Trish eyed Callie suspiciously. “We could never qualify for that type of unsecured credit.”
“This wouldn’t be a conventional loan,” said Callie, getting to her favorite part of the story. “It’s what I call a Rumplestilskin Loan.”
Trish’s voice grew sharp. “You’re mocking us. Look, Ms…”
“Carpenter.”
“…I don’t particularly care for your sense of humor. Or your personal assessment of our marriage.”
“You think I’m playing with you?” Callie opened her briefcase, spun it around to face them.
Rob’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Holy shit!” he said. “Is that a hundred grand?”
“It is.”
“This is ridiculous,” Trish said. “How could we possibly pay that back?”
“It’s not so much a loan as it is a social experiment,” Callie said. “The millionaire I represent will donate up to one hundred thousand dollars to any person I deem worthy, with one stipulation.”
“What’s that?” Rob said.
Trish’s lips curled into a sneer. She spoke the word with contempt. “Rumplestilskin.”
Callie nodded.
Rob said, “Rumple—whatever you’re saying, what’s it mean?”
Trish said, “The fairy tale. She wants our first born unless we can guess the name of her boss.”
“What?” Rob said. “That’s crazy. We’re not even pregnant.”
Callie laughed. “Trish, you’re right about there being a catch. But it has nothing to do with naming a gnome or giving up future children.”
“Then what, you want us to rob a bank for you? Kill someone?”
Callie shook her head.
“So what’s the catch?” Trish said.
“If you accept the contents of this suitcase,” Callie said, “someone will die.”
Trish said, “All right, that’s enough. This is obviously some type of TV show, but it’s the cruelest way to punk someone I’ve ever seen. Here’s an idea for the next one: get a normal-looking woman instead of a beautiful model. And don’t use all the flowery New Age language. Who’s going to buy that bullshit? Okay, so where’s the camera—in the suitcase?”
The suitcase.
From the moment Callie lifted the lid, Rob had been transfixed. He’d finally found something more compelling to stare at than Callie’s chest. Even now he couldn’t take his eyes off the cash. “Do we get some sort of fee if you put this on TV?”
Callie shook her head. “Sorry, no TV, no hidden cameras.”
“Then it doesn’t make sense.”
“Like I said, it’s a social experiment. My boss is fed up with the criminal justice system in this country. He’s tired of seeing murderers set free due to sloppy police work, slick attorneys, and stupid jurors. So, like a vigilante, he goes after murderers who remain unpunished. He feels he’s doing society a favor. But society loses when any person dies, no matter how evil, so my boss wants to pay something forward for the life he takes.”
“That’s a crock of shit,” Trish said. “If he really believed that, he’d pay the victims’ families instead of total strangers.”
“Too risky. The police could establish a pattern. So my boss does the next best thing, he helps anonymous members of society. Each time my boss kills a murderer he pays society up to one hundred thousand dollars. And today you get to be society.”
Trish was about to comment, but Rob got there first. He was definitely getting more intrigued. “Why us?”
“A loan officer forwarded your application to my boss and said you were decent people, about to lose everything.”
Trish said, “You represented yourself as a loan officer.”
“I did.”
“And you’re not.”
“I’m a different type of loan officer.”
“And what type is that?”
“The type that brings cash to the table,” Callie said.
“In a suitcase,” Trish said.
Trish looked at the cash as if seeing the possibilities for the first time. She said, “If what you’re saying is true, and your boss is paying all this money to benefit society, why tell us about the killing at all? Why not just pay us?”
“He thinks it’s only fair that you know where the money comes from and why it’s being paid.”
Rob and Trish digested this information without speaking, but their expressions spoke volumes. Rob, thinking this could be his big chance in life, Trish, dissecting the details, trying to allow herself to believe. This was a family in crisis, Callie knew, and she had just thrown them the mother of all lifelines.
Finally Trish said, “These murderers you speak of. Is your boss going to kill them anyway?”
“Yes. But not until the money is paid.”
“And if we refuse to accept it?”
“No problem. I’ll ask the next family on my list.”
Rob said, “The person your boss is going to kill—is there any possibility it’s someone we know?”
“You know any murderers?”
Callie could practically hear the wheels turning as Rob and Trish stared at the open suitcase. Callie loved this part, the way they always struggled with it at first. But she knew where this would go. They’d turn it every way they could, but in the end, they’d take the money.
“This sounds like one of those specials, like ‘What Would You Do?’” Trish said, unable to let go of her feeling this was all an elaborate hoax.
