Shopaholic to the Rescue (35 page)

Cyndi clearly hasn’t recognized Suze either from their brief previous encounter. Which isn’t surprising, as Suze has been transformed from a desperate-looking girl with lank hair and shadowy face into a society lady with a chignon, full makeup, and a cream bouclé dress with humongous pearl choker. Ulla, meanwhile, is looking exactly as she did when I first met her in Las Vegas and is sketching Cyndi in charcoal.

Cyndi is all rosy in the face, and her eyes are bright, so I guess I’ve missed the bit where Danny told her he’d seen her photo in the society pages of magazines and greatly admired her style.

“Housekeeping?” I mutter, practically in a whisper.

“Oh, hi,” says Danny, sounding irritated. “This really isn’t a good time for us.”

“Sorry, sir,” I mumble. “Shall I come back?”

“Maybe just, like, polish that screen?” He points to the wide-screen TV on the wall. “It’s filthy.”

It’s filthy because we smeared it with oil, earlier on. I hastily head over to it and start spraying on glass cleaner. As I rub away, my ears are almost tingling with desperation to hear the conversation behind me.

“So, as I said, Cyndi,” Danny continues, “I would love to give you this jacket, which I feel encapsulates your style.”

“Oh my!” Cyndi seems overcome. “For me? Really?” She pauses, the jacket half on. “You know, when I got your assistant’s email, I couldn’t believe it. I mean, Danny Kovitz wants to meet
me
?” She peers over at Ulla’s drawing. “Oh, that’s
too
flattering.”

“Not at all,” says Danny. “Ulla draws all my muses.”

“Muses?” Cyndi looks even more overcome. “Me, a
muse
?”

“For sure!” Danny nods. “Now, go ahead, put the jacket on.”

As Cyndi puts on the jacket, Suze makes admiring noises.

“Very nice,” says Danny. “Very nice indeed.”

“So, you’re organizing a fashion show for charity?” says Cyndi, as she admires her reflection in the freestanding mirror we ordered from “Conference Accessories.”

“That’s right,” says Danny. “Fashion by me, Danny Kovitz, and hosted by Lady Cleath-Stuart of the British aristocracy. That’s why we got in touch with you.” He beams at Cyndi. “We felt sure that you, as a top socialite and philanthropist, would want to be involved.”

I can see Cyndi goggling at the name “Lady Cleath-Stuart,” not to mention Danny himself. As well she might! I mean, it’s a pretty starry lineup. But it had to be, to lure her here.

As I’m polishing the TV, I keep sneaking glances at Cyndi. And I can see why Corey’s smitten. She’s so
pretty
. Her skin is like a peach. She has these plump lips, which she keeps biting, and these wide innocent eyes. If I were a man, I’d probably fall in love with her too. I don’t blame Corey for being besotted.

And this is how we’re going to get him. Not by forcing him or threatening him, but by shaming him, in front of the one person in the world he cares about most.

“My husband knows Lord Cleath-Stuart, you know,” says Cyndi, as she adjusts the sleeves of the jacket.

“Absolutely,” says Danny smoothly. “That’s another reason we thought of you. Does your husband know you’re here today?” he adds casually.

“I didn’t say
exactly
what I was doing.” Cyndi colors slightly. “I said I was meeting friends. But he’ll be so excited to hear about it!”

“Good!” Suze beams at her. “Danny, why not show Cyndi the next outfit?”

I’ve heard enough. I give a final wipe at the screen, then dump my cloth back in my bucket and retreat into the corridor. I head next door to Ben, knock, and shuffle in.

“Housekeeping,” I murmur, but no one even responds, so I start randomly wiping the TV screen. Luke, Tarquin, Corey, and Elinor are all sitting around a conference table, and Corey is in the middle of some story involving a rifle and a bear. As he finishes, Luke and Tarquin burst into polite laughter, and Elinor inclines her head.

“But, Lord Cleath-Stuart, you must be quite a shot yourself!” says Corey, looking flushed in the face. “What with your grouse moors and so forth.”

“Absolutely,” says Tarquin. “Perhaps you’ll see for yourself one day.”

“Well!” Corey reddens still further. “Now, that would be an honor, your lordship.”

“And your wife?” inquires Tarquin mildly. “Would she like to visit England?”

“She would go
nuts,
” says Corey. “And, Mrs. Sherman, I must say…” He turns to Elinor. “Your invitation to the Hamptons is very kind.”

