Unfashionably Dead

Chapter Fifteen

It seems fitting that "Cold-hearted Bitch" plays overhead as Margaret stares at Adam.

She folds her arms to her chest. "Where's Lanie?"

He glares at her. "What's it to you? It's not like you give a damn about her."

"The same could be said for you." Margaret's attention shifts to her hands. "She was my friend. I don't like that she's hurting. I just want to know that she's okay."

Adam sinks in his seat. "She's in St. Petersburg, at Cheline's mom's condo. I took her there this afternoon."

The words jolt me. My mom, my poor mom. I need to check up on her, find a way to let her know I'm okay, at least in the dead sense of okay. I hate that I'm torn between consoling my loved ones and discovering who was behind my death. It seems like a no brainer: the mother and BFF should win. But I can't take my chances. I have to find out what's happening between these two.

"Can we cut to the chase?" he mutters. "I don't have time for small talk."

Margaret twirls a tendril of hair around her index finger. "Well, since we're cutting to the chase, I'll be blunt. Do you have my money?"

His eyebrows furrow. "I'm not an ATM." His voice is steady.

A waiter slides a glass of sangria in front of Margaret and collects the payment for dinner. Margaret jumps at the interruption as he asks Adam if he'd like to order a drink. Adam declines, and the waiter leaves to deliver drinks to a table of women five feet away.

"I want my money. I invested fifty grand with you. Where is it?" she shrieks.

Adam glances from side to side, as though he is attempting to see if Margaret has garnered an audience. The customers that are nearby seem immersed in their own conversations. The waiter is taking orders at another table. I search for Tony. He's nowhere to be found, but Tonya is talking to another man.

"I invested your money. Do we have to go over the difference between that and having a checking account? I explained during our appointment that you would not have access to the funds for eighteen months." His voice is low.

"And which appointment was that? The one in my bedroom or yours?" Margaret laughs as Adam's eyes meet hers. "I want three thousand dollars."

Adam smirks. "I don't have your money. Believe me, if I could get the $50,000 back and never have to see you again, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, I don't have fifty grand at my disposal, and that's not how investments work."

Margaret's eyes narrow. "Why do the statements say I only have ten thousand?"

Adam rolls his eyes. "The company is using your funds. Right now, they're operating at a loss since they are only in startup. Give it a few more months. As the buyers increase, so will your account. In another year, it'll double, but you must be patient."

Margaret sighs. "It seems...off. My friends who've invested money with you are also losing money."

"I can't discuss other clients with you. I can say that if they invested money with this company, they're losing money right now. Now, if you have a friend who is making money with the same company you're losing money with, then there's a problem. If it's any consolation to you, I'm losing money, too. It's the nature of the business. I'm not worried about it. In another year, I will be."

The waiter hands back the change to Margaret. She removes fifteen dollars and deposits it into her bag. She couldn't have left even a ten per cent tip.

"I still need money."

"Then get a job like a normal person."

Margaret smiles and it actually scares me. In a way, it reminds me of the cat that caught the canary. I have no idea what she's going to do to Adam. The smile is too sinister for it to be anything good. Go, Margaret.