“And you met Mr. Tom.” I pointed back toward the door.
“Yup.” Her head bobbed in acknowledgment.
“Please, have a seat,” I offered, and gestured toward the couch opposite Austin and me.
“Can I get you a refreshment?” Mr. Tom asked.
“Yeah, that would be great,” Fred replied. “Maybe a pop, if you have one? And a little cheese wouldn’t hurt. Everyone has cheese, right? It’s one of the four major food groups.”
“Of course I have it.” He turned on his heel and strode through the door.
“What’s the wig fer?” Niamh asked. “Or is that part of the ensemble?”
“Oh, this?” Fred peeled the fake beard and mustache off her face. “It’s to prevent facial recognition by the eyes in the sky.” She pointed upward. “Cameras.”
“We don’t have cameras posted in this town or in the five surrounding towns,” Austin said. “Your indiscretions in the Dick world do not count against you here.”
“Right?” Fred said. “The Man!” She gave a thumbs-down and then did a raspberry.
“We have a different set of rules in this town than in…most other places in the country,” I said carefully.
“Like the Mafia?” she asked. “No one here dresses like Mafia…”
“Like that but…not as dangerous.” I wiggled my hand. “Mostly. Anyway, we’ll get to that in a bit. I’m curious about something. Why, when you make millions every year, uh…working for yourself,” I said politically, “would you decide to take a job making a fraction of that amount?”
“Well…” She raised a fuzzy eyebrow. “What was your name?”
I flattened a hand to my chest. “Sorry, I’m Jessie. I’m the owner of this house and, along with Austin, Niamh’s boss. I’m the one who would actually be paying you.”
“Hi, Jessie.” She flashed a smile, showing slightly crooked white teeth. “Here’s the deal. I’m sliding down that slippery slope toward middle age, and I’mtiredof all this. I’m tired of hiding. I have to wear scratchy face stuff all the time, dress normally, hunch over when I’m out and about, watch myself in places that have security cameras, keep eyes in the back of my head—I mean, staying out of jail is alotof work. You have no idea. I tried to do nothing for a while because—not to sound boastful—I don’thaveto work anymore. I live frugally, and I’ve made enough money to live off the interest of my investments. But that’s bored me to tears, and I found myself thinking, you know, maybe I could semi-retire. Work for someone else, yeah? I just do what I’m told, have a chat by the water cooler, and keep busy with low stakes.”
“Why the high price tag, then?”
Her smile widened. “Someone willing to pay that much has a great need of my services and respects my talent. Given my past, that person’s need would outweigh the desire to do the right thing and turn me in.”
Made sense.
“And you found Niamh?” I asked.
“She found me, really. I posted on a board that is not totally reputable, we’ll say, and she contacted me. She described this place, and how I’d have to follow the rules here or it’s dangerous, but that my past wouldn’t be a problem. Sounded good. Figured I would check it out. The towns around here are cute, though the people are pretty…serious. The ones without capes, anyway.Alotof muscle. Are you guys a bunch of health nuts or something?” She turned her face a little to side-eye me. “This isn’t a cult, is it? I don’t want to get mixed up in a cult.”
“No, it’s not a cult”—which was just what a cult leader would say, I mused—“but it’s not something you’re probably used to. We do have a great need, and we can pay. Now, honestly, Iama little concerned about your history of theft. There are a lot of valuable items in this house, and it wouldn’t go well for you if you tried to take them.”
“Ah, gotcha.” She nodded knowingly. “Definitely like the Mafia, then. No sweat. I only stole from those other places because they were ripping people off. Screw those guys. I figured they’d get to see how it felt. Then it became a game, then a challenge as they got better. But now…yeah. Like I said, I’m worn out, and I’d rather not bother with any of that. Clean slate without going to jail, like Niamh said.”
It turned out I had a lot more questions than I’d originally thought. “But you’re still okay with a challenge?”
Her face lit up as Mr. Tom came in with drinks. “Ilovea challenge! I love puzzles, and Niamh said you’d have no end of them for me. That I’d be taking on worse than those companies, and people around here didn’t go to the cops for stuff.” She put her finger to the side of her nose. “Fits me right down to the ground. I love cracking open impenetrable firewalls and peering inside.”
I looked at Austin. She sounded fine to me. It probably wouldn’t be hard to keep her in line, and Niamh surely thought she could keep the woman busy and entertained. The magical aspect of all this, though…
“Is that normal attire, then?” Niamh asked without expression.
“This?” Fred petted the head of the fox. “Are you kidding? No! This is fun attire. I wouldn’t go out like this normally, but—well, you already have my info, and half the town walks around in capes. I figured I had some artistic license.”
“And Fred is not your real name,” I surmised. “You could be anybody.”
“No, my real name is Wilma. Wilma Rebecca Foster. I don’t mind my last name, or even my middle name so much, even though it’s boring. ButWilma? I’m not a Wilma. I could be a Fred, though,” she said. “The name Fred has personality. I figure my birth name is for my mom. She likes it, she has terrible taste in names, but she gave me life, so she can call me Wilma. It’s not like she could ask for my opinion at the time. But now that I’m older, I should be able to pick my own name, right? So I did.”