“Perhaps your wife would like an invitation to the Met Ball?” Elinor gives him a chilly smile. “I’m always happy to introduce my investment partners into society.”

“Now that…” Corey seems momentarily speechless. “That would make Cyndi’s
year
.”

I catch Luke’s eye and he gives me a tiny wink. OK. So far, so good.

I retreat from the room and pause for a moment, breathing hard. Right. Next stage. I must say, it would be a
lot
easier if we had video cameras, like in the real
Ocean’s Eleven
. But we don’t.

I hurry back to the little room, knock five times, which is our signal, and let myself in.

“It’s all going fine,” I say breathlessly. “Janice, you’re up.”

I pick up the vase of flowers that we ordered earlier and place it on a room-service trolley. (Luke found it on another corridor, and we just turned the tablecloth over.) My job was to establish that the conversation was going in the correct direction in each room. Which it is. Now Janice’s job is to give the signal: Move to the next level.

As she takes hold of the trolley, I see that her hands are shaking, and I turn to her in surprise.

“Janice, are you OK?”

“Oh, Becky,” she says desperately. “I wasn’t cut out for this.”

“For what?”

“For this!” Her voice rises in agitation. “High-level criminal hijinks!”

My heart sinks. We should
never
have shown
Ocean’s Eleven
to Janice. I think in her head she honestly believes she’s robbing the casino vault.

“Janice, this isn’t high-level criminal hijinks!” I say.

“It’s only a little heist, love,” says Mum soothingly.

“It’s not a
heist
.” I knock a fist to my head. Honestly. Does Mum even know what a heist is? “Janice, you’ll be fine.” I try to sound reassuring. “Just take the flowers into the room, put them down, and leave. OK?” I clasp her hand, but she flinches. “Look, I’ll come with you. It’s fine. It’s all good.”

I open the door for her, and she pushes the room-service trolley out. We start slowly progressing along the corridor, Janice trembling all the while. I had no
idea
she’d be so nervous. I should never have put her in the eleven. But I can’t change the plan now.

“Look, you see?” I say as we turn the corner. “Easy-peasy, we’re nearly there….”

“Where’s that going?” A nasal voice hits the back of my head.

What?

I wheel round to see a woman in the same braid-trimmed jacket as Mum. She has badly dyed black hair and is coming out of a room on the other side of the corridor. As she nears, she eyes the vase narrowly. “Which flower arrangement is that?” she demands. “I don’t recognize it.”

Oh for God’s sake.

“Er…not sure,” I say, as Janice seems incapable of speech.

“Who are you?” The woman squints at my badge.

“I’m Marigold,” I say confidently.

“Marigold?” Her eyes narrow further. “I thought she left.”

Honestly, what’s wrong with this woman? Why does she have to be so
suspicious
the whole time? I’m sure it’s not good for her health.

“Well.” I give a shrug, and the woman whips round to Janice.

“What’s your name?”

Oh no. Poor Janice. I turn to give her some moral support—and blink in shock. Janice is transfixed. I’ve never seen such terror on a face. Before I can even open my mouth, she’s collapsed on the floor.

Oh my
God
.

“Janice!” I cry in horror, and kneel down beside her. “What happened? Are you OK?”

She’s not even moving. This is bad.

“Janice!” I tug at her clothes and try to listen to her heartbeat.

“Is she breathing?” demands the black-haired woman.

“I don’t know!” I say furiously. “Let me listen!”

I put my ear to her chest, but I can’t tell if I’m hearing her heartbeat or my own pulse, so I rest my face against her mouth. I’ll be able to
feel
her breath, surely?

And the next moment I hear a watery whisper in my ear: “I’m acting, love. Like in the film.”

She’s…

What?

I don’t believe it.

This was
not in the plan
. I am so going to tell Janice off. But for now I’ll have to go with it.

“She’s unconscious!” I say dramatically, sitting back on my heels. “I think you should call a doctor. So, um…you stay with her and I’ll just quickly deliver this.”

I get up and grab the trolley. I need to get into the room with these wretched flowers. Danny and Suze need the signal. They’ll be wondering and not knowing what to do—

“Wait,” says the black-haired woman.

“Call the doctor!” I repeat urgently, and the woman glares back but gets out her phone and dials. “Juliana?” she says. “It’s Lori. Can you put me through to the health center?”

