The Case of the Angry First Wife

by Melodie Campbell

  Ritz had a late-model Ducati. Probably a fighter jet couldn’t catch up to her.

  “So it’s settled,” said Kitty. “Ritz will break into the house while we keep the owners busy at the charity gala.”

  Settled. Right. Which was more than I could say for my stomach.

  We drank the rest of the wine. It didn’t help with the stomach. When we wrapped up the business meeting, Kitty suggested I stay behind to discuss last-minute gala details. As soon as Ritz left, I blurted out my misgivings.

  “Sometimes that girl scares the crap out of me,” I said.

  Kitty cocked her head. Her fluffy hair bobbed. “Strange thing. Seeing as you are the one she looks up to and tries to copy.”

  That startled me. “What are you talking about?”

  “Come on, Del. Ritz followed you around like a grumpy puppy all through school.”

  More like a leech attached to my leg. But I didn’t say that out loud.

  “Ever since you pulled off that caper with the nuns, you had her undying devotion.”

  “Oh that,” I said. “I didn’t actually mean for the fire trucks to come. I just sort of got carried away.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Kitty, poking a stubby finger in my direction. “You saved her bacon—and did it in such a way that no one ever figured it out. What’s more, you never boasted about it. That’s the sort of class Ritz admires.”

  I harrumphed and shifted my butt on the bar stool. Class. Don’t think I’ve ever heard that word and my name in the same sentence. Class is not what gets you suspended from school, if you get my drift.

  I thought about Ritz on the drive home. My uncomfortable feeling of doom came down to one question. Why did I distrust Ritz to pull off this heist on her own?

  Was it me? Was I harboring a control issue? Usually I was the mastermind of every job we did. That’s the way it had worked in the past. And usually those jobs came off without a hitch.

  Okay, there was that one unfortunate incident with the Chihuahua and the stripper. But truly, that was an anomaly. He looked like a woman from a distance. Almost anyone could have made that mistake.

  So why was I nervous about this necklace heist? It was weird. Something about it didn’t feel right to me. Couldn’t for the life of me figure out what.

  But Kitty was keen, and I cared a lot about Kitty. She was the best relative a girl could have. She’d held my hand and taken away the gun when my last fiancé cheated on me. Then she grabbed my arm when I was about to throw the ring off the Burlington Skyway bridge.

  “Be smart,” she had insisted, prying the emerald-cut diamond from my fist. “It drives them crazy when you sell their rings for 10 percent of what they paid.”

  Kitty was a pro, all right. And if Kitty wanted to see this through, I would tromp along at her side, fighting off alligators till the very end.

  Ritz was a different story. I didn’t think she was caught up much in the moral or philosophical issues of what we did. That girl just liked danger. And even if I was de facto the leader of this pack, Ritz was the only one of us who was truly badass.

  Enough of being mother. I was simply going to have to let the badass kid do the job on her own.

  SIX

  About the Black Cat gig…

  Most of the stuff we do as the B-Team is night work. This is a good thing, because I actually have a day job. Believe it or not, it involves cats. And dogs. And the occasional rabbit or ferret.

  I work for the local animal shelter. I’m their event planner and fundraising coordinator. Kitty is on the board of directors. She is also a major sponsor of the shelter. All of us who work there help care for our beloved animals until they are adopted. But it takes more than love and affection to support the animals that find their way to our shelter. It takes money. And money is where I come in.

  The Black Cat Masquerade is our biggest fundraiser of the year. It’s also the place for the glitterati to be seen. Partygoers dress to the nines and pay a nice ticket price to attend the event. The mayor comes, and so do television personalities who live locally. Everyone wears masks.

  This year the event was being held in Paloma Mansion, down on the lake. It’s a gorgeous 1920s mansion that was previously owned by a long-ago relative of dubious repute. He willed it to the town. I come from a long line of dubious relatives trying to buy their way into that big angel fest in the sky.

