Page 14 of Once Upon a Lie

“Mail is delivered at three p.m. sharp, except Sundays. Anything uncollected after forty-eight hours gets reported to me for follow-up.”

“Okay . . .” I furrow my brow. “And what if I’m on . . . say . . . vacation when the mail gets delivered?”

“Then I expect you to make arrangements with a neighbor to keep your mailbox clean or file a hold mail request with the USPS.”

I take it back—Rita might be worse than the CIA.

“Each floor has a trash chute,” she continues. “Please use it properly. Bags must be fully sealed and no larger than fifteen gallons. Someone on the third floor once shoved an entire pizza box down there, and we had to call maintenance.”

“Sounds traumatic.”

“Oh, it was,” she agrees, taking herself so seriously it’s hilarious. “Recycling is separate, of course. And if the chute gets clogged again, I will personally find whoever did it and make them unclog it. Also, I will give them a violation. Three violations in a month, per the HOA rules, you can be removed from the building.”

She flips another page. “And this is new. We’ve implemented a chore board in the lobby. It lists monthly community responsibilities. Everyone takes turns wiping down the mailboxes, cleaning the gym mirrors, watering the lobby plants, and so forth. It builds camaraderie.”

“Sounds like boot camp for HOA members.”

“Are you making this out to be some kind of joke, Mr. Maddox?”

“Of course not,” I say, internally laughing my ass off. “I’d never joke about clogged trash chutes or clean gym equipment. Sanitation is important.”

“Good.” Her eyes narrow a fraction. “And we prefer to think of the chore board as something that builds community excellence. You’ll find your name on the board tomorrow morning.”

“Mm-hmm.” I nod, but at this point, I don’t know what the fuck she’s saying anymore.

“Okay, Mr. Maddox. Well, I have to run. My husband, Ken . . .” She pauses, and her face lights up into a big, proud smile. “Ken Fortune of Ken Fortune Heating and Cooling . . . maybe you’ve seen our trucks?”

“Oh yeah, of course,” I lie. “I think my buddy uses them.”

“It would make sense. Ken’s company is very popular in the Nashville area. A real go-to around here for everyone’s heating and cooling needs. He’s also a helicopter pilot. Very talented, my husband,” she gushes. “Anyhoo, he’s waiting downstairs for me. It’s rare he gets to take a lunch break during the workweek with how busy his company always is, so I better hurry.”

“Oh yeah, you shouldn’t keep him waiting. Sounds like a very important guy.”

“Oh yes, dear. Very important.” She nods. “I’ll try to introduce you to him soon, okay? Can’t make any promises, though.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” I say, lying through my fucking teeth with a smile. I even hold up my crossed fingers to punctuate that statement.

She shoves the big binder into my chest. “Keep this somewhere safe.”

“I’ll probably buy a locked, fireproof safe just to ensure nothing happens to it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good plan, Mr. Maddox.” She frowns. “You need to be able to access it at all times.”

How about my asshole, Rita? Would that be a good place? I joke to myself.

“Good thinking,” I say instead.

HOA Rita starts down the hall toward the elevator, and I start to head back inside my apartment until I hear the words, “Oh, Valentina! Hold the door for me!”

Instantly, I peek back out my door toward the elevator. Standing inside the car, holding a box of flowers, gardening gloves, and a set of keys, is my mark.

Valentina Cordone.

She’s smaller than I expected from the photos in her file. Her dark hair is pulled up, and soft strands fall loosely around her face. Her shoulders are bare, and she has on a light-purple dress with matching shoes.

She doesn’t see me, but she sees Rita and smiles. It’s a warm, friendly, easy kind of smile that tells me she means it. “Good afternoon, Rita,” she greets her.

Rita mumbles a reply I can’t hear, stepping into the elevator.