Chapter 82: A Dangerous Suspicion
Jimmy, after all, was a top student who had made it into Harvard to study medicine—the classic "model child" every parent talks about. When it came to academics, there was no doubt about his ability. If he tutored Fiona, it would be like getting a private tutor for free—plus, no risk of him slacking off.
Even more importantly, Jimmy could help cover Fiona's tuition. The University of Michigan wasn't any cheaper than the University of Chicago.
Frank, remembering the ridiculous tuition fees Professor Hurst mentioned—upwards of tens of thousands of dollars—felt utterly hopeless. It was rare to come across someone as gullible and generous as Jimmy.
If Jimmy was willing to buy Fiona a house, then paying her tuition should be even less of an issue. Frank's mental abacus clacked with delight.
"This could work," Jimmy thought to himself.
The idea of going to college with Fiona excited him. And since he'd be helping her with her studies, Frank wouldn't have an excuse to meddle and ruin things.
Once they reached this unspoken agreement, the atmosphere between Frank and Jimmy turned unexpectedly pleasant—as if the whole business of being scammed into giving away a house had never even happened.
For now, Jimmy's tutoring sessions with Fiona could still proceed. His father was hospitalized and still recovering, so Jimmy had to spend most of his time at home taking care of his mother, Candace.
Sure, Frank could look after Mrs. Candace just like he took care of Sheila… but he wisely chose not to offer. He figured Jimmy might stab him with a steak knife if he even suggested it.
As Frank and Jimmy were leaving the restaurant, Jimmy's phone suddenly rang.
"Lip?" Jimmy answered, surprised to see the caller ID. He glanced at Frank beside him.
"You free right now? I've got something urgent I need to talk to you about," Lip said over the phone.
"What's going on?" Jimmy asked.
"Uh, I was wondering… do you have any spare cash? I could use a loan. I'll pay you back next month," Lip said.
"A loan?" Jimmy was momentarily stunned.
"Ask him why," Frank whispered, mouthing the words.
"I can lend you money," Jimmy said, "but you'll need to tell me how much—and why."
"Two hundred bucks. 'Florence and the Machine' is performing at the Chicago Theatre. I want to take Karen for her birthday. It's her favorite band," Lip explained.
Lip had clearly exhausted all other options and was calling Jimmy out of sheer desperation.
"Oh, I see. When's her birthday?" Jimmy asked.
"This Friday. So… the money?" Lip replied.
"Sure. Don't worry about paying me back too soon," Jimmy said, glancing at Frank, who nodded approvingly.
"Thanks, man," Lip said and hung up.
"I'll cover it," Frank said, pulling $200 from his pocket and handing it to Jimmy.
"You could've just given it to him yourself," Jimmy said, taking the cash.
"Yeah, well… just say it came from you," Frank replied with a wave.
The fact that Lip didn't even come to his own dad for money and went to Jimmy—a virtual outsider—spoke volumes. It showed just how much Lip still resented him.
But the conversation did reveal one unexpected detail: Frank hadn't known Karen's birthday was this Friday.
After a few more words, Frank and Jimmy parted ways and headed home.
Candace hadn't been worried about Jimmy being out all night—he was an adult, after all. Plus, he had called the night before to say he was safe.
"Huh? What's that smell?" Jimmy muttered as he lay on the couch, thinking about everything that had happened. He suddenly sniffed the air—there was a faint sour, musty odor.
He got up and started searching for the source. That kind of smell definitely didn't belong in his home.
Eventually, he found it under the sofa: a black sock.
Frowning deeply, Jimmy examined it. This sock definitely didn't belong to anyone in his family. For one, it reeked. And there was even a hole in the toe.
But how the hell did a stranger's sock end up under his couch?
It wasn't like a pen or coin that might get dropped unnoticed. This was a sock—something someone wears on their foot.
"Wait a minute… could this be Frank's sock?" Jimmy thought, trying to recall who had visited the house recently. Frank was the only one who fit the profile.
After all, Jimmy came from a respectable family of doctors. The people they knew were all well-groomed, upstanding folks—not the kind who'd wear socks with holes in them.
But what kind of situation would lead to Frank's sock ending up under his couch?
"Jimmy?" Mrs. Candace came downstairs.
"Yes, Mom?" Jimmy quickly hid the sock behind him out of instinct.
As he chatted with her, Jimmy suddenly noticed how much smoother and more radiant her skin looked compared to before. A dangerous thought crept into his mind.
The plumbing had broken down a few times recently. The handyman had been coming often—and always when Jimmy wasn't home. That handyman was, of course, Frank in disguise. And knowing Frank's character…
Frank was still staying over at Sheila's house too!
"No… no way…" Jimmy stared at his mother going back upstairs, dumbfounded. After a long pause, he couldn't help but curse.
"There's no way. I'm overthinking it," Jimmy muttered to himself, cold sweat on his back. He didn't even throw the sock in the trash. He opened the window and hurled the stinky, hole-ridden thing outside.
But some thoughts don't just go away because you tell yourself not to think about them.
In fact, the more you try to ignore them, the louder they echo in your head.
Jimmy was restless. Even when calling Fiona, he couldn't focus.
"Frank… you and my mom didn't… right?" Jimmy finally couldn't resist and called him.
"Didn't what? By the way, your mom looks really young! When I first saw her, I thought she was your sister. Also, your place is incredibly warm!" Frank cut him off mid-sentence, clearly panicking and trying to change the subject.
With Frank rambling on and on, Jimmy eventually started to believe him—or at least forced himself to. Maybe Frank had just taken his socks off because it was hot, and Candace had come down to check on something and hurriedly hid the socks under the couch… and then forgot to take them.
It was absurd, but it was comforting.
Sometimes, people choose to believe what they want to believe—rather than face an uncomfortable truth.