Two O'Clock Heist: A Rebecca Mayfield Mystery (The Rebecca Mayfield Mysteries Book 2) (24 page)

When she arrived back at Richie’s house with her Nordstrom’s bags, she found him in pajamas, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“I thought you’d be at work,” he mumbled groggily.

“It’s Saturday.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

She handed him the
San Francisco Chronicle.
“I saw it out on your front steps.”

“Thanks.” He went straight to Sports.

“I noticed you have bacon and eggs in the refrigerator,” she said. “Would you like some? I haven’t eaten yet and I’m hungry.”

He gawked at her. “Are you kidding?”

“I can fry an egg.”

“Sure you won’t burn down the kitchen?”

She opened a lower cabinet and took out a heavy frying pan. “Are you sure you want to go there?”

He chuckled, but then his laughter vanished. “On second thought, I did see a cooked prime rib in the refrigerator.” He studied her, then added. “For a minute, I thought I was in the wrong house.”

She put the frying pan on the cooktop and added some bacon slices as she remembered how excited she had been to do something nice for him for a change. Whatever had she been thinking, trying to prepare him a big dinner like some little Suzy Homemaker? “It was nothing,” she murmured, but feared her tone said otherwise.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” he said.

She met his gaze. “Me, too.” As she then turned her attention to breakfast, she told herself cooking bacon and eggs was a far cry from a big dinner.

The party would begin at two that afternoon, but Marlena assured them it would continue well into the night. Those who showed up to support the fund-raiser would leave early, and the fun lovers would party on.

As it came time to go, Rebecca put on her new purchases—a turquoise floral cotton print with turquoise high-heel sandals. She also had bought a small white clutch, large enough for her cell phone, badge and gun.

She walked out to the living room to find Richie dressed in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, khaki-colored slacks and brown loafers. Simple but elegant. Especially when he added a gold Piaget watch.

Richie walked around her, making her more uncomfortable with each step he took. Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer. “You hate it, right? It’s absolutely the wrong thing to wear today.”

“No. I was just looking for your tattoos.”

“Hah! If I have any, you’ll never know.”

“You’ve just put my imagination in overdrive. And, you should come up with reasons to wear dresses more often. You look beautiful.”

She was pleased, but said, “That, I’m not.”

He studied her a moment longer, his head slightly cocked and a small smile on his face. “Right. Who am I to judge?”

She didn’t know what to think. “Shall we go?”

“Wait.” He took a jewelry case off the coffee table. “These are my mother’s. She would want you to wear them.”

He opened it to a diamond pendant on a platinum chain, and matching earrings.

She gasped. “Are they real?”

“Silly girl.”

“I couldn’t possibly wear them. What if I lost an earring or something?”

“They’re insured. People at parties like this have an eye for real diamonds.”

She took the jewelry into the bedroom she was using, then removed the inexpensive pieces she wore, and used the mirror over the dresser to put on the earrings. Richie helped with the necklace’s clasp. She then brushed her hair back so that the diamonds could be seen.

It was as if someone had thrown a spotlight on her.

“Bellissima,”
Richie whispered. He stood behind her and looked at her in the mirror. Also peering into the mirror, her eyes met his. He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. “I think I’d much rather stay right here with you. Why share you with anyone?”

She smiled at that, and fingered the pendant. “Thank your mother for me … when you tell her that I wore these. But now”—she faced him—“we’ve got a job to do.”

o0o

Buffy and John Fillmore lived in a jaw-dropping, two-story Colonial style mansion near the water with a view of San Francisco. Rebecca and Richie were directed through a bright, open great room to the rear garden. Its lawn stretched nearly to the water’s edge. A full bar was set up near the house, while sprinkled throughout the garden were tables laden with food, and shaded by white canvas canopies.

Marlena found them and walked them through the crowd, introducing Richie as owner of Big Caesar’s in San Francisco and Rebecca as simply “his date.” Richie was pleasantly surprised by the number of people who had not only heard of, but had gone to his club. No one inquired as to how Rebecca made a living. They were all too discreet for that.

After a while, she excused herself and asked directions to the ladies room from their hostess, a friendly, attractive woman who looked no older than thirty, at most. Richie knew Rebecca was checking out the place, probably to find the most likely spot for the Fillmores to keep a safe.

As the day wore on, the number of guests dwindled, and several moved inside the house. More and more of them grew glassy-eyed, and it didn’t appear to be solely from liquor.

Richie was refilling his and Rebecca’s
non-alcoholic drinks when he froze at the guest who just entered.

He hurried back to Rebecca. “Keep out of the garden. Larry Wong is out there. I think it’s best if you two don’t see each other.”

“What in the world is Wong thinking, attending a party like this?” she asked.

“He’s certainly is a fish out of water here,” Richie said. “And he’s got to turn a blind eye to everything that’s going on. There are enough drugs here to make the state of Colorado jealous.”

“Nothing like inviting local law enforcement to make sure you don’t get arrested,” Rebecca murmured.

“I’ll try to see what he’s up to,” Richie said.

Rebecca frowned. “And I’ll keep an eye on the master bedroom. That wing of the house is off limit to guests, so I suspect it’s where the jewels are. The bedroom has a door, locked, that opens out of it to a patio on the far side of the house—perfect for sneaking in and out undetected. Plus, there’s no sign of added security in this house. I thought the Fillmores might have hired some with the jewelry thefts going on.”

“Not with the drugs here,” Richie said. “The Fillmores aren’t the type who would know crooked security guards to hire.”

On that note, Rebecca hurried to the wing of the house with the master bedroom, while Richie strolled out to the garden, drink in hand.

