Gypped (13 page)

“Just tell me if he went to prison.”

“No. He never got caught.”

“I’ll read it tonight.”

Imogene sighed. “I love to read.” She pulled another book from her bag. “Next up is the latest by Nora Regan Reilly.”

Petunia looked up quickly. “I have a signed—” she started to say, then cut herself off by turning away and pretending to sneeze. “I ssssheww! I sshewww! Oh, dear, excuse me.”

“I thought you were going to say you had a signed copy.”

“Where would I get a signed copy?”

“Beats me. The book is brand new.”

Petunia twisted the cap on a bottle of nail polish and placed it back on her supply cart. “Ready for your manicure. Do you have to use the ladies’ room first?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Be careful stepping down from that chair.”

“I feel rude for not chatting with you but I had to finish that book,” Imogene said, reaching for Petunia’s hand.

Petunia had no choice. “Let me help you.”

Imogene squeezed Petunia’s fingers as she stepped down from her perch. “And how are your girls?”

“Fine, thanks,” Petunia answered, then began rolling her cart toward the front of the salon.

Imogene followed, struggling to keep her feet from falling out of paper slippers wide enough for an elephant’s hoof.

“My girls both work so hard to help the underprivileged in one way or another,” Petunia said when they reached her station. “I don’t know where they get that urge. Must be a recessive gene that goes back to the Dark Ages.”

Imogene laughed. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You have other talents.” She glanced around, then whispered. “For one, you’re the best manicurist I’ve ever had. The best!”

Petunia waved her hand. “Imogene, stop.”

“I’m dead serious! Before I forget, let me give you that book.” She reached into her purse. “As a matter of fact, you can keep it.”

“Really?”

Imogene nodded as she pressed the book into Petunia’s hands. Together they looked down at the cover.

A drop-dead gorgeous man was rushing through an airport bare-chested, his laptop under his arm.
The Chiseled Chiseler.
“He’s certainly on the go,” Petunia observed. “Thank you very, very much.”

“You’re welcome very, very much.”

This time it was Petunia who held the book close to her heart. “Your kind gesture means the world to me. You have no idea.”

“I think I do. Reading something we love can have a powerful effect on our lives.”

Petunia smiled. That’s exactly what I’m hoping.

O
n Friday morning, high-ranking police officers from around the country gathered in the auditorium of the Los Angeles Police Department headquarters. Speakers who were experts on bank robberies, art theft, and kidnapping shared their knowledge about the latest developments in fighting and solving those crimes. Everyone was on their own for lunch and instructed to be back by 1:30.

Jack and several of his comrades walked a few blocks to a casual restaurant that was known for great hamburgers. The place was packed with workers from offices nearby and they were lucky to find a table for five. The patrons were relaxed and talking loudly, clearly excited that the weekend was about to begin.

When Jack’s group was seated, they quickly placed their orders, then started to unwind.

Sergeant Derek Wentley, who lived in San Diego, leaned forward. “Jack, when they were talking about kidnapping this morning it reminded me of how you met your wife. I still can’t get over that.”

The others laughed. They all knew the story.

“One of the perks of the job,” Jack said, enjoying the friendly banter with his comrades.

Angela Cruz, one of the highest-ranking female officers in LA, put down her water glass. “I had to go online to find my husband! When guys hear you’re a cop they get nervous.”

“If anyone can handle you, Victor can,” Jack observed.

“Have you and Regan decided yet where you’re going this weekend?” Angela asked.

“Actually, we haven’t.”

“No rush,” she retorted.

Jack smiled. “We’ll get in our rental car tomorrow morning and either go north or south.”

“Hey, speaking of rental cars, did you hear about the luxury car rental business that went under?” Derek asked, not waiting for an answer. “They were renting out Bentleys and Ferraris. Problem is, car thieves showed them fake ID, used fake credit cards, and drove off with wheels worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Never to be seen again.”

“I bet they knew which way they were going,” Angela said. “Right to a seaport and onto a waiting ship. Those cars were sailing across the sea in no time flat.”

“There’s great technology now to protect people from car theft,” Jack observed, “but it doesn’t work if you hand over the keys. Or leave the car running. A couple of years ago we had a rash of car thefts in New York during a brutally cold winter. Everyone turned on their cars in the morning to warm them up, then headed back into the house. For most people, that was fine, but not on the South Fork of Long Island. When many Long Islanders stepped back out, well. . . .” Jack made a face.

“Were they caught?”

“Yes. A group of college kids got cocky about stealing cars because it seemed so easy. One of them became violent when
the cops showed up at his dorm to arrest him. He was an honors student on scholarship. Car theft is bad enough, but a further investigation revealed he was dealing a lot of hard drugs.”

“I’m not surprised he got violent,” Angela said. “When he was arrested, he was terrified that big old light shining on him was about to get brighter. But once you’re in the spotlight, baby, that’s it. And people who’ve got a lot to lose are the scariest. They’ll do anything to make sure that spotlight doesn’t come near them. And I mean anything.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Cruz,” Derek quipped. “Our next speaker who will tell us something we’ve never heard of is—”

Angela cackled. “Sorry. I know you know. But we just had a case where a guy went after a woman he was afraid was going to blow his cover. She knew too much. It was bad. That’s all I’ll say. B A D.”

