13
The Detective had kept his word about the added patrols in my neighborhood, but it hadn’t done me any good. Within a few minutes, the two uniformed officers assigned to my area were at my apartment, ready to secure the scene. I waited for them in my car, not wanting to touch anything inside until they scoped things out. Finn came racing over right after them, no doubt ignoring all posted speed limits. I was happy, despite myself, to see him. By the time Detective Brandle joined us, we were a happy little party.
The police department didn’t have the resources to go all CSI on the place, but after ensuring the perpetrator was gone and dusting the door knob for prints, they let me survey the damage. My couch was turned over, with every cushion thrown about. The stuffing was even slashed out of one of them. I appreciated that my throw pillows were still intact, but they were about the only items that was spared. The kitchen was a disaster. Food and dishes had been dumped out of the cupboards all over the countertops. A vase filled with white roses was shattered on the floor. Water and glass glittered off the hardwood. At my desk, client records were thrown about, pages torn directly from my Beauty Bible and ripped in pieces. It was a disaster. My computer screen was sliced from corner to corner, and the glass desk it sat on had been cracked by something heavy, like a hammer. In my bedroom, it looked like my whole closet had been dumped out—shoes, clothes, and handbags thrown everywhere. And of course, my jewelry box had been ransacked.
I sifted through my jewelry box to see what was missing, only to find that the bastard had stolen my engagement ring. Not that I cared about the ring itself, but it was my financial safety net. Just one night before, I was thinking of selling the ring and using the cash to fund my new beauty business. Dinner with Eric had left me inspired. The three-carat canary diamond was spectacular, and was sure to bring a hefty price tag. Unfortunately, when it came to my past relationship, more money didn’t equate to more love. No way was my ex getting that beauty back, but now it was in the hands of someone else, who was sure to make a small fortune off it. I chastised myself for not keeping it someplace safer. Then again, I never thought someone would rob me. I guess you could say, lesson learned. A painful, gut-wrenching lesson.
Finn, who had kept silent up until that point, stepped back and asked, “What? What is it?”
“Nothing.” I slammed my jewelry box lid shut. I didn’t feel like talking about ex-fiancés with Finn at the moment.
In the bathroom, I stopped short. My entire makeup collection, and we’re talking drawers and drawers of lipstick, mascara, and eye shadow; had been smashed and dumped everywhere. Powders and creams stained the white soapstone countertops and bathroom rugs. Above the mess, scrawled on the bathroom mirror in red lipstick, were the words “NEXT TIME” with the picture of a smiley face with a bullet in the head. Of course, he had to ruin my favorite lipstick in the process.
“Oh, you’re right about next time,” I said. “Next time, you’d better pray I’m not home.”
I walked out to the kitchen. Detective Brandle and Finn were motionless behind me. With one swoop of my arm, I cleared off the kitchen counter. Corn flakes and chocolate candies rained down into the sink. Without a word, I got out a martini glass from the cabinet above the refrigerator and made myself a gin martini, taking a swig off the gin bottle before picking up the vermouth to add a splash to my glass. I offered the gin bottle to the gentlemen, but they both declined. Finn kept looking at me like I’d lost my mind. It was obvious he’d never seen me pissed off before.
I assessed the damage in my head. Next to the ring, it didn’t look like anything had been stolen. This was more of a seek-and-destroy mission—a way to get under my skin—or, rather, an attempt to try and scare me straight. I was betting a man was behind the break in, too, because no way could a woman rummage through my closet and not swipe at least one pair of heels or a handbag. Everyone knew what a diamond was worth, but designers were harder to price. I immediately thought of Delgado. If he really ran his business like the mafia, then this type of stunt seemed right up his alley. After all, the mafia never went after just the person. They played mind games—hurting your family, your business, and your livelihood before hurting you.
I took that minute to relay what Philip had told me about Roger and Delgado, to Detective Brandle.
“And he knows for certain Roger worked for Delgado?” Detective Brandle asked.
“He seemed certain of it to me,” I said.
