Alexis had been kind enough to send a carelessly sketched map so I could find my way around in her very large, very foreign house. I took one more look over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't being watched, then made my way up a partially walled, carpeted staircase that squeaked lightly under the weight of my feet. Every cautious step I took made my heart race that much faster. The wood underneath tried to betray my every step.

         Squeak, squeak, squeak...

          Surely the whole house could hear me, but then again, the woman causing a scene in the garden was probably all anyone cared about. If I was down there, that's where my attention would be. I doubled my pace and skipped up the last few steps.

          Upstairs, the walls were a glistening off-white that absorbed the rays of sunlight streaming through wide opened curtains. Abstract paintings of black figures dancing hung perfectly spaced on the walls. A crescent console table was positioned neatly between two doors; in the center was a bronze bust of a boy that was reminiscent of Augusta Savage's work—or maybe the real thing...They could certainly afford it...

          Wait a minute! Focus, Evie! You're here for a job, not to muse over the furniture.

         I moved on slowly, keeping my eyes and ears open and my tongue ready with an excuse about getting lost should someone discover me. According to my poorly drawn map, there were seven bedrooms on the second floor. Originally there was one for Diana, one for each child, one used as Diana's office, and one guest.

          Malik had moved out after college as had Destiny once she'd married her ex—but now she was back with her two children in tow. Gabe came in and out depending on if he was at rock bottom that week or not, and Alexis being the youngest, had never left. I pulled up my phone and opened the attachment with Alexis's map. Her messy handwriting had labelled each rudimentary square representing the rooms and who they belonged to:

          Diana, Corrine, Me, the kids, Gabe, Este, and Destiny.

          Diana, Destiny, and Gabe were self-explanatory, 'Me' was Alexis, and the kids were Destiny's kids. The name Corrine sounds familiar but I'm drawing a blank.

          Who the hell is Este?

          Whoever they were they weren't the target, so I followed the map and strode into the third room on the left from the staircase, per Alexis's instructions, and closed the thick hickory door behind me.

          Inside was a bedroom furnished with the impeccable eye of a master decorator. Everything from the million-count comforter on the bed to the drapes to the rug were designed to be cohesive. In fact, said comforter, rug, and drapes were all the same matching gray and silver flower pattern. How do you even do that? Did they sell the rug and the comforter together? Was it all specialty made? My ass couldn't even match two out of two pillowcases on my bed at any one time and they came in sets of two—never mind the damn curtains! I shook the thoughts from my head. I need to stop gawking and get to work before I get caught.

          I took an extra five seconds to text Alice before I got down to business.

I'm upstairs. Text if someone comes back inside.

          She sent back a thumbs up emoji and I put the phone away and looked around. If I were an ugly necklace where would I be? Across the room and opposite to the bed was a gray and silver vanity.

          On top of the silk lined table was a gem encrusted jewelry box. On top of that, was all the jewelry. Either she struggled to match the right pieces to her outfit today or she's messy as all hell. I shifted through a tangle of necklaces and earrings that were probably worth more than my and Alice's wardrobes combined. Pearls, diamonds, sapphires, and gold knotted together in a sort of twinkling metal bird's nest. Some of them were kind of cute, I think. It was hard to tell through the jumble. None of them looked like a hideous pearl and diamond eye-sore, though.

          When I didn't find it in the vanity, I checked through her drawers, in her closet, and even under the massive folds of her bed. Nothing. I even stomped around a bit trying to find a loose floorboard, but why would a floorboard be loose in a house like this? This isn't a movie about impoverished peasants hiding their magic bean money under the floor. They're rich, they probably use safes. But I did warn Alexis that I'd probably come up empty-handed so it's no sweat off my .

          I gave Destiny's bedroom one more quick sweep then left. Maybe she was smarter than her sister gave her credit for. My guess was this valuable family heirloom was either in a safe-deposit box or already sold to a jeweler.

          Welp, job done. All that's left to do is sneak back downstairs, enjoy some more apple tarts, get my check, and mosey on back to my side of town. Easy-peasy.

