Handsome and Greta (Seven Ways to Sin 3)

“Exactly.” I propped my feet up on the chair next to me, peeled off my shoes, and gave my toes a much-needed massage. The trek up from the workshop wasn’t kind to my feet, especially in the only pair of shoes I had which were threatening to come apart.

“Speaking of trouble,” said Betty as she set down a bowl of steaming lentils in front of me and another for her and took a seat at the table, “I went by the orphanage this morning on my way to the market.”

I looked at her with a raised brow.

She put her hands up defensively. “I just wanted to get a peek. See if things really have changed.”

I smirked and shook my head. “I doubt it. They can take out their puppet and put in another, but the ones pulling the strings stay the same. As long as everyone gets their cut of the action, why would they want any real change?”

“Don’t you think you’re being just a wee bit cynical?”

I shrugged. “I’ve seen it before. Just saying.” I blew on my spoon of lentils and prepared to raise it to my mouth when Betty surprised me.

“You need to be careful, Jake,” she said, her tone suddenly serious.

I cocked my head to the side.

“I saw your picture hanging up at the orphanage reception.”

“Was I elected orphan of the month? Nobody told me.”

“I’m serious, Jake.” She smiled, unfolded her napkin, and set it daintily on her lap. “The photo was of you back when you had bleach-blond hair and that silly goatee. Do you remember that?”

I chuckled. “Ah yes. I was so young then.”

“I definitely think you look better with your natural dark hair. And why the goatee? You shouldn’t be hiding that pretty little chin of yours.”

I smiled and rubbed my clean-shaven face. “No more hiding. Naked for all to see.”

Betty’s smile vanished again. “That’s exactly my point, Jake. Your hair might be a different color, but there’s no mistaking those deep dark eyes.”

“I’ll put colored contacts on my shopping list.”

“Point is,” said Betty with a huff, “doesn’t look like things have blown over like we thought they might.”

“Like you thought they might,” I said, pointing at her with my spoon.

“I think you should really think about turning yourself in.”

I sighed—not this again—and stuffed my mouth with warm lentils.

“They’ve got DNA tests they can do now. Should be easy enough to clear up this misunderstanding.”

Betty meant well, so I didn’t tell her what I was really thinking at the moment.

Sure, they have DNA tests that could prove I wasn’t the kid they were looking for. And they had no physical evidence on me. I’d never even been to Colorado, much less killed anyone there.

Of course, if I turned myself in, that would mean I’d have to confess to stealing that kid’s identity, which was, admittedly, nothing compared to the murder charge. But the forgery was too good, and I’d have to also confess to being in cahoots with the old orphan master Mr. Greyson.

I wouldn’t have minded turning on Mr. Greyson. But the fact that he had been acquitted of all charges—racketeering and bribery among them—and with the mountain of evidence they had against him, well, let’s just say I didn’t much trust the system.

If I turned myself in, I would need to get a good lawyer first. And a good lawyer costs money—something I hadn’t been coming into much contact with lately.

Once I started making money, real money, I’d get the electricity turned back on in this cabin and get Betty the medicine she needed. Hiring a lawyer wasn’t exactly a top priority for me. Even if it were possible, which it wasn’t.

“There was a girl at the orphanage reception,” said Betty.

“A girl?” I raised my eyebrows.

Betty swatted down my curiosity. “Oh, she wasn’t your type.”

I chuckled. “Really? And what’s my type?”

“You want a girl with some curves.” She outlined a curvaceous woman for me in the air. “A nice girl with some meat on her bones. Not some skinny rake who’d probably break in half if you hugged her too hard.”

“Is that right? That’s the kind of girl I want?”

“This girl was too skinny for you,” she said angrily. “You can forget about her. I only brought her up because I’d never seen her before. There was an older woman there too I hadn’t seen before. I think they’ve changed the whole staff.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. After the scandal, somebody had to take the fall.”

“And it wasn’t Orphan Master Greyson,” said Betty.

I pointed at her with my spoon again. “You see my point - one puppet out, they put another one in, and nothing ever changes.”

I got to the workshop early the next morning.

There was still a lot of work that needed to be done to the set. I’d finished painting the styrofoam but still needed to hang up some ornaments and string the lights.