“Excuse me.” The name Delgado sparked something within the detective. He was talking rapidly on his phone before he even made it out my front door. He looked like he hit pay dirt.
“Why don’t you stay at my place tonight and we can start cleaning up here in the morning?” Finn offered.
Fat chance of that, I thought. One, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, knowing the mess that awaited me; and two, I didn’t want to deal with Finn’s girlfriend - or whatever she was - banging on the door at seven AM. “I’m too keyed up to sleep. I’d rather tackle this now than wait until morning.” I swirled my martini and took a drink.
Finn went to stay something but caught my eye. He must’ve seen something to make him change his mind. I was in no mood to argue. “Okay, if you’re sure, I’ll go and get supplies to fix your door. You can’t stay here without a front door that locks,” he said.
I downed the rest of my drink while he talked. “Good thinking,” I said. “And pick up some more gin while you’re at it, and maybe some chocolates.” Who knew how long this night was going to last?
Detective Brandle stood outside, talking on his phone while Finn was gone. I ignored his conversation and tackled the mess instead. It was amazing how productive you could be with a martini in one hand and a trash bag in the other. I didn’t even bother sorting the dishes. If they were chipped, they got tossed. I threw out all the food from the open cupboards too. I just couldn’t trust it. I worked in a flurry because I knew that if I even stopped for just a minute, I’d either have a breakdown, or end up breaking something. Neither option would help me put my apartment back in order.
As I moved on to the bathroom, I couldn’t help but feel grateful that I was a Beauty Secrets consultant; otherwise, it would’ve cost me a fortune to replace all the makeup. I shoveled the broken powdery shadows and smashed lipsticks into the trash with a dust pan. Turns out, that was the easy part. Getting the twelve-hour lipstick stain off the bathroom mirror was the challenge. Part of me was proud that my product lived up to its claim. The other part was deeply annoyed at the smudged letters that refused to budge. As a last-ditch effort, I dipped a wash rag into my martini glass and gave that a go. Turns out, alcohol did the trick. The lipstick stain disappeared and left me with a streak-free shine. I started to think that I should clean with a martini more often.
Finn came back as I was righting the couch and fluffing the remaining throw pillows. I couldn’t bring myself to tackle my bedroom. That task required mental clarity, which I currently lacked. “Here, I wasn’t sure which one you wanted.” Finn tossed me a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels, and put a couple of candy bars next to a new bottle of gin on the kitchen table. He bought the expensive kind too. Tonight, it was top shelf all the way.
“Thanks.” I tore open the bag of pretzels and munched happily away on the sweet-and-salty snack. It was the perfect complement to my cocktail.
Finn strapped on a tool belt and got to work fixing my door. I tried to ignore how hot he looked in his contractor get up, but it was hard. It must have been the liquor kicking in. To keep my mind busy, I started gathering client papers and tried to make sense of my Beauty Bible. First thing tomorrow, I was calling my insurance agent and then buying a new computer. It was time for me to digitalize my files and back them up online somewhere. I was glad I had made plans with Eric to tackle the first step on Saturday.
“Detective Brandle left?” I’d just noticed the detective was no longer outside the door.
“Yeah, he left when I got back.” Finn had busted
out the big guns and was now drilling a hole above the new lock he had installed. “Deadbolt,” he added when he saw my expression. Good thing he couldn’t read my thoughts because I was actually thinking, You can bring power tools over to my place anytime.
I took a break from taping and alphabetizing my invoices, and stood up to survey the room. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. “Can I get you anything?” I shouted over the drilling.
Finn pointed to a large fountain pop on the counter. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He did have a thing for cola. I went to the kitchen anyway and rummaged in the freezer. Apparently, the burglar didn’t feel the need to trash my tater-tot stash. I threw a layer of the frozen fried potatoes onto a cookie sheet and put them in the oven. I thought about making another martini while I waited, but I’d already had one too many. I filled a glass up with water from the tap instead.