          As I snuck back down the hall, mentally preparing my thesis about the necklace's whereabouts to Alexis, I spotted another door. According to Alexis and her badly drawn map (hey, everybody can't be Johnny) that was the room Destiny's children were sharing.

          Would she hide it in the children's room?

           It's a long shot...but better to be thorough.

          I slipped inside the door and closed it. When I turned around, I was momentarily shocked. The room was as large as Destiny's, though in place of a queen-sized bed was a twin bed shaped like a fairy tale castle on one side of the room and a twin shaped like a sports car on the other side. The rest of the room was a tribute to childhood whimsy. Every toy my parents couldn't afford was present and accounted for. A pile of RC cars, Lego sets, a play kitchen that looked like it was really made out of steel, an entertainment center with what looked like every console on the market, a bookcase with enough books to fill the kid's section at the public library, a fucking rocking horse that was a rainbow unicorn—more toys than any child could ever play with in any single childhood! The back wall had been professionally painted to represent a scene from a children's storybook. Even the overhead light was inexplicably shaped like a carousel.

          Why? It was such a waste of money. A pointless display of the gaudy materialism. Rich or not, you won't ever catch me spoiling my kids like this. I'll teach my kids the value of a dollar. Mama works hard for her money. It was so garish, so tacky, so...cool! I want to live here...

          In the corner, the piece de resistance, was a massive five-foot-tall fiberboard doll house built right into the wall. I restrained a spontaneous sqwee and skipped over for a closer look. Dolls had been my favorite toy as a child. I'd had a Barbie Dream house, but nothing like this. This shit had little carpets and little metal sinks and teeny tiny teapots and silverware. I would have loved to have a dollhouse like this! I would have killed for a dollhouse like this!

          A switch had been built onto the wall right next to it. I flipped it and the teeny tiny chandelier lit up the dining room.

          It has electricity! I want one! I've never wanted anything more in my whole life!

          I had to calm my childish heart and remind myself that I am twenty-eight not eight and it would be unreasonable for me to buy or build this no matter how fabulous. As I was formulating a backup plan to simply have a daughter, build her the house, and then play with it while she's asleep or whatever I remembered I was here for a job.

          I flipped the light off and went back to looking for the tacky necklace with a mild pout on my lips. I searched everywhere a piece of valuable jewelry could be hidden but turned up empty handed. After I left the children's room, I went to check Gabe's room because at this point, fuck it, might as well go through everybody's shit.

          Gabe's room was much like Destiny's but more chaotic and smelling like warmed over shit. The color scheme had changed as well. The curtains, rug, and comforter were a geometric pattern of blues and whites instead of silver and gray.

          Clothes littered the floor in various little piles and the bed was unmade. The curtains were drawn tight and the trash can was overflowing. I didn't want to spend much time in funky town, so I gave his room a quick sweep—mostly at a vanity full of Rolexes—and got the hell out of there.

          As I was closing his door, I made the choice to check Alexis's room while I was at it. Not that I thought she was up to something, but it wouldn't be the first time a client lied to manipulate me into doing something they know I wouldn't agree to. Why she would lie about a necklace, I can't say but better safe than sorry, so I followed my map and entered her room as slyly as a fox.

          After the third magnificently designed, impeccably tailored room, it was starting to get less impressive. Like the first time you enter the honeymoon suite at a five-star hotel after living all your life in the Motel Six...eventually you realize all the rooms on this floor look more or less the same. Another color change saw this room bathed in earth tones. Lots of browns and tans accented with green. It was the neatest room by far though a pile of neatly hanger-ed dresses was draped over the bed.

          I gave her room a quick run over, searching the drawers, the end tables, the closet, and under the covers of her bed.

          When I found nothing, I left and started the trek back to the gardens. The job was done and there was nothing more I could contribute and no more nosiness to be had. Best to get back to the party before my absence was noticed.

          At the top of the stairs I looked back over my shoulder and down the empty hall. At the opposite end the grand oak door of the master suite stared back at me.

