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“They got mine too,” I announced. At least I’d carried my phone with me to the meeting.
“We need to check everyone’s for my report,” Len told us.
As if that would do any good. The previous reports hadn’t resulted in anything being returned.
Mark stood above the walls another row over. “I’m fine.”
The guys had it easy in this. They carried their wallets in their pockets.
A few minutes later, the theft statistics stood at six purses. Whoever it was had to work here. Only the women’s cubes had been targeted.
“The thief is one of us if he or she knows the layout,” Len said, ignoring the obvious. We had name plates on our cubes. Even an idiot wouldn’t force Mark’s drawers open, looking for a purse.
“Another reason Krause’s meetings suck,” Kirby lamented as Len filled out his useless paperwork. “Put down that I had three hundred dollars in mine.”
Len nodded. “And yours?” he asked me.
“I don’t know exactly, but I probably had eighty dollars in my wallet.”
The bigger hassle than the money was that I’d have to cancel and replace my credit cards and get a new license and insurance card. I was totally behind Kirby’s sentiment—Krause should have to personally reimburse us.
I sat down and opened the password manager on my phone, to pull out the credit card details I’d stored there.
An hour later, new credit cards were on the way, the old ones canceled, and I was still on hold with the health insurance company to get a new card. That left just my lost keys to deal with. I had spares at the house, but I’d need Adam or Yolanda to let me in.
A text arrived.
ADAM: How are you doing?
ME: Not so good – six purses stolen including mine – again – maybe we should call the FBI
ADAM: I think they have more important things to do
A minute later another message arrived.
ADAM: Wish I could help
“Your boyfriend?” Kirby asked as I checked the message.
“Yeah, he’s sweet.” A week ago, calling a Cartwright sweet would have been cause for me to have a brain scan. This morning, however, the words fit.
“It’s good to see you finally happy.”
As her words rattled around in my head, I realized Adam did make me happy.
“Are you making good progress with this one?” she asked.
“You could call it that.”
Her smile grew. “Good for you. You deserve a break on the dating front. We’ll go to lunch, and you can tell me all about him.”
I was still confined to the building without Adam as an escort. “Sorry, I can’t do lunch. Maybe later.”
She shook her head, and her smile turned down. “You look great. What do you need that stupid diet for?”
I shrugged. “I’m not quitting early just because you tempt me with tasty Indian.”
“Or sushi, or Thai, or Greek, or Italian—”
