Evening Bags and Executions (22 page)

“Haley?” Jeanette said.

I snapped back to reality and hurried inside her office.

Detective Madison stood behind Jeanette's desk.

Talk about a mood killer.

Then it hit me—was Madison here to arrest me for the murder of Lacy Hobbs? Last time I'd talked to Shuman about the case, he'd said Madison hadn't come up with any leads, evidence, or suspects. All he had was
me
. Had he finally decided that was enough?

But Detective Madison didn't have that overjoyed, gleeful look on his face that I'd expect to see if he'd actually come to arrest me. There were no patrol officers with him, and whomever he'd partnered with in Shuman's absence wasn't there, either.

I had no idea why he was there, but I'd learned—the hard way—to keep my mouth shut around homicide detectives, especially Madison.

But he didn't seem all that anxious to get the conversation rolling, either. A couple of minutes passed while we were locked into some sort of who's-going-to-speak-first confrontation. Madison broke first.

“When was the last time you spoke with Detective Shuman?” he asked.

He'd said the words softly, but I felt as if he'd blasted them at me with a laser cannon.

Shuman. Oh my God.
Shuman.

“Why? What's wrong? What happened?” I asked, blasting him right back with my questions.

“Nothing,” Madison said. “Maybe nothing.”

“Is he okay?” I asked.

“I haven't heard from him,” Madison said. “He's missing.”

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that Madison had kept in contact with Shuman. They were, after all, partners.

So now it looked as if he were the person I'd suspected was feeding Shuman info on the investigation into Amanda's murder. By the worried look on Madison's face I could see that he wasn't sure he'd done the right thing.

I knew how he felt.

When Mike Ivan had given me the location of Amanda's murderer I'd mentally wrestled with what to do with the info. Give it to Shuman? Or not?

Now, knowing that he'd gone missing, which meant there was a possibility that he could be injured somewhere—or worse—I could be asking myself the same question.

But I wasn't.

I'd made my decision and I would to stick by it. I couldn't second-guess myself. I had to believe that what I'd done was the right thing. I couldn't back out now. I was confident it was what Shuman wanted. It was his call. I would have to trust in him to handle things.

That's what friends did.

“I saw him a few days ago,” I told Madison.

“Did he tell you . . . anything?” he asked.

Madison knew Shuman and I were friends. That's why he'd come here. I figured he must be pretty desperate—or worried—to ask me for help.

“We talked about Amanda, mostly,” I said, which wasn't a total lie.

“How did he seem?” Detective Madison asked.

I mentally debated for a moment, then decided it was time for a total lie.

“Better,” I said. “He seemed like he was coming to terms with everything.”

Madison nodded thoughtfully, then said, “If you hear from him, let me know.”

I nodded, and Madison left. I lingered in Jeanette's office for a couple of minutes, then went back to the stock room. Out of habit, I pulled my cell phone from my pants pocket.

Yikes! I'd missed a call—from Muriel!

I must have been so caught up in thinking about Shuman and talking to Madison, I hadn't felt it vibrate.

I called Muriel, and immediately she picked up.

“We got the call.” She sounded breathless and majorly stressed. “It was one of those computer voices. Creepy.”

“What's the deal?” I asked.

“You have to meet the kidnapper at nine tonight,” she said.

I glanced at my watch. That was only a little over an hour from now. Not much time.

“Where?” I asked.

“At Hollywood and Highland,” Muriel said. “Wear red, lots of red, so you can be spotted.”

“What am I supposed to do with the money?” I asked.

“Give it to Janice,” she said.

“Janice? Who's Janice?” I asked.

“I have no idea.”

Oh, crap.

C
HAPTER
23

I
swung into the parking structure at the Hollywood & Highland Center, circled down the ramp, and found an empty space near the escalators. I'd made it down here from Holt's in record time—with some help.

After I'd hung up with Muriel, I told Bella I had to leave immediately. She was good with it. Since I'd been told to wear red and I didn't have time to go home, I'd grabbed a red hoodie, scarf, and knit hat from the juniors section of the stock room—it wasn't stealing, technically, because I'd bring them back tomorrow. Besides, what else could I do? Bella said she'd clock out for me—she rolls with
anything
—and I left the store by the rear door.

I'd told Muriel to meet me at a convenience store near the Lankershim Avenue exit off the 101. She'd been waiting locked inside her car, cradling the duffel bag of cash in her arms, when I pulled up. She tossed me the bag through our open windows, and I took off again.

Now that I'd arrived, I stayed seated in my Honda and glanced around—although I'm not sure what I expected to see. The parking garage was nearly filled with vehicles, but few people were there. With all the shops, stores, and restaurants still open, everyone was enjoying the nightlife.

I got out of my car, zipped into my hoodie, wrapped the scarf around my neck, and pulled on the knit hat.

Jeez, I really hope nothing goes bad tonight. No way did I want to have my mug shot taken in this getup.

I took another look around the parking garage, thinking I might spot Jack. I'd called him with the ransom info when I left Holt's, as he'd asked me to do, but he hadn't answered. I hoped he'd listened to the voicemail I'd left. He hadn't said he'd come help and I hadn't asked him to. Still, I wished he'd show up or at least call. Maybe he could help me figure out who Janice was and just how the heck I was supposed to find her.