  It was Thursday night. My event team was in place, and the band Soulidified was playing soul music. I watched from the huge foyer as Mercedes and BMWs dumped their passengers off at the end of the circular driveway.

  My pintsized assistant, Alison, stepped up to my side. “The decor is brilliant,” she said. “Everyone says so.”

  I gazed around at the paintings of sparkly masks that lined the hall. The glittery masked-ball theme continued throughout the main ballroom and upstairs to the silent-auction room. Candlelight washed the walls with a romantic glow. Mirrored vases reflected the shimmering silver fabric that topped the tables. The whole effect was one big wow.

  “We’ve sold out,” said Alison. She beamed with excitement. “It’s going to be a huge success, Del. You’ll see.”

  “Cross your fingers,” I said. It was expensive to put on these sorts of events. A lot like a posh wedding. Much of our success depended on the money raised by the silent auction. We had received donated gifts from stores and businesses in town. With luck, the people who came tonight would bid generously on those items. Our shelter animals depended on it.

  I put on my biggest smile and did the welcoming-hostess thing for the next half-hour. I shook hands with a television personality from the Weather Network. Also with the mayor and his wife. I even got to see the evil woman at the center of our current job—Cindy Morton, wife number two, in the flesh. She was on the arm of her rich, older husband, wearing a cut-to-there gown. I kept my eye on her from a distance. If they started to leave, I would think of a reason to keep them here.

  Servers were bringing out the mini beef Wellingtons and shrimp tempura. I had just climbed the stairs to the auction room when my cell phone vibrated.

  I glanced down at the text. It was from Ritz.

  Problem call me

  Call her? On a cell phone? While she was in the middle of a heist? What the hell was going on?

  I texted back, ok.

  Then I turned to Alison. “I have to run outside to make a phone call. It’s too noisy in here.”

  She nodded. “Go,” she said.

  I didn’t waste time. I made my way through the crowd, smiling at everyone but definitely showing I was in a hurry. Down the stairs I raced, then into the front hall and out the double doors to the circular drive, where the drivers of several posh cars waited patiently for their owners.

  I passed people smoking on the steps, gave them a cheery nod and then moved off far enough to get some privacy.

  Ritz answered on the first ring.

  “You wanna get over here,” she said.

  Okay, so she wasn’t dying. This wasn’t an emergency. I went from anxious to pissed in one second flat. I do that a lot where Ritz is concerned.

  “Ritz, I’m right in the middle of the event! I can’t leave.”

  “Get here. Find a way.” She clicked off.

  What the hell? I stared at the phone in my hand. Then I swore and dialed again.

  “Why me? Why not Kitty?”

  “You’ll see when you get here. Just do it.”

  Click.

  Once again I was left staring at the phone in my hand.

  Damn that Ritz. Why did I let her boss me around like this?

  Leave now? Okay, I could put Alison in charge of operations, and get Kitty to cover for me in the PR department. It would only take me five minutes to get there. Five there, five back and hopefully only five
with Ritz. I could always say I had to run back to the office for something.

  I slipped back into the mansion, gave commands to both Alison and Kitty, and ran out with my purse.

  The Mustang was parked around the back. I got in and started her up. I wasted no time pulling onto the driveway and passed several cars coming in.

  All the way there, I was thinking madly. Ritz said there was a “problem.” What could be the problem? If it was cops, she would have said so.

  Coyotes? Did she run into a coyote? But then, why me? Why ever would she need me specifically?

  I turned into the familiar driveway. The house was mainly in darkness, except for a dim light coming from one of the far rooms. As soon as I got out of the car, I texted Ritz.

  I’m here.

  Then I waited.

  House next door. Left side. Kitchen.

  More bafflement on my part. Why was she next door?

  I left the car and walked across the grassy expanse to the house on the left. It was equally big, although not as in-your-face about it.

