Fanny Packs and Foul Play (A Haley Randolph Mystery) (7 page)

Being responsible is inconvenient at
times.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled
it out and saw that Jack was calling.

“Gotta go,” I said, as I sprang out of my
chair.

“Must be a hot guy,” Sandy said.

“Ask him if he’s got a brother,” Bella
called, as I dashed out of the breakroom.

No way did I want to have a conversation with
Jack in front of anyone, so I hit the green button on my phone as I
raced down the hallway past the managers’ offices and the customer
service booth. I pushed through the swinging doors and went into
the stockroom.

“The undercover investigator will be in place
tomorrow,” Jack said when I answered.

He sounded tense, deeply entrenched in
private-detective mode—which was way hot.

I’d talked with him yesterday about putting
one of his people in the Spencer-Taft mansion for extra security
under the guise of someone from a concierge service, and he’d liked
it. I was glad he was making it happen.

“Did anything pop on the work crews?” I
asked.

“Everybody’s clean, so far,” Jack said.
“Still checking.”

I paced through the aisles of the stockroom.
It was quiet back here, except for the store’s canned music track
that played faintly. The shelves were all jammed with Christmas
merchandise that would be displayed on Black Friday.

Andrea had told me that Erika and Patrick had
dated, and I hadn’t told Jack yet. I wasn’t sure if it was old news
or something relevant to Veronica’s murder, and I hadn’t wanted to
look like I was just talking crap about Erika—not to Jack,
anyway—nor did I want to tell him something he already knew.

But neither did I want to look as if I hadn’t
come up with anything new that would move the investigation
forward—which, I know, was kind of shallow of me, but there it
was.

“Did you know that Patrick and Erika used to
date?” I asked.

Jack was quiet for a few seconds so I knew
this was something he hadn’t heard, which was totally awesome
because now, for a change, I was the hot one.

I gave him the run down on what Andrea had
shared with me, then added, “So I’m wondering if it was really over
between Patrick and Erika.”

“It must have been, if she was decorating
their house,” Jack said.

I shook my head as I paced. Men. They really
knew so little about the devious ways of women.

“Maybe not,” I said. “It could mean she
definitely wasn’t over Patrick and wanted to get into the house and
do away with Veronica. Then she would be in the perfect position to
swoop in and take Patrick.”

“Who hired Erika?” Jack asked.

“I’m going out there this afternoon,” I said.
“I’ll find out.”

“Good,” Jack said. He shifted to his Barry
White voice and said, “Thanks, Haley.”

My breath caught. I’m totally helpless
against his Barry White voice.

He ended the call before I could say
anything—which was good, because I couldn’t think of anything to
say, anyway.

* * *

I hadn’t really planned on going out to
Calabasas this afternoon but while talking to Jack I’d decided I
should. I was worried about Veronica’s family, even though Jack had
security personnel on the property, and I wanted to check on things
personally. Plus, I’d told Andrea I’d help out.

Of course, more info was definitely needed
from the family and I figured I would be in a better position to
root it out than someone who was investigating the murder in an
official capacity. Homicide detectives tended to put people off—or
maybe that was just me.

I swung by my apartment after my shift ended
at Holt’s—my fabulous apartment, which I totally loved, was only a
few minutes from the store—and freshened my hair and makeup, and
changed into pants and a sweater that were nicer than the jeans and
T-shirt I’d worked in all day. I headed out to Calabasas and called
Andrea as I merged onto the 101.

“I wanted to come by,” I said, when she
answered. “Will you let the gate guard know?”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll put you on the
permanent list.”

“How’s it going?”

“Okay,” Andrea said, then paused a few
seconds and added, “but kind of boring, really. They toured
Universal Studios yesterday so they’re exhausted—the aunts, anyway.
This was supposed to be their first full day with Veronica and
Patrick, so that’s not helping.”

“How’s Patrick holding up?” I asked.

“He asked me to move into the house while
Veronica’s family is here, to look after them and try to keep them
entertained,” Andrea said.

