Steamed

Eric’s debt, my new knowledge was giving me the creeps. The last thing I wanted to do was hang around here with the Raffertys for the rest of the evening.
    I stood in the dining room doorway and stared at the Rafferty family. “I’m so sorry,” I announced. “I’m not feeling well. I think I have to leave. Thank you for dinner.” Pivoting smoothly, I made for the front door.
    Having caught up with me, Sheryl had to rush to keep up. “Chloe? Are you all right?”
    “I’m just feeling sick. Probably all the stress. I need to go home and lie down. Thank you again for dinner.” I barreled out and practically ran to my car.
    I turned the key in the ignition, locked the doors, and sped down Brattle Street. Eric was broke. More than broke. In serious debt. Probably on the verge of bankruptcy. And he was planning to invest in Essence? I’d been convinced that he’d had money to invest. Had he successfully deceived his parents as well? When had Phil and Sheryl Rafferty discovered the truth about the dismal state of Eric’s finances? Had they known all along? Or found out only after his death?
    I fumbled in my purse for my cell phone and called Josh, who picked up almost immediately. I could hear the noise from Magellan’s kitchen in the background.
    “Chloe?” Josh asked.
    “Yeah, I just left dinner.”
    “So you’re okay? I was worried about you. But since you’re all right, did you find out anything useful?” Josh asked over the banging of pots and the sound of running water.
    “Well, they didn’t exactly throw down their forks and confess to killing Eric, but I did find out something interesting. It looks like Eric was broke.”
    “That’s impossible. Eric ate out all the time, he drove a nice car, and he was going to put all that money into Essence. Besides, he bragged about his financial-planning business all the time. He said he could hardly keep up with all his clients.”
    “He may have spent money like he was loaded, but I saw his bank statement at the Raffertys. His account is nearly empty. He could’ve had other bank accounts, but I don’t think so, Josh. There were piles of unpaid bills in his name. His car was going to be repossessed. And he had the biggest credit card bill I’ve ever seen.”
    “His parents told you all this?” To someone in the kitchen, he shouted, “I haven’t boned it yet.”
    “Um, no,” I admitted. “They didn’t tell me. I kind of snooped in their study. Very briefly, though. I didn’t see everything that was there. When I excused myself from the table, I said I had to go to the bathroom, so I didn’t want to stay away too long.”
    “Chloe! What if they’d seen you?”
    “Too late now. I ran out right after that. I said I wasn’t feeling well. Anyway, Eric was broke!”
    “Chloe,” Josh said in disbelief, “do you realize what this means? Eric conned Tim. He never could’ve invested in Essence. Do you think Tim found out?”
    “I have no idea. I haven’t had time to put any of the pieces together. But, hey, don’t say anything to anybody about this yet, okay?”
    “Yeah, sure. Of course not,” Josh agreed. “I’m coming!” Josh hollered away from the mouthpiece. “It’s in the walk-in.” To me, he said, “Listen, I have to go. The kitchen is out of control tonight. I have to work tomorrow, too, actually, because we’ve got another party coming in, but I’m still cooking dinner for you on Monday, right?”
    “Definitely,” I said. “I can’t wait.”
    I sighed and continued my drive home. Cursing chefs’ hours, I went to bed early and slept late. Alone, of course. I spent Sunday working my way through the long list of required readings for school and writing a short paper for my General Practice class. In the paper, I was supposed to address how my newly defined sense of self as a social worker had shifted my thinking, heightened my awareness, and impacted daily interactions with those around me. Impacted daily interactions! That’s a direct quote. Ugh. I turned out four pages of bull in an hour. But I have to admit that as I did the required readings and wrote the paper, it occurred to me that if I d been taking my classes seriously, I could’ve improved the interviewing and information-gathering techniques I’d been using with my... clients. Well, not clients, exactly. In fact, not clients at all. The Raffertys. Anyway, if I’d followed the standard intake format we were being taught in class, I’d have learned