As he neared Wong, he glanced in his direction to find Wong eying him. “Ah, Detective Wong, how nice to see you. Do you remember me? Richard Amalfi.”

“Of course.” The two men shook hands.

“And where is your friend, the Inspector?” Wong asked
with a smile.

Richie
smirked. “This isn’t exactly her kind of party.”

Wong
’s smile vanished, and he made no reply.

Richie made small talk with Wong about their hosts, their beautiful home and many guests. Wong seemed so ill at ease, Richie finally asked, “Do you enjoy these parties?”

“Very much.” Wong was clearly lying. “It’s good to get to know people on a personal basis. My husband always encourages me to be more social.” He forced a laugh.

“Oh, is he here?” Richie asked.

“No. Jason rarely attends such things.”

“So, his name is Jason,” Richie said as if he and Wong were sharing a secret.

Wong smiled. “Jason Carlyle.”

“A nice name,” Richie said.

“I think so.” Wong beamed, clearly enjoying talking about his partner, but then he looked over the party. “Well, I’d better do some mixing. Be sure to tell Inspector Mayfield to let me know if she gets any good leads on the Larkin case.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Richie said with a phony smile. He watched Wong mingle with the other guests for a while, and then put in a call to Shay.

o0o

Rebecca stood in a guest bedroom with the door slightly ajar so she could keep an eye on the hall to the master. The lights were off in that wing of the house, and the sun had set, but there was some ambient light from the party. So far, the wing had remained completely quiet.

She saw the form of someone in the hallway, heading in her direction. She went on alert for a moment, but then relaxed. Even in minimal darkness she recognized that strut. “Richie,” she whispered.

He ducked into the bedroom and told her what little he had learned.

“Wong being here feels off to me.” Rebecca went back to the door, opening it a crack so she could watch the hallway.

“I agree.” Richie stood by the door jamb. “But do you think there will be a burglary? They don’t happen at every party.”

“True,” Rebecca said. “But this place is just begging to be robbed. It’s as if the Fillmores don’t really care.”

“I’m sure they keep the most valuable jewels in their bank, so who knows? Anyway, it might not yet be quite late enough yet for the robbers,” Richie whispered. “We could kill some time, and we’d never even have to leave th
e bedroom.”

“Just go away.” She couldn’t help but smile. “I was surveilling quite fine before you … shush!”

Rebecca stooped as she watched so Richie could also see what was going on.

A woman walked slowly down the hall. They could tell she was wearing a dress and high heels, and seemed to be carrying a drink along with a large tote bag. She might have been a guest who was lost, or looking for a bathroom.

The woman didn’t try any of the doors, but went directly to the master bedroom. When she reached it, she looked back down the hall, then quietly slipped inside, shutting the door behind her.

“Do we go in?” Richie asked.

“Give her time to open the safe … if she’s the thief. If not, she could always say she went in to use the master bathroom or something.”

They waited five minutes and then tiptoed down the dark hallway.

Rebecca turned the clasp on her clutch purse to take out her Glock.

“Stop right there!” a voice ordered.

They both froze, but turned their heads towards the sound, watching as a tall figure eased himself away from the wall and walked towards them.

“Your handbag,” he said. “Put it on the floor and both of you back off.”

Rebecca did as he asked, still trying to make out who he was. Richie, beside her, also backed away. The gunman kept aim on them as he picked up the bag, opened it, and put the gun in his waistband, her phone in his pocket, and then dropped the bag to the floor and kicked it under a small hall table.

“You,” he waggled the gun towards Richie. “Open the door.”

“Take it easy with that thing,” Richie said as he did as asked.

The woman who had first entered now stood in front of an open wall safe, flashlight in her mouth as she filled her tote with jewelry. She then took hold of the flashlight, shut the safe, and turned saying, “It’s a good haul. Let’s … who the hell are they?”

As she pointed the flashlight at Rebecca and Richie, she illuminated the area around them.

“Well, if it isn’t the newlywed,” Richie said. “Jason Carlyle. I was thinking it might be you.”

“How do you know me?” he demanded.

“Larry keeps a
wedding photo on his desk. Real cute. I wonder if he knows about you and her.”

“Although,” Rebecca added, “your hair is considerably longer now, and the mustache is new.
But now we know you’re the person who met with Karen Larkin just before she was murdered.”

“Who are these people?” the woman cried. “any why did you bring them in here?”

It was the voice that gave her away.

Rebecca stared at her in shock. She was the flower vendor from Gate 6 Road—the woman who kept warning her to stay away, to get her nose out of Karen’s murder.
Now that she had lost the sunglasses, wore an expensive yellow dress, and her brown hair was pulled back into a low pony tail instead of hidden in a scarf, Rebecca saw that her face was round and flat, and she was somewhat overweight.

“She’s a cop. They were watching as you entered the bedroom,” Carlyle replied, then turned to Rebecca and Richie. “But you two aren’t the only ones who watch. I saw you both at the party. I had looked up Mayfield’s photo when you started hanging around Larry—the newspaper doesn’t do you justice, Inspector. I watched you come to this wing, and knew what you were up to. You think you’re so smart, but you didn’t notice me, did you?”

He smirked, then continued. “I could have stopped this theft, stopped Simone from entering the bedroom, but I thought, why bother? Why not get rid of the problem, right here, right now.”

He took zip ties from his pocket. “Simone, bind their hands tight behind their backs. We need to get them away from this place.”

Richie shook his head at Rebecca, the look he gave her clearly indicating she was not to fight them. She didn’t get it. Did he have a death wish she hadn’t known about? His gaze was stern. She held her hands behind her back and let them be bound, hoping he knew what he was doing.