The waitress arrived with their food. As she was serving, Jack tried to push back an uneasy feeling about Regan. He always worried about her, especially since her job was to find truths about people they didn’t want uncovered. But the sudden realization that he knew nothing about this old friend she’d stayed with made him tense. And he hadn’t even heard her voice today. I’ll call her right after we get out of here, Jack thought. Everything will be fine. And as of tonight, it’ll be just the two of us.

But he still couldn’t shake the nagging sense that somehow that wasn’t going to happen.

I
’m sorry,” Zelda said when Regan walked back into the room. “I fell back asleep. Feeling this way is awful, but I think I know what caused it. I spoke to the client I had lunch with yesterday. He’s sick, too. We both had cheesesteak.”

“I guess that’s good news,” Regan said. “I’m glad you slept. Norman and I chatted. I told him I dropped off the knife at the police department.”

“You did!”

“Yes, on my way here. Zelda, it’s important to keep your door locked.”

“I promise we will.”

“Norman showed me the papers he picked up at your apartment regarding the charity and this house.” Regan sat in the chair by the bed. “There’s no information on-line about
Healthy, Healthier, Healthiest.
I did a search on my iPad and couldn’t find anything.”

“It’s a new charity, but still, it should be listed somewhere! Could that mean it’s a fake?”

“Not necessarily; but it’s odd. We don’t have to talk about that now. I know you want to focus on Bobby Jo.”

“I do, but if
Healthy, Healthier, Healthiest
isn’t legitimate, I want to know what’s going on. Who are the people running it?
Where is the money going? And how did they get this house for the silent auction?”

Regan took a notebook and pen out of her purse. “Let’s start at the beginning. When was the first time you heard about the charity?”

“August. I received a letter in the mail inviting me to a kickoff for an exciting new charity that was set up to donate money for medical research on nutrition. The cocktail party was the Thursday after Labor Day. I remember because I already had plans. A friend of mine was in a play and it was opening night. But the play didn’t start until eight o’clock. I thought I’d buy a ticket to the cocktail party and stop by when it started. I did that and only stayed fifteen minutes. Just enough time to place a bid for this house.”

“Where was the party?”

“In an old building on a side street, near Santa Monica. It was a big open space. Not glamorous in the least.”

“Were many people there?”

Zelda shook her head. “There were two young girls at the door with a list of names. Inside a handful of people were standing together deep in conversation. I went over to the bar and ordered a club soda. I tried to make small talk with the bartender but he was still setting up. So I busied myself looking at the silent auction items.”

“Did you talk to anyone else?”

“Not really. When I was reading about each item, a young girl who was probably in her early twenties was also checking them out. She said that she would have loved to bid on this house, but the minimum was a thousand dollars and she couldn’t afford it. I remembered those days well, and thought, now I can afford it! And it’s for a good cause. So I put my name down for a grand. I also bid on dinner at a couple of restaurants. Then I’d had
enough of all that socializing, and I left. The next day I was shocked to get the call that I’d won the house.”

“Who called you?”

“A woman named Melanie. She was really nice and thanked me profusely. She said they are trying very hard to get the charity off the ground but it’s difficult because there are so many good causes for people to choose from. She asked if this week would work for me to use the house and I said yes. I knew it was around the time of my father’s birthday and thought maybe he’d want to come down to celebrate by staying in a mansion in the Hollywood Hills. Huh! By this time, Bobby Jo was glued to his side and I figured she’d come along as well. But she thought a trip for two to Vegas would be more exciting. A trip I end up paying for. Lucky me. I don’t see my father on his birthday, and she’s still coming to the house.”

“Did you speak to Melanie again?”

“No. She e-mailed me and sent the keys. They arrived the day before I was coming here.”

“Didn’t someone meet you here to show you around?”

Zelda shook her head.

“You just showed up and put the key in the door?”

“Yes. Thank God I have Norman.”

“It’s crazy. What if these people, whoever they are, accuse you of taking a painting or an antique that they claim is missing after you leave that wasn’t here when you arrived?”

Zelda looked at her. “Does anything around here look like it’s worth stealing?”

Regan laughed. “No, but still. There’s such a thing as a walk-through. When you check out of a hotel they want to know if you took a candy bar from the minibar since the last time they inspected it.”

“I’m such an idiot,” Zelda said.

“No, you’re not,” Regan said firmly. “But now that you have deep pockets you have to be careful.”

“I hope in the end I’ll be glad I struck it rich,” Zelda said, with a sense of foreboding.

“Of course you will,” Regan said. “Your life has changed dramatically. It takes getting used to.”

“I wouldn’t have had these problems if I’d won the twenty-five thousand dollars on
Puzzling Words.
That money would have thrilled me and I could have handled it. It would have made my life better in a much simpler way.”

“Zelda! You’re going to be fine. You know what? I bet this house belongs to a long-lost cousin of someone involved in the charity who was probably too embarrassed to be here when you walked in.”

“And saw the expression on my face.”

“I’m sure there’s a simple explanation. The people who worked on the event were probably trying to think of anything that would make money. You know, this place could really be beautiful. It’s just neglected.”