“I’ll pour, you change.”
“Deal,” Dylan said, and pushed herself off the floor.
“Wait! Not so fast,” I said, blocking her escape.“I’ve been meaning to ask you about something. What were you hiding from Jake today?”
“Hiding?” she asked, looking genuinely confused.
“Yes, when he asked you about the spreadsheet.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh. Oh!” She put a finger to her lips. “Nothing. I had something in my eye.” Her eyelids started fluttering, like she was trying to pull that crap on me now.
“Are you... winking at me?” I asked,completely confused. “Who winks?” Clearly not Dylan, because she sucked at it.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, grabbing my arm and tugging me toward her bedroom.
She docked her phone, connecting it to the custom surround sound I’d installed in each of the two master bedrooms. She hit play and cranked up the volume. Pink’s song “Like a Pill” blared. Pink was probably the one artist Dylan andI agreed on, but I had no clue why she was playing it so loud.
“What the hell...?”
Dylan grabbed her dragon snow globe (typical nerd girl accessory) and pried off the bottom, holding up a flash drive between her fingers. “What’s that?”
“It’s on the roof,” she whispered. Or at least that’s what it looked like, since I couldn’t hear her.
“What?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes and grabbed myshoulders, pulling me closer. “It’s the proof,” she whispered louder.
“Of?”
“Melting wagons.”
“Ohmigod,” I exclaimed, and turned down the music. “Why are you whispering with the music on eleven?”
“Because of the detail.”
“The detail Jake put on us?” I asked, wishing she’d start making sense.
She gave me another eye roll. “Yeah. They’re probably listening in on our conversation.”
“Dylan,that’s ridiculous.”
“No, it’s not. Do you have any idea how many mobsters the fuzz have brought down through wires? We’re probably bugged,” she said.
“Mobsters? The fuzz? Dylan, you have got to stop reading mafia novels.”
“Hey! Some of those are non-fiction.”
I let out a quiet snort. “Nobody’s bugging us.”
“I wouldn’t put it past your sexy detective.”
I gasped. “Do you really think he’dput listening devices in my house?” I whispered.
She shrugged. “He’s got a job to do.”
“Well, two can play at this game.” I marched into my office, grabbed my laptop, and Google’d listening device detectors.
“What are you doing?” Dylan asked.
“I’m going to buy something that will tell us once and for all if we have pests.”
“You can’t disable their bugs. That’ll just make me look guilty,”Dylan said, plucking my hands from the keys.
Frustrated, I asked, “Then how are we supposed to communicate?”
Dylan grabbed a notepad and a pen from my desk and wrote, “Like this.”
Have I mentioned how brilliant my bestie is? I was about to tell her as much when she popped her flash drive into my laptop and took over the mouse. She opened a folder and double-clicked on a file. Then she swore.Loudly.
