Read Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery Online

Authors: Elaine Flinn

Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery (10 page)

BOOK: Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery
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Molly was tempted to give Randall a salute and then snap out a “Ten-four,” but noting that his eyes were in slit-mode, she decided just to nod. She was furious with herself for bringing this on. There was no sense in taking it out on Randall. She had no doubt Todd Jessop was behind the paint damage and the flat tires. She knew she could have played the scene last night at the dinner differently. She knew what he’d been up to and should have ignored him. She could have turned away and talked to someone else or left the table for a moment. She could have called him in the morning and discussed it then.
Would have, could have, should have:
the perpetual Monday-morning-quarterbacking trinity. But no, she let her temper and ego get the best of her and now she was paying the price. Carla was right. She wasn’t watching her back. Well, she would from now on, and woe to anyone who crept up on her.
“What the hell are you mumbling about?” Randall asked as they crossed over to Ocean Avenue.
“I’m not mumbling,” Molly said.
“Your lips are moving,” Emma said.
Molly ignored them. They were two shops away from Treasures now and she counted the minutes till Randall would leave. When they reached the outside stairs to the apartment, Randall swore, “Dammit, Molly! Your light over the stairs is out again.”
Molly’s shoulders drooped and she sighed. “I forgot to replace it again. It keeps burning out. Max is having someone check it for me.”
“Is the alarm on?”
“Uh, no.”
Randall shook his head. “You said it was earlier. I gotta watch you every minute. Gimme your keys. Stay down here until I call you.”
“You’re ready to rip, aren’t you,” Emma whispered as Randall went up the stairs. “I’d wait until he leaves. He’s just worried about us, that’s all.”
“I know, but he could be a little less gruff. Poor Officer Wilkins. He didn’t have to tear into him like that.”
“Okay, it’s clear. Come on up,” Randall called.
“You go first,” Molly said to Emma. “He likes you better than me.”
Emma laughed. “Sometimes you’re a little dense, you know?”
“It’s a bad family gene. I’m just glad you didn’t inherit it.”
Molly set her tote down in the living room, then headed for the small kitchen. “Would you like a coffee, Chief Randall? It’s the least I can do to thank you for your diligence.” She knew she was being snarky, but it was too late to take her words back.
Randall was standing by the French doors to the balcony. He pulled both handles to make sure Molly had locked up before she’d left. “Got any more of those lemon cookies?”
“It just so happens I do. Does that mean we’re friends again?”
Randall smiled at Emma, and then tapped the side of his head with his finger. “She’s nuts, you do know that, don’t you?”
Emma laughed. She moved closer and hugged Randall. “Thanks for playing hero. It’s really cool when you get into your cop mode.”
Molly came back from the kitchen with a box of cookies and three mugs on an old wood tray. “Coffee and cocoa will be ready in a minute.”
Randall smiled. “I’m sorry I was testy, okay? Those cookies still fresh?”
“Probably not,” Molly said as she set the tray on the cut-down dining table that served as an oversized coffee table. “But when did that ever stop you?”
“Very funny,” Randall said. “Stop beating yourself up over last night, will you? It’s over. Spilt milk and all that.”
Molly sank into the down cushions of the sofa and sighed. “I know, but it shouldn’t have happened. I don’t know what came over me. Well, that’s a lie. I do know, but it’s too late now. I can’t rewind the film.”
“Will Max be mad when you tell him about the El Camino?” Emma asked.
“No, the insurance will cover it. And Max wouldn’t be mad anyway,” Molly said. “But it looks like we might not be able to hit the garage sales on Saturday. I don’t know how long it will take for the repairs.”
“Don’t worry about wheels,” Randall said. “You can use my car. Hell, last thing I want is to see you two moping around because you missed a sale.”
“Oh, I just love you to pieces,” Emma said. “Now, I won’t have to tell Michelle we can’t go.”
“That’s very nice of you,” Molly said. “Thanks.”
Chapter 9
 