“Hey, Becky!” A cheery male voice hails me. “Becky, is that you? Over here!”

Argh. What
now
? My head turns instinctively before I can stop it—and it’s Mike, the guy from the roulette table at the Venetian. The one who didn’t want me to leave. He’s waiting for the lift about twenty yards down the corridor, wearing a blue suit and waving with a huge beam on his face. “How’s the winning streak?” he calls. “Hey, you really work here?”

I feel prickly all over.
Please shut up,
I think silently.
Please shut up.

“Becky?”
Lori gives me an evil look. Thankfully the lift doors close before she can question Mike.

“Isn’t that weird?” I give a shrill laugh. “Who
was
that man? He must have me confused with…I have no idea….Oh my God! Is she still
breathing
?”

As Lori glances down again at Janice, I practically gallop away with the trolley. I knock on the door of Jerry’s and enter without waiting for a reply. By now, Cyndi is wearing a full-length coat and turning this way and that in front of the mirror.

“He’s just naturally generous,” she’s saying earnestly. “You know?
Generous
. Like, he took my whole family on vacation last year, no expense spared. My mom, dad, my sister Sherilee…”

“He sounds amazing,” Suze murmurs.

“Flowers,” I say unnecessarily, and put them onto a side table. As I do so, I catch Suze’s eye and give her a tiny wink. She winks back, then addresses Cyndi.

“You know, Cyndi, I once heard about your husband’s generosity from someone else,” she says casually. “Have you ever heard of a man called…Brent Lewis?”

There’s silence in the room. I’m completely still, waiting for her answer.

“Brent Lewis?” Cyndi says at last, her brow wrinkling. “No, I don’t believe I have.”

“Oh, it’s a great story,” enthuses Suze. “A wonderful story. And the best thing is, Corey comes so
well
out of it. I can’t believe he hasn’t told you what happened!”

“Too modest, I’m sure,” puts in Danny.

“He
is
too modest!” Cyndi nods fervently. “I always tell him that. I say, ‘Corey, hon, shine your light!’ So what’s the story?”

“Well.” Suze beams. “It starts with the spring. You know the famous balloon spring that launched Corey’s business all those years ago?”

“Well, I’ve
heard
of it….” says Cyndi doubtfully.

They’re off. It’s all under control.

I back out of the room, close the door quietly, and draw breath. OK. So far, so good. Mum’s up next.

But what’s happened to Janice? I look in slight bewilderment at the empty floor. She was lying here a moment ago. And what about Lori? Has the doctor been already? Have they taken Janice away? What on earth—

Oh my God, there they are.

Lori is about ten yards down the corridor, walking slowly along with Janice leaning heavily on her arm. As though she can sense me watching her, Lori turns round and scowls.

“Hey, you!” she calls. “I want to talk to you!”

“Don’t stop!” moans Janice at once. “I need the ladies’! I feel very ill!” She clutches Lori’s arm harder. “Please don’t leave me! You’re all I have!”

I can feel an almighty giggle rising inside me. Janice is amazing!

“You!” barks Lori again, but I pretend I can’t hear and hurry the other way.

“Mum!” I gasp breathlessly as I reach our little room and fling open the door. (I can’t be bothered with signals anymore.) “It’s all going to plan, except Janice got a bit diverted. You ready?”

“Oh, love.” Mum looks apprehensive. “I’m not sure about this.”

“Not you too!” I say in exasperation.

I gave Mum and Janice the simplest possible jobs. And they’ve both lost their nerve!

“Becky, come in with me,” Mum begs. “I can’t do it on my own.”

“But I’ve already been in once! Corey will notice!”

This was my whole reason for having all of us play different domestic staff—so Corey wouldn’t suspect anything.

“No, he won’t!” says Mum. “Did he even notice you before?”

I consider for a moment. Actually, he probably didn’t. Men like Corey don’t notice the staff.

“All right.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll come in with you. And I’ll text Dad.”

I was so paranoid about Dad being spotted by Corey that I made him wait on a separate floor. But it’s safe now. It’s his time.

Mum and I take up our positions outside Ben, and a few moments later Dad comes striding up the corridor.

“All set?” he says to me.

“All going to plan.” I nod at the door. “He’s in there.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Dad looks at Mum with a kind of wry, incredulous smile and gestures at the closed door. “Can you believe we’re doing this? Of all the mad things Becky’s talked us into doing over the years…”