I circled my car and pulled the black duffel Muriel had given me off of the passenger seat. Surprisingly, twenty grand didn't weigh all that much. Or maybe I was just pumped up. I took the escalator up to Level 2 and walked out to the central courtyard.

I'd been to the Hollywood & Highland Center many times. It was a hot spot for tourists, locals—everybody. The multistory complex held all sorts of shops and restaurants, dozens of kiosks, a spa, a bowling alley, and lots of places for photo ops, plus outdoor seating and a view of the Hollywood sign.

The place was huge. I hadn't been told where I was supposed to meet the kidnapper who called herself Janice, so I strolled around the courtyard for a while. Nobody approached me. I saw no one who looked suspicious—other than myself, a young woman alone, dressed in a hideous outfit, carrying a duffel bag for no apparent reason.

I took a peek at my watch. Nearly nine.

I fought off total panic.

How the heck was I supposed to find the kidnapper and deliver the ransom? Was I expected to just stand around and wait?

I'm not good at waiting.

I took the long, wide staircase down to Hollywood Boulevard.

The street was alive with bumper-to-bumper traffic and droves of people. The marquee of Disney's old school El Capitan Theater blazed. The bronze stars of the Walk of Fame shimmered with reflected light.

To my right was the Dolby Theater, and a couple of blocks farther the huge Hotel Roosevelt sign shone atop the building. In between was Grauman's Chinese Theatre and the footprints of stars cast in cement. To my left toward Highland Avenue was Ripley's Believe It or Not! Museum with a dinosaur's head coming out of the roof, and nearby was the Hollywood Museum.

The crowd was thick, and the H&H complex was immense. How the heck was the kidnapper going to find me—even though I was wearing red? I wasn't sure whomever it was knew to look for a female. I hadn't been instructed where to stand. We could wander around this place for hours and keep missing each other.

How was I supposed to find the kidnapper when all I had to go on was a first name? Janice? Who was that? Was somebody going to walk by carrying a sign that read J
ANICE
like limo drivers did at the airport?

I couldn't stand still waiting for something to happen. I headed toward Highland Avenue, maneuvering my way through the crowd and—froze.

On the corner stood Superman and Marilyn. Nearby were Iron Man, Darth Vader, and Batman. Harry Potter, Elvis, and Cher were positioned a little farther up the block. Dozens of tourist crowded around the celebrity and superhero look-alikes, smiling, joking, and having their pictures taken.

Oh my God—I'd seen these guys a zillion times. Why hadn't I thought about them before? That's how I'd find the kidnapper. All I had to do was look for a famous Janice.

I moved closer to the building near the stairs that led down to the underground Metrolink station where I could keep watch. The costumed impersonators were really working it, waving tourists over, mugging for their cameras, flirting, posing for whatever tip was offered.

Another Batman rounded the corner, and I wondered if there would be trouble. The look-alikes—or, rather, the actors in the costumes—were territorial. They staked out the best spots and didn't want another costumed character nearby distracting the tourists and taking their tips. Arguments and fights had broken out.

Great. That's all I needed. A throwdown that brought the police.

But this new Batman didn't seem to want trouble. He moved slowly down the street, taking in the traffic, the lights, the people, looking for a good spot on the sidewalk where he could draw a crowd of his own.

I glanced at my watch. A couple of minutes past nine. Janice should appear any minute now.

My heart rate picked up, and the twenty grand in the duffel bag seemed to get heavier.

My thoughts raced.

Maybe I should have insisted Jack come with me—even though he hadn't volunteered. Maybe I should have offered to pay him. Or have sex with him.

Jeez, why did I keep thinking about having sex with Jack? I couldn't have sex with Jack. Not when I still thought so much about Ty. Jack was right. We shouldn't get involved—not until this thing with Ty was settled.

Still, I hadn't had sex in a while. Would it be wrong—totally completely wrong—if we did? Jeez, didn't anybody have empty, meaningless sex anymore? Couldn't we just—

Oh my God, there was Janis Joplin.

A woman with a mop of long, thick, curly hair was headed my way from Highland Avenue. She had on a huge, wide-brimmed floppy hat and tiny round glasses with rose-colored lenses, a long tie-dyed top with bell sleeves, and purple elephant-leg pants; she'd styled the costume with a zillion necklaces and bracelets.

She looked totally retro except for the Coach bag I recognized from three years ago, a yikes-what's-this-thing tote covered in fuchsia flower blossoms, and a black duffel bag, which I hoped held Sheridan Adams's Beatles bobbleheads.

Thoughts pinged around in my head, things Jack had told me—kidnappers were unstable, make sure to see the bobbleheads before handing over the money, and . . . something else. He'd told me something else that had seemed important at the time. What was it?

I stepped away from the building and faced Janis Joplin so she'd be sure to see me. Even though I couldn't make out her features clearly, I sensed that she'd spotted me. She shifted direction slightly and walked straight toward me.

Jeez, I wish I could remember that last thing Jack told me to watch out for.