MOLLY WAS ON the phone with Max first thing the next morning. “Oh, Max,” she said, “I’m just sick about this. After all it cost you to repair and paint the pickup after that Bixby Bridge incident, and now—”
“Molly, my love, please don’t get worked up. The insurance will pay for it. Maybe it’s time to retire the old dear. It’s over thirty years old. How about one of those snazzy SUV things?”
“I wouldn’t dream of having you spend that kind of money for a shop car.”
“But they are practical. And at least you could protect merch better. It’s a sight better for the image as well. How about it? You pick something out and I’ll take it from there. Really, it’s only money. And at my age, what the hell else can I spend it on?”
Molly laughed. “More merch for your shop?”
“Oh, please. I can hardly move in the shop as it is. Just get something with side airbags. And be sure it has one of those GPS thingies so next time you get into trouble Randall will be able to find you.”
“Very funny,” Molly said. “I’m already in trouble again. Well, not like before, but this Todd Jessop is really one for the books. I still can’t believe I threw that glass of wine in his face.”
“Ohhh, I wish I could have seen that! You can be such a sassy thing when you get riled up. Are you still planning on going to the big birthday bash for King Mattucci?”
“Is that what people call him? How do you know so much?”
“Darling, I made it my biz to know who all the money people were down there when I inherited the shop and the complex. Domenico Mattucci has been a big player for eons. His grandfather started out as an immigrant sheep rancher. The family bought up land in the Valley like it was going out of style. We’re talking about millions and millions of dollars. This Jessop is flirting with ending up on the street.”
“But I thought he was loaded,” Molly said.
“Hmmm. Not like his father-in-law. I know a few dot-com players who told me that Jessop has been bragging that when ‘the old man’ is gone, he’s going to clean house and put Bello Lago on the map.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Molly said. “I had a front-row seat the other night when he tried to push some new labels on the marketing director. He was told in no uncertain terms to mind his own business.”
“Well, that’s what I’m talking about. Cleaning house.”
“Max? Do you think I should go to the birthday party? I mean, after what I did?”
“You have to, love. If you don’t, it will look like he’s won.”
Molly sat up in the chair and nodded. “Right! You’re absolutely right. I wouldn’t give the bastard that satisfaction.”
Max laughed. “I knew you’d see it that way.”
 
