the agility of a cat, Sasha moved to the box and looked inside. As suspected, cushions. If she could maneuver the cushions to the chairs, she could stow away in the box until the cleaning crew left. Listening carefully for sounds from inside the house, she could tell that the women were in the kitchen below. The blare of a radio startled her. She held her breath. The music continued to play as the women kept yakking. She had to move quickly. One cushion. Then the other. Each set on top of a chair.
Sasha folded herself into the box and left the lid slightly cracked so she could breathe. She waited. Almost three hours went by. Her legs were getting numb. Then she heard doors slam and a car start up, followed by the same gravelly sound she had heard earlier. Five minutes more, then she should be free.
Peering out from the box, Sasha did a 180-degree scan of the backyard to make sure it was safe to come out. Once she steadied herself, she climbed out of the box and made a beeline to the patio door. Locked! One of the housekeepers must have done it. It was easy pickin’s but would add another minute or so to her job, and she didn’t know how soon Corbett would return. She still had to get into the office. Time was running out. Myra wanted answers. She and Annie would be in the city in less than two days.
Sasha picked the lock, slid the patio door open, slipped into the master bedroom, and placed one listening device between the bed and the sitting area and another in the enormous closet. She checked it for a safe. None. Then she placed bugs in the upstairs hallway and one in the guest bedroom. After swiftly making her way down the stairs, she placed two devices in the great room; one in the kitchen, near the snack bar; one in the utility room; and a third in the rear entranceway. She then made her way to the den. Sparse. One wall of bookshelves with drawers at the bottom but not many books; a solid piece of wood that served as a desktop, a Tycoon Executive chair, and two side chairs. Sasha went behind the desk and placed a bug near the phone. Landlines were still necessary in some places.
She pulled out one of the drawers at the bottom of the bookcase and grinned. There was a top-open security drawer safe embedded in the wood cabinet. It had a keypad lock. Most people didn’t think about wiping their fingerprints off. Sasha pulled out a little dusting kit and lightly brushed the keypad. Four numbers lit up: six, four, seven, and nine. Now she had to figure out the sequence. She checked his stats. His birthday! June 4, 1979. Ta-da! Mortgage papers for the house, his will, and a deed to a piece of land in Michigan. She snapped photos of the documents, sent them off, then carefully replaced the papers in the same order she had found them. She slid the drawer shut and headed to the rear door. After looking outside to check for any other visitors, she closed the door behind her and made her way back to her bicycle.
It was time to check on the doctor’s office. There was more traffic than there had been earlier as she pedaled her way to the village. Among the upscale shops and cafés was a building with a pristine white, frosted-glass door and the same logo that was displayed at the other offices of Live-Life-Long.
Sasha parked her bicycle at one of the racks across the street from the office. She would pull the same “I’m lost” ruse her colleagues had used. It was the easiest way to plant a listening device. No one ever expected it. When she entered, she noticed the same style, aroma, and sounds the other two had reported. But here, there was only one person sitting behind the counter. Must be a slow day, she thought.
When Sasha pulled off her cap, the hair of her blond wig framed her face. “Hello. I’m sorry to bother you, but could you point me in the direction of the Whaling Museum? I seem to be a little lost.”
“Of course, dear. When you leave the building, stay to your left. At the end of the block, make a left on Main Street. It’s just a ways down.” The woman hardly looked up as she spoke.