Janis walked closer. My heart pounded.

She drew nearer. My gaze moved to her duffel bag. Inside was my job, the future of L.A. Affairs, Sheridan Adams's Beatles charity auction.

My palms started to sweat. I drew a breath, forcing myself to calm down.

Janis stopped. Our gazes held for about two seconds, then she whipped around and headed back toward Highland Avenue.

Oh, no! What happened? She wasn't supposed to leave. We were supposed to—

My duffel ripped off of my arm. I held on to the strap, whirled around, and came face-to-face with Batman.

A partner.
That's
what Jack said I should watch out for. No way was I letting Janis Joplin's partner take the money while she got away with the bobbleheads.

I held on for all I was worth and dug in my heels, locked in a tug of war with Batman.

“Let go, Haley,” he said.

That voice. I knew that voice.

Oh my God, it was Jack—in the Batman costume.

“Stay here,” he told me.

The duffel slipped through my fingers. Jack took off down the street after Janis, his cape flying behind him.

I just stood there, too stunned to move.

What the heck had happened? Why had Janis Joplin left? What was Jack doing here? And was that bulge in his tights a gun?

I dodged through the crowd, stopped at Highland Avenue, and peeked around the corner. A block away near the entrance to the parking garage, Batman and Janis Joplin faced each other and were peering into the open duffel bags held between them.

Batman reached inside Janis's bag and pulled out the cardboard display box containing the Beatles bobbleheads. He checked it over, then put it back inside. He handed his duffel to Janis and took hers. She locked her arms around it and disappeared into the parking garage.

Rage burst inside me. Janis Joplin was getting away. She'd taken what didn't belong to her, ransomed it, created havoc in my life, Muriel's life, Sheridan's life, all of which nearly resulted in me losing my job and L.A. Affairs going out of business. No way was I going to just stand there and let her get away.

Jack headed in my direction, the duffel tucked under his arm. I took off down the sidewalk and cut around him, headed for the parking garage. He caught my arm and pulled me up short.

“Let go,” I said, yanking away from him.

Jack held on. “We have to get out of here.”

“No!”

He headed for the corner, pulling me along with him, and leaned down.

“She knew you, Haley. That's why she took off,” he told me. “Who was she?”

“What?” I asked, stumbling along beside him.

“She recognized you. She must have. There was no other reason for her to bolt,” he said.

My head spun. I thought back, trying to remember what little I'd seen of her face.

“I—I have no idea who she was,” I said.

Jack kept his hand locked around my arm as we turned the corner onto Hollywood Boulevard. A few people on the sidewalk glanced our way. If any of them had noticed the struggle we'd had over the duffel a few minutes ago, they didn't say anything.

“You need to get out of here,” Jack said. “Where are you parked?”

He was looking around, taking in the crowd, watching for trouble—which I hadn't even thought about.

Jeez, my private detective skills need a lot of work.

Worried now that Janis Joplin might still have a partner nearby who would try to take the bobbleheads back, I hurried alongside Jack up the stairs to the central courtyard, then down the escalators to the parking garage.

“Do you think she has an accomplice here somewhere?” I asked.

The Caped Crusader and I were getting a lot of looks now.

“Doubtful,” Jack said.

Wish I could have worn a Catwoman costume.

“This wasn't a professional operation,” he said.

At my car, I popped the trunk and Jack put the duffel inside, then opened my door and hustled me in behind the wheel. I started the engine and buzzed the window down.

“Watch behind you to make sure you're not followed. Go straight to Sheridan's,” Jack said. “Call her. Tell her you're on the way. Don't get out of the car until you recognize someone standing in the doorway.”

“Got it,” I said.

I put the car in reverse and backed up a little, then hit the brakes.

“How did you get into that costume and down here so quick?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I was in the Batcave when you called.”

I grinned and backed out of the spot, then drove away.

I exited the parking garage and crept along Highland Avenue as it curved around to the entrance to the 101. Once I'd merged into traffic, I put in my Bluetooth and called Muriel.

“Got them,” I said, when she answered.

All I heard was a little mewling sound, which I took to mean she was both happy and relieved.

“I'm on my way to Sheridan's house,” I said. “Meet me there. Tell the security guard on duty to let me through the gate. Stand in the open doorway. I'm not getting out of the car until I make sure everything is safe.”

“I understand,” she said. “Wow, Haley, you really are good at this.”

I saw no need to tell her that I might have blown the whole thing if it hadn't been for Jack.

“See you soon,” I said, and we hung up.

Keeping Jack's other advice in mind, I checked my rearview mirror in case Janis Joplin and a possible partner might be somehow following me. But since it was dark and all I could see were headlights, it was hard to tell if a vehicle was tailing me. I changed lanes frequently, sped up and slowed down—well, mostly I sped up—just in case.

I tried to focus on the traffic but the whole ransom exchange kept playing over and over in my head.

I thought I'd handled everything pretty well. I'd followed the kidnapper's instructions, gotten everything I needed, made it to the appointed spot, and I'd even figured out who to make the ransom exchange with.

But if Jack hadn't been there when the whole thing went bad, I don't know what I'd have done.