Uncovering Sadie's Secrets by Libby Sternberg Read Free Book Online Page B

to talk to about my fears. Mom was scared enough for us already. First off, she’s, well, a mom. So naturally, she’s protective of her brood. But given the fact that my father was killed in the line of duty, she’s probably a little more nervous about us than normal. Talking to Connie or Tony about the incident was out of the question. I mean, they’re my siblings.
    “I’m getting a dedicated line at my office,” Connie said, bringing me back to reality and out of the worry wormhole I had been sucked into.
    “Well, we could use one here, too. What if one of us had an emergency and we called home and the phone line was tied up all night?”
    Connie gave me a look that said “the weather must be nice on the Planet Moron,” then echoed her thought with: “You have my cell phone number. Plus, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re all home now. If you have an emergency, you can just walk over here and tell me.”
    I ignored her sarcasm and finished my scrubbing, dumping the clean saucepan into the dish drainer, drying my hands on a towel, and walking over to the computer.
    “What are you looking for?” I asked, standing behind her as she scrolled through a page heavy with type.
    “Just some information,” she said noncommittally, then looked at me and shrugged as if giving up the fight. “I have a client who suspects one of his employees is cheating on him.”
    “Oh, and he hired you to prove it?”
    “Not exactly. He just wants to get rid of the guy with no fuss, no lawyers digging into his accounts. So I’m just giving the boss enough information to show the employee it’s best to leave of his own accord.”
    The material Connie was perusing, I noticed, was an article on “How to Dismiss a Problem Employee” from an old Business Month magazine. So much for glamorous private eye work.
    You’ve got mail , chirped the computer, and Connie minimized the article to open her email.
    “This is great,” she said, scanning the note. “This will do it!” As she printed out the note, I read it. All it told her was the social security number of one “Herb Bolvane.”
    “How does that ‘do it?’” I asked. “It’s just a number.”
    Connie pointed to the first three digits in the nine-digit number. “It’s much more, my dear. It tells me his place of birth, or at least where he lived the first years of his life. My Mr. Bolvane is a liar.”
    At my perplexed look, she continued her lesson. “See the first three numbers?” She pointed to the screen where Mr. Bolvane’s first three digits read 034. “You can tell from those where the card was issued. Mr. Bolvane’s was issued in Massachusetts—010 through 034 are Massachusetts numbers. But he claimed to his employer he was a lifelong Marylander.” She turned around and started typing a response.
    “How do you know he’s a liar? Maybe his mother got him his card when he was a baby and they were only in Massachusetts a little while,” I said, pleased to think of it.
    “Uh-uh. In Mr. Bolvane’s case, the second two numbers are 00. No Social Security numbers were issued with that as a group number. It’s a fake number. He’s a liar all right.”
    As she typed her note, I left her alone, marveling at the wonders of the private investigator universe and hoping she’d be off the phone line soon in case Sadie was trying to call me. I went upstairs to do my homework.
    It turned out to be a disappointing evening. Connie stayed online for another hour. When I tried to reach Kerrie, she was out buying some school supplies with her Dad, which meant IM’ing her wouldn’t do a bit of good, and Sadie either didn’t call or didn’t bother to leave a message when she did.
    I went to bed feeling lonely, grumpy, and nervous, which I discovered was a surefire way to keep sleep at bay.

    T HE NEXT morning, I was determined to talk to Sadie alone. In spite of my initial misgivings about the girl, I was beginning to feel like she was in some kind of big trouble