“Sorry, he’s rubbing off on me. I’m pretty sure he’s probably on his way here.”
“Marcus, too. He’s not happy about us taking this case.”
“You told him?”
“I had no choice. He heard us talking last night and knew.”
“He was there last night?”
“I made us dinner.”
“Sounds pretty domestic.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” She gets a dreamy look on her face I know all too well.
“You’ve got it bad.” I repeat her words from the night she interrupted my first date with Walker.
She raises her eyebrows and gets out of the car.
Tonight’s Trixsters assignment is fairly simple. It’s also a little out of our normal cases. We’ve been asked by a mother to investigate her son’s new girlfriend. This mother, Ellen, is concerned her widowed son, Paul, is being scammed. It’s been six months since his wife passed away, and a few weeks ago, he mentioned meeting a woman named Della.
According to Ellen, the relationship seems to be moving lightning fast, especially for a middle-aged man who has money. Paul has mentioned moving Della into his home and building a life with her, which is concerning.
At first, Maren and I were skeptical to get involved because it seemed like a nosy mom being overly suspicious and a huge family nightmare. But Ellen sent an e
mail that helped change our minds
Ellen said she did some digging, and Della is bad news. She’s convinced the woman is a gold digger and after her son’s money, and he’s falling for her out of loneliness. She described Paul as heart-broken. He was with his wife since high school. She was the love of his life.
Maren and I made no promises but requested a little more information on Della, so we could do our own search. We found that most of what she’s told Paul is a lie. She’s definitely a scam artist looking for a sugar daddy, and she’s smart about it.
When we saw the similarities to the Ricky Sharp case, we agreed to help Ellen. Della targets men and exploits their weakness. In the last three years, she’s broken up two marriages. A thorough scan of her email and bank accounts show she is spoiled by her men, but once their wives discovered the affair and filed for divorce, the money stopped.
Being the heartless home wrecker that she is, she broke things off immediately. We assume she decided married men were too much hassle, so she shifted her focus to widowers.
Unlike Ricky, she didn’t use dating sites to find her next victim. She did something worse; she started attending grief support meetings under the lie that she lost her mom. When Maren hacked into her IP address, she found daily searches on obituaries going back months. There was an entire search history on Paul, his company, his family, and his net worth.
Tonight, she is meeting some girlfriends for drinks at this little dive bar, and her email said she was looking to ‘get properly laid’.
All we need to do is hang out and hope she gives us the proof we need that she’s not the sweet, caring, grieving woman she’s led Paul to believe.
She and her friends are easy to spot once we’re inside. Della is clearly recognizable from the picture Ellen sent. Her blonde hair is sleek and shiny, falling midway down her back. The black dress molds to her body, and her enormous boobs are popping out. She’s a bombshell, and her friends are equally as gorgeous. These women are on the prowl, and from the looks of the men staring at them, they’ll have no problems.
Like always, Maren and I sit at the bar for the best view. Della and her friends throw back drink after drink, and when the band starts, they are the first ones to the dance floor.
One by one, men approach them and they pair off. For over an hour, they stay this way, only taking a break from dancing to come back to their table for a refill.
“I get the feeling she knows the man she’s dancing with,” Maren points out.
“Me too, there’s a level of familiarity and comfort there.” Right as I say it, the man grabs Della’s ass, grinding his hips furiously into her, and starts to kiss her.
Maren uses one of our new pen gadgets to snap pictures. The band takes a break, and everyone leaves the dance floor, Della and her man holding hands.
“We should order another drink. Things look like they’re about to get interesting.” I turn back to the bar.
“Drinks are on me.” The unmistakable husky voice comes from behind me. Goosebumps break out on my arms as I whip around to find Walker and Marcus.
“You’re here,” I stupidly point out.