          The necklace couldn't be in Diana's room. That's exactly where it was supposed to be. So, you see, there's no reason for me to go in there. None at all. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

          Then again...what if it is in there? What if this is some elaborate game, they've got me playing? What if I miss the chance to experience my hero's bedroom...and, like, find a necklace or whatever?

          My feet were moving before my mind was clearly made up. I walked quickly, ignoring the noise my feet were making in favor of getting in and out. With that in mind, I wasted no time agonizing over the ethics and let myself in.

         The first thing of note was the size of it. It dwarfed the other bedrooms by at least a couple hundred extra square feet. The colors were cream and gold. A large picture window offered a spectacular view of the garden below and the river beyond. The master bath was bigger than my living room. My eyes went wide with exuberance.

          I was in the bedroom of greatness. Every night Diana Dupont rest her brilliant head on these fabulous down pillows. Every morning she woke to fix her face and do her hair at the glamorous luxury vanity. I wanted to sit at that vanity so bad, but I couldn't afford to get comfortable. Instead I went through her jewelry. I was pleased to find that every piece wasn't some million-dollar statement. Many of them were more down to earth pieces you could get for a couple hundred at the mall.

          Still wasn't as down to earth as me, though. Glamour to me was the forty-dollar owl pendant I wore around my neck, but still. The heirloom—the reason I convinced myself I was in there—was AWOL as expected. I looked around some more telling myself I was working when deep down I was imagining myself living in the splendor of this room. Waking in a king-size bed. Opening the curtain—no, having my maid open the curtains for me! Bathing in the walk in multi jet glass shower. Taking my meals on the veranda under an ivy-covered trellis.

          Would I ever be this rich? Statistically it was improbable, but improbable was not impossible...Not when you had dreams! And a plucky attitude. And a stellar work ethic. And probably some good connections. And a bank willing to give you loans out the ass. And some luck, I guess.

          You know, maybe I should just win the lottery while I'm at it.

          As I was in the middle of a wealth fantasy, pondering whether I'd be waking up next to Manny in the king size bed, I was jolted back to reality by a text on my cell. I whipped it out and read Alice's alert:

          SOS Someone went up the stairs!!!

          As soon as I read it, I heard footsteps growing closer on the other side of the door. I stuffed my phone back in my purse and dropped to the floor. Using muscles I forgot I had, I shimmied my way under the bed. The squeeze was tight, so I had to press my cheek against the hardwood and pry myself under with the metal bed frame. When my hand braced against the floor the other end of the corresponding floorboard flew up in response. I gasped a little too loudly and moved my hand. The floorboards slipped back together just as the knob turned. I held my breath and froze.

          The door creaked open and soft footsteps entered.

          The interloper slinked their way across the floor deftly—like they'd been in this room a thousand times. I softly lowered my head to the floor to try and get a better look. I couldn't see above the ankle, but they wore clean white sneakers as they stopped in front of the vanity. Who wears sneakers to a funeral? Off brand too, in this crowd? Someone who's working.

          Couldn't be the caterers because all of them had dressed head to toe in black. Plus, what business would they have upstairs? That meant it was undoubtedly the maid.

          There was a shuffling of a lot of somethings hard and tiny. Was she searching the jewelry box? She walked to the right and started rifling through the drawers. She opened each with a nervous jerky haste before I heard the tell-tale rustling of clothes. When she was done, she closed the last one and pranced my way. I broke into a cold sweat for no reason, as she was going for the side table. She pulled open the lone drawer and continued her search. When she was done, she walked around the bed and searched the other table.

          What was she looking for? The necklace?

          My eyes drifted down to where my hand lay balled up on top of the loose floorboard. Does she want whatever's in there? More important question: What do I say if she finds me down here? Got lost on my way to the bathroom? Looking for more apple tarts? I'm more drunk than Gabe, where am I?

          I'm fucked...but then again, I'm not the only one sneaking around here...

          Okay, okay! I got it! If she tries to check under the bed, I pop out and accuse her before she can accuse me. Oh! I know! I make a deal to keep my mouth shut if she keeps her mouth shut! That'll work, right?