  Kitchen. Ritz had said kitchen. I assumed that meant she was in there, and I didn’t need to be careful or anything. Still, I tried not to draw attention to myself. No one had turned on the outdoor lighting, so the front of the house was dark. I moved swiftly up to the double front doors. One was unlocked. I pushed it open and made my way quietly down the dark hall to where the light originated.

  Ritz was in the kitchen. I could see her as I approached the doorway. She sat on a bar stool at the solid-oak kitchen island, swinging her short legs. “Want a beer?” she said, holding a brew up with one hand for me to see.

  I stared at her. She pointed to the other person sitting at the end of the island.

  “Holy crap on a stick,” I said.

  SEVEN

  The man across from me looked a lot like the guy Ritz had whomped when we botched the first burglary. You might even say he was one and the same. I stared at him. He nodded at me. Then he took a swig from his beer bottle.

  That freaked me out even more.

  I swung my gaze back to Ritz. “This had better be good, Ritz,” I said.

  She gestured at the counter.

  I looked down on the black granite in front of me. Particularly at the gun resting nicely on it.

  “Walther,” I said absently. “Not one of ours.” In the family, we own Glocks. A much superior weapon.

  “Nope,” said Ritz. “So here’s the thing. This is Canada, not Jersey. Give it a thought. Why would this dude be carrying?”

  “I’m all ears,” I said. “Why don’t you ask him? He’s sitting to the left of you, for some unfathomable reason.”

  Why wasn’t anyone telling me what was going on?

  “Call me Mac,” he said.

  “Is that your name? Or do you just like to be called that?”

  A thin grin stretched across his face. It didn’t reach his hard brown eyes. “Short for MacQuarrie. Like you don’t already know.” He leaned back and gave me the once-over. “You’re all grown up now, Red. It looks good on you.”

  I frowned. “You really want to open with that line? ’Cause I’m still on good terms with my brother and cousins.”

  Mac looked thoughtful. “So you do remember me.”

  “You don’t forget your first clumsy grope,” I said.

  He snorted. “I didn’t forget you either. Your brother gave me something to remember you by.” He pointed to his nose. Which wasn’t straight.

  I repeated his words. “Looks good on you.”

  Now he laughed. It was a deep, throaty laugh, far too attractive.

  “I forgot about your sassy mouth, Red.”

  My hair isn’t red. It’s auburn. No one has called me Red in years. It made me feel…sort of weird. Not sure if in a good way or bad.

  “What’s with the cat-suit getup?” he said.

  “Fundraiser. Ritz pulled me out of a gala I was running. And where I should be right now.”

  He nodded. “Of course. The Black Cat Masquerade. I saw it advertised. You look good in a cat suit. Turn around.”

  I gave him the finger.

  He laughed out loud.

  Ritz finally went to the fridge and came back with my beer. She handed it to me.

  “Uh, Ritz…” I handed it back to her. She made a grunting sound as she twisted the screw cap off. She shoved it back at me.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Mac watched this display. He seemed thoroughly amused.

  “So I have tender hands,” I said. I took a swig, swallowed and continued. “Balances out my hard heart.”

  Ritz snorted this time. “You, hard? You’re the one who had to save this dude from being eaten by coyotes.”

  “Coyotes?” Mac said. “In the city?”

  I cut in before this degenerated into something maudlin.

  “Well, this has been lovely, but now I have to scream. Will someone please tell me why we’re all sitting around this kitchen?” This very nice kitchen. In a very nice but totally strange house.

  “He’s okay, Del,” said Ritz. “He actually does work for Stella.”

  Mom? I nearly dropped the bottle. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

  “And he knows Uncle Vince.”

  I took a swig from the bottle and kept going. I didn’t stop until it was half empty. Then I lowered the bottle and wiped my mouth with the side of my hand. “Explain,” I said hoarsely. “Before I go nuts.”

  “This may take some time,” he said.

  I stared at him until my eyes went blurry. “Are you security or something? What exactly were you doing next door that night we tried to burgle the place?”

