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“I should get going,” I tell her. “I’m supposed to select flowers for the mansion today.”
Daphne makes a gagging noise, like she’s going to vomit, and I laugh.
“Stop it!” I can’t fight my smile. “It’s my job, okay? Being the state’s first lady and all.”
“I know, I know. It just seems so pointless for you. Don’t y’all have volunteers to do that stuff?”
I stand with my purse. “We do, but the public loves to see stuff like that. They like to be reminded we’re regular people too.”
She raises her teacup to me. “To each their own.”
“The mansion will be open to the public on Tuesday, that’s the only reason I’m going.”
“Do you, girl.” She stands with me, seeing me out.
I open the door, but before I go, I ask, “You won’t mind me reaching out to Ricardo so he can work on something for me, will you?”
Her eyes stretch for a fleeting second. Then her head shakes, and she says, “No, I don’t mind. Do what you have to do.”
TWENTY-FOUR
JOLENE
When I’m inside my car, my phone rings in my purse and I dig through it. When I find it, there’s an unknown number on the screen with a location in South Carolina.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hi Mrs. Baker. This is Angelique from Charleston Credit Union.” The woman has a southern accent that’s so thick I almost can’t discern it, but when she says the name of the bank, I light up. I found a point of contact for the South Carolina bank Dominic is having some of the money sent to. They were closed for the weekend, but I sent an email to have someone contact me. “I’m calling because you asked for access to an account?”
“Hi, Angelique. Yes, that’s correct,” I say, pulling out of Daphne’s driveway.
“Okay. I will be able to help you with that. For verification purposes, can you please tell me your date of birth and account number? If you don’t know the account number, I can look it up by your social security number.”
I give Angelique Dominic’s social security number and birthday and within seconds she speaks again. “Are you the spouse of Mr. Dominic Baker?”
“I am.”
“Oh, okay. I’m afraid that I cannot give you access to this bank account, ma’am. There is an internal note stating that the account is private and only to be accessed by Mr. Baker himself and one other person, however this person can only make in-person withdrawals.”
“Who is the other person?” I ask, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Shouldn’t it be me? I’m his wife.”
“I understand that, ma’am, however I cannot give out the account holder’s private information.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter.
“If you would like access, the account holder can add you as a joint member at any time.”
“Angelique, is it possible that I can at least know the name of the person who makes withdrawals in person?”
Angelique hesitates and I push harder.
“Look, I’m not sure if my husband has told you, but the money being deposited into his account originates from one of mine and I did not approve any of these transactions going into your bank. I would hate for your bank to get into any legal trouble because of a minor mishap.”
“I understand, ma’am. Please hold while I connect you to my manager.” The line clicks to bubbly Muzak, and I continue driving, working my jaw.
“This is Hiro Marietti,” a deep voice says after a few minutes tick by. “Am I speaking to the wife of Mr. Dominic Baker?”
“Yes, you are.”