“Wow, that’s tough,” I said. “Can you do
that?”

“For what he’s paying me? You bet,” Andrea
said. “But other than that, I haven’t heard anything. Nobody’s been
here or called.”

I figured Patrick would be too consumed with
grief—and understandably so—to concern himself with the house
guests. He’d done all he could by having Andrea stay with them.

“What about Julia?” I asked. “Hasn’t she
checked on them?”

“Not once.”

Okay, I knew Julia might be upset too, but
that was crappy.

“Oh, by the way,” I said, shifting into
wanna-be private detective mode, “who hired Erika to decorate the
house?”

“Veronica,” Andrea said.

That surprised me.

“Somebody must have recommended her,” I said
because, really, Erika didn’t work for the kind of decorator
service you’d find in your spam folder.

“She was already involved with the
renovations when I came on board,” Andrea explained. She was quiet
for a moment, thinking, then said, “I don’t know who suggested her
to Veronica. Nobody mentioned it.”

“Did she know about Erika and Patrick’s
past?” I asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” Andrea said. “But I
doubt it would have mattered. She was absolutely secure in
Patrick’s love for her.”

Wow, she must have really believed in
Patrick.

“I couldn’t have tolerated an old girlfriend
that close,” I said, and felt an age-old wave of jealousy zing
though me.

“Me either,” Andrea said. “But that was
Veronica. She always thought the best of everybody.”

Had that led to her murder? I wondered.

“I’ll be there soon,” I said, and we ended
the call.

I wondered, too, if maybe Patrick’s love
wasn’t as all-consuming as Veronica—and everyone else,
apparently—thought it was. Had he had second thoughts about
marrying her? Had he hired Erika hoping to ignite an old flame?
Could the two of them have plotted to get rid of Veronica?

I didn’t like to think about that so,
luckily, my cell phone rang. Then I saw that it was Mom.

Maybe the call wasn’t so lucky an
interruption, after all.

“Good news,” Mom declared, when I
answered.

I didn’t need a crystal ball to predict that
Mom’s good news had nothing to do with me.

“I’ve found several eligible bachelors to
invite to Thanksgiving dinner for your sister,” she told me.

I should have my own psychic hotline.

“I’ve discussed these young men in depth with
a number of my friends,” Mom went on, “and two of them are
extremely promising. Others are less so. One I was forced to
disregard completely. I’ll keep looking, of course. There’s still
plenty of time. I’m confident I’ll find the perfect man.”

Not that I wished anything bad for my sister,
but I kind of hoped Mom wouldn’t find anyone to set her up with
because I didn’t want to be the only one there without a date. I
could just imagine all the questions I’d get from family members I
seldom saw and from whoever else Mom had invited. Some of them knew
that I’d dated Ty but probably hadn’t learned that we’d broken
up.

I didn’t want my personal life on parade,
fielding questions, seeing the disappointed
too-bad-it-didn’t-work-out expressions on their faces, then having
to listen to their well-intended pep talks about how they were
certain the right man for me was out there somewhere and eventually
I’d find him.

And as if that wouldn’t be bad enough, who
knew what Mom would actually serve for dinner? Last year she’d gone
with Russian food—although the vodka had helped everybody get
through the day much easier.

Then, for some reason, Liam Douglas flew into
my head.

Where the heck had he come from? Why was I
thinking about him? Him, of all people?

Well, he was incredibly good looking. And,
even though he’d been a total jerk when we’d first met, he’d
apologized. He’d even told a funny joke about lawyers. That counted
for something, right?

“So you think it’s a good idea?” Mom
asked.

She’d been blabbing on and I hadn’t been
listening, I realized.

That happened a lot.

I had only the vaguest notion what she was
talking about—some trip to Cuba—so what could I say but, “Sure.
Great idea.”

“Excellent,” she told me. “I’ll get right on
it.”