Molly was in a better mood after talking to Max. She set about adding the new merch into the inventory on the computer. She’d been at it for an hour when the bell over the door rang. Molly put on a smile and was about to get up, when the man who’d bought the silver water pitcher last week entered, and asked, “Is that ship model still available?”
“Hello. Yes, it is.”
“Don’t get up,” he said, “I’ll just give it another look if you don’t mind.”
Molly swiveled around in her chair, about to return to the computer when she saw Bitsy Morgan coming in. She braced herself. That quick stride of Bitsy’s could only mean one thing: She was upset about something. Molly was glad it wasn’t her for once. Not that they argued, but Bitsy had set ways about life. And they were all her ways. She frequently rearranged merch in the shop after Molly had set it out, moved furniture, and had even been known to take apart flower arrangements because she didn’t like a certain color.
Molly sat back in the chair and folded her arms. “Okay, what’s bugging you? I can see you’ve got something on your mind. But it’s good to have you back home.”
Bitsy stood in front of Molly’s desk and shook her head. “I cannot believe what I just heard! Everyone’s talking about you and how you poured a bottle of very expensive wine all over Todd Jessop’s head and when you went after him, you had to be pulled away. And what’s this about a live skunk in your pickup in front of Daria’s? I heard the same story at the post office just a few minutes ago.”
Molly’s mouth fell open. “What? That’s crazy!” Then she remembered the man at the back of the shop. “Shh. There’s a customer here in the shop.”
Bitsy’s head did a complete swivel. “Oh, Lord. Where?”
“He’s in the back, so keep it to a low roar, okay?”
“I see him now. He can’t hear us. Well, young lady?”
“It’s not so,” Molly said.
Bitsy pretended to hold onto the desk to stop herself from fainting. “Ohhh, thank God for that!” Then she gave Molly a look. “How did this get started? You must have done something. These things don’t just fall from the sky.”
Motioning Bitsy to sit at the chair next to the desk, Molly put her finger to her lips. “That man is looking at the ship model. Fourteen hundred bucks, okay?”
Bitsy sat in the chair, crossed her legs, and tapped one foot. “I’m waiting.”
Molly grinned. “You’re making me feel like a little kid getting scolded. Stop it, okay? The real story is...well, it’s a long one, but the short version is that Todd Jessop called me a mangy bitch and I lost my head and threw a glass of wine at him. But I did not go after him. And yes, the El Camino was trashed, skunked, keyed, and the tires flattened.”
Bitsy patted her chignon, shrugged ever so elegantly, then looked up at the ceiling. “Dear Lord, help me save this woman, would you please? She knows not what she does. Please tell me it’s not too late.”
“You’d have done the same thing, so don’t get dramatic.”
“Not with a client, I wouldn’t,” Bitsy said.
“He’s not the client, his wife and her father are. And evidently her father likes me. So there. As for the truck, I think it was kids.”
“We don’t have kids like that in Carmel,” Bitsy said.
“Then last night was a first.”
“At least the job was saved. That’s all that really matters, isn’t it?”
Molly laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”
Bitsy’s eyes twinkled. “Yes, I’ve been told that.” She turned away from Molly and looked toward the back of the shop. “What the hell is he doing? Counting the planks on that old ship? Maybe I should meander down his way and—”
“He’s been in before. He doesn’t like hovering.”
Bitsy rose. “I don’t hover, darling. You should know that by now. I saunter. And I sell. Just watch me.”
Molly knew Bitsy was right. She had never seen an antiques dealer close sales like she did. The woman simply oozed charm. Max said that she could turn the Bush family into Democrats.
Molly also knew it was useless to try to stop Bitsy once she’d zeroed in on a potential sale. She watched her slowly move towards the back of the shop, stopping now and then to reposition a vase to her liking, check a lampshade for dust, and rearrange a stack of old leather books. Molly decided to go back to the inventory. She hadn’t the heart to watch. No sooner had she turned away when a woman close to Bitsy’s age entered.
“I’ll bet you’re Molly Doyle,” she said. With short, spiky red hair and barely five feet tall, the woman wore a gorgeous mocha wool suit that Molly figured cost as much as a first-class cruise to Mexico. If it wasn’t a Chanel, it was a damn good imitation. Her outstretched hand sported an emerald ring that had to be at least four carats. “My card,” she said as she handed Molly an oversized beige vellum card. In bold black letters, it read: L.A.P.D. The fine print underneath brought a big smile to Molly’s face. “Del Tinsley ? Is it really you?”
“In living color.”
Molly laughed. “I love the card! A friend of mine would get a kick out of this. He, uh, used to work for the LAPD.”
“Most of my clients would rather not have their wives find a card that read ‘Lap Dancer’ in their pocket.” Stepping back, Del eyed the pair of chairs Molly had set near the display window. “Oh, these are mine, right? I still can’t believe you managed to find six of them. So classy. Just perfect.”
Returning to Molly’s desk, she pulled out a check. “The boys with the truck will get here around four. I won’t be able to stay. I met my client and I decided not to do his party.”
Molly took the check. “Have a seat while I get your bill. Why are you passing on the party?”
“I always ask to see the guest list. I have to be sure my girls will be treated right. Most of my business comes from referrals, so a lot of the guests show up at more than one appearance. There are a few men I’d rather not have my girls entertain. Let’s just say they don’t follow the rules. Anyway, one of those guys is on the guest list here. When I asked that he not be invited, I was told that wasn’t possible. So, I turned the evening down.”
BOOK: Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery
8.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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