“That should do it.” Finn double checked that the deadbolt and lock were properly working. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay at my place, or I could stay here?” And here was the problem with answering Finn’s question. I wanted him to stay, but I shouldn’t have. I should’ve still been pissed about the girl-at-the-door incident, and demanded answers, or at least asked the guy about her. I didn’t feel like being responsible though. My mind was full of all sorts of dirty thoughts. We could do it on the couch, the bed, the kitchen table… heck, I’d take him on the living room floor, given the chance. Gah!
Finn had to leave, and maybe take the gin with him. No way could I keep my hands off him if he spent the night, which is exactly why he couldn’t stay. Well, not until I sorted out the whole mystery-woman thing, and that wasn’t a conversation I felt like having tonight, for a few reasons. One: if she did turn out to be his girlfriend, that would just be too crushing. And, two: if she wasn’t, well, I didn’t want to be drunk the first time Finn and I hooked up. Then there was the whole Eric situation. I knew I didn’t like him like that, but he didn’t know it. It didn’t feel right moving on with someone else until Eric knew where we stood. I tell you, my love life was like feast or famine.
Finn was probably thinking I was mental because it took way too long for me to respond with, “I’m good.”
Gah again! Did that sound as pathetic I think it did? I tried not to sigh, but I wasn’t very successful. I shook my head to clear it, and attempted to elaborate, “I mean, thanks for the offer, and for fixing my door. I doubt whoever did this is going to come back tonight though. I imagine they think I’d be too scared to hang around,” I said.
“Then that person’s an idiot,” Finn replied, with a slight smile.
Aw, crap. What a sweet thing to say. Finn really had to go before one of us made a move, and I wouldn’t be able to say no.
“Listen, I’m going to eat my tater tots and go to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow or something, and maybe we can hang out.” And I can finally ask you about the mystery woman.
Finn looked just as disappointed as I felt, but he managed to say, “Sure, that sounds good.” I felt bad, but that was the best offer he was going to get. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be up for a while,” he said on his way out.
“Thanks, I will.” I locked the deadbolt behind him, and stood at the door for a minute, feeling conflicted. I didn’t want him to leave, but I knew I made the right decision. Being a responsible adult sucked.
It was a good thing I had a whole cookie sheet of tater tots to eat, because it was going to be a long time before I’d be able to settle down and think about anything other than Finn and that damn tool belt.
* * *
“Sweet sugar,” I mumbled in my sleep. “Leave me alone.” I had fallen asleep on the couch that night, not wanting to mess with my room, with my cell phone a little too close by. The annoying ringtone echoed in my ear. I swatted the phone onto the floor. It clattered on the hardwood and woke me up the rest of the way. Lord help me, if it was Mrs. J....
It wasn’t. It was Eric. “Ziva, you were right,” he said when I answered.
“Right about what?” I asked.
“Roger. I stayed up all night piecing together his files. He was bankrupt, or headed that way, until he started padding his accounts.”
“What do you mean?” I wasn’t awake enough for this conversation. What time was it anyway? My head was screaming for ibuprofen.
“Roger was stealing from his clients. Well, actually, just one—Vincent Delgado,” Eric said.
“Wow, wait, what? He was stealing from Delgado?” I wanted to make sure I understood what Eric was saying. I’d definitely be nursing a hangover today.
“You got it,” he said with excitement in his voice.
“That’s crazy. Why would he do that?” I asked.
“I know it is. I don’t understand it either. Maybe Detective Brandle can figure it all out. I wanted to call you first though, and thank you for the tip. I would’ve never considered Roger’s personal finances if you hadn’t said something.”
“But you knew Roger worked for Delgado,” I said.
“I did, and I know what you’re thinking. I should’ve told the police first; but honestly, I forgot about it. Delgado Enterprises was a private contract between Roger and Vincent. I had nothing to do with it. Poor excuse, I know, but it’s the truth.”
“Well, his reputation sure fits the bill, and it seems like he had more than enough motivation if Roger was stealing from him. Maybe it really is all that simple.” Even as I said the words, I didn’t quite believe them. Something was off, but I couldn’t figure out what. Maybe after I got rid of my headache and ate some breakfast, I’d be able to make better sense of it.
