture with — most I saved up over the years — has drained away faster than water flows over Niagara Falls.
“Are we out of cupcakes?” Tabitha calls out from the front of the bakery. I toss the two stacks of money I’m holding into a cupboard at the bottom of the kitchen island and stand as she backs through the double swinging doors.
“Holy shit, Nessa. Do you know there’s a stack of money on your floor?”
“Um…”
Tabitha clears the space between us in three giant steps. “Where did it come from? Who does it belong to? What’s it doing here?”
“The wall?” I swing my gaze to the large gaping hole where there’s normally a stove. I have been waiting on a new one to be delivered for over three weeks. The delivery service promised me it would be here today.
“What? You stuck your hand in a random hole to see what you’d find?” Tabitha asks like it’s no big deal, but the look she gives me implies she thinks I’m crazy. Her dark brown hair is pulled up in a messy bun and her dull grey eyes are wide in shock.
I can’t say much to defend myself. “I pulled out the oven. I wanted to clean up before the new delivery.” I point to the large green oven a few inches from my pile in case she missed the lumbering beast when she walked in.
“You have to have at least two hundred grand here.” Tabitha grabs a few stacks of money and throws them on the counter, the bills spreading out when the paper ribbon breaks.
“Two hundred grand? How do you know?”
Tabitha pulls the rest of the money from the floor and lines it up on the table. “Crazy ex-boyfriend, remember?”
Ahhh. She doesn’t need to say more. It’s barely been a month since she and Bennett were released from the hospital after Tabitha’s ex-boyfriend followed her to Pelican Bay to exact revenge. She’s been a little loose on the details, but Katy and I have put together most of the story. Ex-boyfriend, stolen money, drugs, and your everyday mafia connection. Not much happens in Pelican Bay, so the local newspaper covered it extensively. And so did Pearl’s nightly phone tree.
“Why is some of it wet?” she asks lining up the rest of the bills into two long rows.
“I don’t know, Tabitha!” I tuck a strand of brown hair back into my ponytail and resist the urge to yell.
“Okay, calm down.” She switches to her inside voice, probably sensing I’m on the verge of a meltdown. “So this is your money?”
“No!”
“You don’t know where you came from?”
“I told you. The wall.” Do I look like the type of person who hides a crap load of money in a wall behind an oven?