We ended the call as I exited the 101, wound
through the streets, and pulled up to the guard house. I presented
my driver’s license out the window to the guy I’d seen on duty many
times, but he waved me off.

“We have you on our permanent list, Miss
Randolph,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, and dropped my license into
my handbag—a darling Gucci tote.

He hit a button that opened the gate. I drove
through.

When I swung into the Spencer-Taft driveway a
few minutes later I parked between Andrea’s Mazda and Veronica’s
BMW, and got out. All the construction projects remained just as
they were when the workers had been called off the job by the
police. I spotted one of Jack’s security guys nearby.

As I crossed the circular drive, the front
door burst open and Renée charged outside. She stopped, turned
back, and yelled, “I’m getting what’s due me! And to hell with all
of you!”

She slammed the door and stomped off around
the house.

Good grief. What now?

I walked into
the entryway in time to see Melanie dash up the stairs. Cassie
stood at the bottom looking more than slightly upset. She spotted
me and heaved a heavy sigh.

“I guess you heard,” she said, looking
embarrassed but resigned to what had happened, as if she’d been
down this road with her sisters many times.

“Must be tough always trying to be the
peacemaker,” I said.

Cassie shook her head. “Melanie and Renée
have never gotten along. I thought it might be different on this
trip, but Renée is worse than usual.”

“What’s she so upset about?” I asked.

“Basically, she’s mad that life didn’t turn
out better for her,” Cassie said. “And right now she’s blaming it
on Veronica.”

Okay, that surprised me.

I guess it showed in my expression because
Cassie went on.

“It started years ago,” she said. “Veronica
found our mother’s candy recipe in the back of an old cookbook.
We’d lost Mom a decade before that, and nobody had bothered with it
since she passed on. So, Veronica started making candy.”

“Your mom was named Pammy?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s what Veronica called the candy,
as a tribute to her grandmother,” Cassie said. “Mom was a great
cook and so is—was—Veronica. She started selling the candy at the
county fair and at farmers’ market. She got some of the local
stores to carry it and she even set up a website to sell it
online.”

“Sounds like she was working hard at building
a business,” I said.

“Mostly, she wanted money to finish college,”
Cassie said. She shifted uncomfortable and glanced away.
“Veronica’s mother wasn’t in a position to pay for her
education.”

I remembered then that Andrea had told me
Veronica’s mom had health problems, and figured it must have been
something major—and expensive.

“I guess things improved when Patrick came
into Veronica’s life,” I said.

Cassie smiled. “Patrick is a sweetheart. At
first, we had no idea who he was or that his family owned so many
of the businesses around the county. He never let on how much money
he had. When he and Veronica first laid eyes on each other, it was
love at first sight. Everybody knew it. It was the sweetest
thing.”

It did sound sweet, and I couldn’t help but
wonder what that would feel like.

“Patrick had the wherewithal to build a
business around the candy Veronica was making,” Cassie went on.
“Imagine, our mother’s candy being sold all across the
country.”

“Your family must have been thrilled,” I
said.

“You’d think,” Cassie said. “Everybody was so
happy and so proud, except for Renée. She thought that since it was
Mom’s recipe, all of her children should get a share of the
profits.”

“Did everyone feel that way?” I asked.

“No, of course not. Any one of us could have
picked up that recipe and made the candy. All of us knew about it.
We’d even talked about how much we missed Mom’s candy,” Cassie
said.

She seemed to get lost in her memories for a
minute, then went on.

“Besides, none of us knew how to build a
business. We didn’t have any idea how to get started, keep it
going, or turn it into something big. Never mind that none of us
had the money it would take to get the whole thing up and
running.”

“Patrick could do that,” I said.

“Veronica and Patrick were very generous.
They gave everybody money and helped out any way they could. Why,
they paid for this trip, every dime of it. But that just made
things worse when we got here and a limousine picked us up. Then we
pulled up to this mansion. All Renée’s talked about was how
Veronica’s life out here is so grand, and the rest of us are stuck
in that same small town we’ve always lived in.”