“Listen, I’m going to call Detective Brandle right now, but are we still on for tomorrow night?” Eric asked.
Tomorrow night. Digitizing my Beauty Bible. That’s right. I so wasn’t feeling it, but knew it needed to get done. Besides, it’s not like it was a second date. Just a business meeting. I could even draft up my business plan before then and give it to him to review.
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Seven o’clock?” I asked.
“That’s what I was thinking, unless a different time works better for you.”
“No, seven’s fine. I’ll see you then.” I hung up with Eric and took inventory of my apartment in the daylight. It didn’t look too bad, until I entered my bedroom. I had a lot of work to do. I found myself wondering where the chocolate was again, because this was going to take a while.
The rest of my morning was spent on the phone with my insurance agent, and in my room making sense of the chaos. I took a mid-morning break and ran down a couple storefronts to the diner for the hungry-man special where I devoured steak, eggs, home fries, Texas toast, and a chocolate shake in record time. My hangover was feeling better by the minute, and I didn’t even take the time to guilt myself over my poor eating habits. Win-win.
Back at my apartment, I kept thinking my engagement ring was tossed somewhere in the mess; but nope, that baby was gone. My insurance agent was checking to see what my jewelry coverage was. I doubted it was enough. In the meantime, I needed to go out and purchase a new computer, a desk, and some fancy dinnerware to replace the dishes I tossed the night before. By two o’clock that afternoon, I was done, both mentally and physically. My apartment, the bedroom included, resembled some sense of normalcy, and I felt a bit of order had been restored. Now it was time to do some shopping.
I got into my truck and was about to head to the big box electronics store to replace my computer, when I remembered I had to stop by my parents’ condo and take the trash out before they got home. I forgot to set it out last week, and I knew their garage would be stinking up to the high heavens by now. That’s what they get for keeping their trash cans in a warm, stuffy garage. If I had thought about it, I would’ve grabbed a can of air freshener on my way over. Maybe Mom still had some under the kitchen sink because, Lord knows, if they came home to a rotten-smelling garage, I’d never hear the end of it.
Typically, I was a re
sponsible person; but I had to admit, this week, I was dropping the ball. My diet sucked, I wasn’t making any follow-up beauty calls, and all my parents’ plants were probably dead. Not that I didn’t have a lot going on. This whole murder business was really messing with my life. I was hopeful Detective Brandle was working the new leads and would have the case solved before next weekend. I could go back to doing my regular beauty gig without being paranoid, I’d never have to mention a word of it to my parents, and just maybe Eric could help me develop a business plan for striking out on my own. I got goosebumps just thinking about it.
As I drove to my parents’ place, bits of conversations, theories, and facts from the last twenty-four hours swirled in my head. I kept wondering why, out of all his clients, Roger would choose Delgado to steal from, when he knew the man’s reputation. There had to have been a dozen or more easier targets for him to go after, people who probably didn’t check their bottom lines as often as Delgado. And how would Delgado know anything about me? Even if he was the one who attacked me in the Siebold’s kitchen, it wasn’t like I had identification on me and, so far, my name was kept out of the press. How would he know my involvement in this case or even where I lived? The case still had too many holes for Delgado to fill.
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that it took me three left-hand turns and one four-way stop to realize I was following the white Mercedes in front of me. I backed off the gas and tried to let the car get ahead. I hated when cars followed me all the way home or through a subdivision. It always creeped me out. Often, I’d forgo my original destination just to be safe.
My plan didn’t work. We both got the next red light. I couldn’t help but check out the driver. His style with the slicked-back hair and aviator sunglasses matched his ride to a “T”. The man looked up in his rearview mirror and caught me staring. I glanced away and peered down the street to my right, pretending to look for something important. The light turned green and I hung back. My turn off was up ahead, just a couple of streets away. No need to gas it out of the gate.
Makeup & Murder Page 13