When he finished and fell silent, she spoke as quietly as she could, “You’re certain?” “I was there. I saw.” “Very well, thank you,” she said, maintaining her low tone. “Please don’t repeat this conversation to anyone, understand?” “I do. Ms. Marsh won’t know anything about it.” Ronnie closed the phone and turned to her assistant Francine, a remarkably efficient young woman who had proven herself as loyal as Wallace. Ronnie liked to think part of Francine’s devotion was because the girl genuinely cared for her even more than the hefty salary she made. However, Ronnie wasn’t that much of a sentimental fool. With what Francine earned, she’d already saved her parents’ home from foreclosure and had paid off her younger brother’s school debts so he could sail unburdened through his surgical residency at Johns Hopkins. Good reasons to keep her mouth shut if she sensed something odd or illegal was going on. “Everything’s fine,” Ronnie said, more to herself than Francine.