  Even more to the point, what was he doing here now? In fact, why were we in the house next door at all?

  “Security,” said Mac. “Most definitely. But not the other night.”

  “Crap,” I muttered. This wasn’t going to be good.

  Ritz snorted like a pug. “Wait for it.”

  Mac leaned back on the stool. “Simple, really. My parents live in this house. They’re up north for a week. I’m staying here to look after the place. I like to walk at night. I was just coming back when I saw you climb out of that window next door.”

  I gave a low whistle. “So that’s why you were out front.”

  Mac grinned again. It reminded me of a devilish kid. “Could have knocked me out with a marshmallow when you came climbing down that ivy. The woman next door has a loose reputation, according to my mother. Then I saw you. And you were most definitely a babe and a half. Were you visiting Cindy in the night? Is Cindy a lesbian? With her rep with men?”

  Ritz made that pug sound again. “Too funny. Especially with your rep.”

  “Can it,” I warned Ritz. Jeesh, that was all I needed right now. A regaling of my stupid relationships with men.

  I glared at her. “So what did you tell him?”

  “The truth,” she said. That didn’t help me. I didn’t know whether she was saying that to convince him or if she really had told him the truth.

  Luckily, she continued. “I told him we were retrieving a necklace that belonged to the first wife. A necklace that had been given to her by her grandmother. This one, in fact.” She reached into her pocket and held up something that blinded me with sparkle.

  Crap! Ritz had the necklace. And she had told Mac the truth. Which meant—

  “I was waiting for her when she came out of the house tonight,” Mac explained. He seemed to be reading my mind.

  All very nice, but where exactly did we stand now? Was Mac going to let us go scot-free?

  “You know Stonehouse Security?” he said.

  “I’ve heard of it,” I said. Of course I had. It was state of the art in the biz. My uncles
used Stonehouse to secure our warehouses and other operations.

  Ritz pointed a thumb at Mac. “That’s Stonehouse. In the flesh.”

  My jaw dropped.

  “My uncle started it. I recently took over when he retired,” said Mac.

  “So your uncle’s name is Stonehouse?” I had to ask.

  “No, it’s MacQuarrie, like mine. Quarry. Get it?”

  I groaned. Stonehouse. Stones are mined from a quarry. Somebody had a wicked sense of humor.

  “And I expect your little job tonight will garner me a new client tomorrow,” said Mac.

  Ritz grinned. “Hey! You should hire us. We break into houses. You can sell the owners better security after.”

  “Ritz,” I growled.

  “We should get a commission,” said Ritz. She hooted like an asthmatic donkey.

  “Out!” I said to her. “Now.” I put my beer bottle on the counter and stood up. I turned to Mac. “This has been very nice, but I really have to return to the gala I am running. Thank you for your hospitality. And your understanding. I hope we can return the favor someday.”

  He lifted his bottle in salute.

  I really hoped he was going to be understanding. I also hoped I didn’t have to return the favor. But what I really wanted was to get out of there before he called the police.

  I turned tail and made fast tracks back to the gala.

  EIGHT

  He didn’t call the police. Ritz and I remained unmolested by the boys in blue.

  I thought a lot about that over my coffee the next morning. Was Mac a supporter of vigilante justice, like I was? Did he approve of our trying to help people, even if it meant stepping outside the law a wee bit to do so?

  Or was his motive for keeping his mouth shut merely financial? If Mac was Stonehouse Security, then he had a lucrative client in my extended family. Probably it would be in his financial interest not to report us.

  Whatever the reason, I was relieved. But still wary.

  I spent the morning doing cleanup from the gala. It had been a great success but a lot of work. You wouldn’t believe how much has to be done after a big event. Decorations have to be stored. Bills have to be paid. Checks and cash from the silent auction have to be tallied. I worked hard with Alison in the office all day while our animal-care workers took care of the kennels.