“The corporate card statements,” David said, scanning it. “I’m told Priya flagged these on Thursday. Eight Friday nights at the Hampton Suites on Route 161. Four thousand three hundred and ten dollars, coded as ‘client site visits.'”
Priya’s voice was barely audible.
“I should have brought it to you sooner, sir.”
“No,” said David. “You brought it exactly on time.”
“And a charge from Tiffany and Company,” he said, “for two thousand eight hundred and fifty dollars. Coded as ‘client gift.’ On September fourth.”
I did the math before I could stop myself.
September fourth was our twenty-third anniversary.
That night, Carl had texted me that he was stuck at the office, and I had eaten leftover lasagna standing at the counter.
Sheila had gone very pale.
Her fingers rose to the small blue heart at her throat.
“You said,” she began. She stopped. She tried again. “Carl. You told me that was from your bonus.”