          Wrong! Think! And think quick.

          My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps marching our way. I would've turned my head but my hair would have rustled across the floor so I froze and waited.

          "Did you find it?" That was nobody but Destiny Dupont. She slinked her way to the center of the room so she could be heard at a whisper. Though how neither of them could hear my heart beating like a steel drum was beyond me.

          "No, ma'am." Said the maid.

          Destiny sighed with contempt and turned. "You can try to find it later. I need you downstairs."

          "Yes, ma'am."

          The sound of their feet retreating was more heavenly than a choir of angels to me. I didn't take my first full breath until I heard the door lock back into place.

          I pushed against the floor but didn't move. Stuck! I struggled, sandwiched between a bed that wouldn't give and a floor that definitely wasn't moving. As the panic washed over me, I almost broke and called for help, but then I remembered the last time I was stuck under a bed.

          Twenty years ago, aged seven, while playing hide-and-seek with this random-ass neighborhood kid. He'd looked for me for all of five minutes before giving up and going back outside to the cookout to eat by himself. Didn't bother to tell me he'd stopped looking. I was under there for ten minutes before I tried to come out, then I struggled for another three minutes while screaming and crying. I didn't fuck with that random-ass kid anymore after that—but that's not the point. How did I get out?

          Oh, yeah. I basically flopped like a fish in the jaws of a bear until I was able to unwedge myself. Never hid under a bed again—except for today. You'd think I'd learn.

          Digging deep for a last burst of energy I was able to pry my ass out of the tight squeeze with no damage but a scraped shin and some pulled hair. That'll teach me to wear it loose. I took some deep breaths once I was out and prepared to sprint out of there when I remembered the floorboard.

          At this point, none of what was going on with Destiny and the maid was my business. I'd done my job. That was it. But...the curiosity was overwhelming...and I was already so deep. It took a couple of tries but I managed to pop it open with a little pressure from the heel of my hand. Inside the floorboard cubby was a wooden keepsake box with an iron latch.

         Sitting there crossed legged on the floor, I opened the box. If I was expecting the necklace, I was sorely disappointed. There was nothing inside the box but stacks of paper. On the very top was a folded square of lined notebook paper. I opened it and looked over the sloppy cursive handwriting.

                                                     Alexis,

                                                          If you're reading this I'm dead.

          I read that line twice more just to be sure but every time the words were the same. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and pressed on.

I can't say much. They keep me drugged. This is the first moment of clarity I've had in weeks. The government is watching. They've bugged the house. They've bugged the office. They want my money. They want to destroy my legacy. They want to kill my children. They want to harvest my organs for the elite.

I've made a lot of mistakes. It's too late for me but know I died of sound mind and body. I was not sick. They murdered me. Trust no one.

          And at the bottom in chaotic cursive was a single signature:

Diana Dupont

          Underneath the letter was an overstuffed manila envelope and what looked like a passport. I flipped it open and found a picture of a middle-aged lady with dark skin and eyes. Place of Birth: Port-au-Prince, Haiti. The name read Este Charles.

          Port-au-Prince? The maid.

          Why is her passport in this box? Did Diana think she killed her? Is it a clue? Why not write her name? And what was that about the government? I'm not saying a government conspiracy is out of the question but even a multi-millionaire they didn't make the kind of money to warrant the feds. Unless the gains were ill gotten? That doesn't seem likely.

          I put the passport back and grabbed the envelope. The papers crammed inside were folded at an odd angle. Once I got the stack free, I unfolded it and read the first line of the first page.

Last Will and Testament of Diana S. Dupont.

          A copy of the will? Why? I had a plethora of unanswered questions, but the situation was precarious, so I put everything back in the box before pushing off the ground and heading for the door.

          With the box tucked neatly under my left arm I grabbed the knob. I paused trying to listen for any movement on the other side of the door but heard nothing or at least I think it was nothing. I was unsure but I opened it anyway and stepped out into the empty hall. The house was silent as I hurried back toward the garden.