“No. I didn’t make that purchase,” Jane said.
Jane rested her head in her hand while talking to the bank. She had tied her brown hair in a French braid and wore a gray pant suit with a white blouse. Between her business fashion and my Stella McCartney outfit, we looked stylish today.
I leaned in the doorway, listening to her phone conversation. Deputy Underwood occupied the other chair in the office. He silently read a printout sheet of Jane’s recent “supposed” purchase history while tapping on his phone’s calculator. Earlier, Jane had highlighted the ones she didn’t make. There was a decent number of pink lines.
Meanwhile, Butterscotch sat on the filing cabinet, glaring at boss lady. Once Underwood left, I would have to warn Jane that there might be a hair ball on her chair; a cat’s re
