Sprouted

by Gina LaManna

  I decided not to spoil her fantasy with commentary on the whole, he’s actually a dirtbag thing, and let her have her bliss. While she floated next to me, I handed over the tickets to two real bouncers outside of the ritzy looking hotel high rise.

  Meg and I slipped through easily, and I wondered if maybe having Todd as an acquaintance wasn’t so bad. Maybe I should return some of the money he’d given to Meg with that checkbook Anthony had forked over after our little pre-dinner romp.

  “Should we ditch them?” Meg asked as Anthony’s guys were detained by the hotel’s bouncers. “We can be upstairs before they catch a whiff of us.”

  I debated. “Nah, let’s play nice. I don’t want to hear from Anthony again.”

  “You guys had a nice...” Meg waggled her eyebrows. “Dance party, huh?”

  The blush returned to my cheeks. “Anthony is very generous.”

  “I knew it,” Meg said, clucking with delight. “Ah, I’m so happy for you, chickadee. You seem happy, too. Except, I am still nervous about you having this baby. I just don’t believe an entire head can fit through your hoo-ha.”

  Toby’s eyebrows raised as he entered the lobby at exactly the wrong moment.

  “Drink?” Paul asked him.

  “We’re not supposed to—” Toby argued.

  “One won’t hurt,” Paul said, and headed to the lobby bar, giving us our privacy.

  “Well, upstairs we go,” Meg said. “But when you have a second, I am really curious about the physics of this whole childbirth business.”

  “Let’s call it the miracle of life.” I tucked Meg’s hand on my arm as we hit the Penthouse button on the elevator. “I’ll spare your dinner appetite.”

  Paul and Toby returned just before the elevator doors closed and slid inside, their hands drink-free. Either they’d gone straight for shots, or they’d merely opted to give us time to girl-talk by ourselves.

  “Have either of you seen babies being born?” Meg asked. “I’m just curious—”

  Toby swayed violently back and forth, and Paul reached out a hand to steady him. Thankfully, the elevator doors cut Meg off before she could knock out Anthony’s guards with little more than her musings.

  “This is where we’ll wait,” Paul said, standing just outside the ballroom doors. “If you need anything, and I mean anything, let us know.”

  We nodded our thanks, showed our invitations to a new round of spiffy doormen, and slid into the glittery gala. High top cocktail tables were covered in white linens, and bright gold fleeced everything in sight. A hint of gaudiness—the truly expensive kind—lived under the sheen of elegance and glamour spritzed throughout the room.

  Meg grabbed the first canape off a passing tray, and I grabbed the second. She took two glasses, and so did I.

  “You can’t drink that,” Meg said with a cheeky smile. “Is that for me?”

  I grinned back and nodded. “I’ll hold onto them until you get a free hand. What do you say we mingle? Let me know the second you spot our rich benefactor to the police, or Detective Rankle himself.”

  “Well, I haven’t found the humans, but I have found their names,” Meg said, making her way around the tables. “And I believe I’ve found a party game.” She picked up the name plates and waggled them before me. “Wanna play musical chairs?”

  Chapter 17

  MEG AND I HAD SOMEHOW stuffed ourselves full to the brim before the rest of the gala attendees had even checked their coats. However, thanks to our early arrival at the venue, we’d been able to shuffle name plates around so that Jonathon Fidge, Detective Rankle, myself, and Meg, were all seated at one table near the wall. We had a nice view out the windows, as well as a perfect vantage point to watch the rest of the guests.

  We’d put the detective and Fidge next to one another and were prepared to watch their interactions closely. It’s not that I expected them to break out in a loud discussion over the money Fidge was transferring to the offshore account in Rankle’s name, but it could be telling to see if they appeared friendly, hostile, or something in between. The reasons behind the payoffs could be anything from blackmail to personal business to covering up bank heists. I was hoping for a clue in the right direction.

  “Steak,” Meg said as we eased into our formal seats, and the servers began to circle with the first round of appetizers. “I can’t wait until the steak gets here.”

  “How are you still hungry?” I whispered, scanning the room for the rest of our table. Meg and I were the only ones seated out of eight total places. “We polished off an entire tray by ourselves.”

  “I have an excessively overachieving digestive system,” Meg said. “I metabolize things like it’s my job.”

  “There he is,” I whispered, pointing discreetly with my knife across the room. “That’s Fidge.”

  “Oh, must be his wife with him,” Meg said, then squinted at the nameplates. “Crap. Did we forget to move Fidge’s wife’s nameplate to the table? That’ll be a dead giveaway. I hadn’t realized he was married.”

  I met Meg’s panicked gaze. “You get the nameplate,” I told her. “I’ll distract the couple. Move it!”

  Meg practically galloped across the room, which wasn’t exactly what I’d meant when I told her to move it, but it worked. She pawed through the tables for nameplates while I watched the stately couple work their way towards us.

  Pushing myself to my feet, I waddled to the middle of the aisle and parked my body there, directly into the route of Mr. and Mrs. Fidge. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Meg located the nameplate, waved it once, and began galloping back across the room.

  “Hi there,” I said sounding out of breath; it came naturally with almost every movement. I threw out my arm for a handshake. “I’m Lacey. How are you? I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Mrs. Fidge gave me a stiff smile. “It appears congratulations are in order. When are you due? I’m Leonora Fidge. This is my husband, Jonathon.”

  Jonathon seemed to shrink away from her, and I noted with surprise that he recoiled from her touch. “Jon Fidge,” he muttered, shaking my extended hand after his wife finished. “Who do you work for?”

  It was then that it clicked. I did recognize him. I’d seen Jonathon before!

  Since he looked different from his photo online, I hadn’t recognized him until now, but I knew I wasn’t mistaking him for someone else. He’d been the man in charge of the corporate group who’d entered the bank branch as Meg and I had been shooed out.

  “My husband works for Bank of the Lakes,” Leonora said in the silence, frowning as her husband pulled away from her once more. “He’s been feeling a little under the weather lately, so apologies if he’s quiet.”

  I felt a tinge of sadness for Mrs. Fidge. She seemed like a nice enough woman, polite and straightforward. If I had to guess, her husband hadn’t shared any of his sizeable deposits into the cop’s account with his wife—or else, she was something of an actress.

  “Do you have any kids?” I asked lightly. “I’m due with my first. I don’t actually work, at the moment. I’m here on behalf of my husband. He’s in...er, business.”

  “Of course,” she said, her eyes flicking ever so briefly over to her husband. “No, we never had children. My husband has always been so busy with his work, and I’m—you know, I have a career, also. I actually head up the sister foundation to this one. Do you make the gala circuits often? I don’t recall seeing you before.”

  Meg signaled that the seating arrangements were complete. Leonora and Jonathon Fidge were next to one another, our little game of musical chairs dangerously close to destroyed. I figured it was my time to duck away before we ruined anything else.

  “No, I don’t usually,” I said, working my way back to my seat. “Unfortunately, as I mentioned, my husband couldn’t make it tonight, so I brought a friend instead. Though he did send his checkbook with me.”

  “Isn’t that what really matters?” Mrs. Fidge leaned forward and winke
d. “Girlfriends are more entertaining to have at these events, anyway.”

  I gave a light laugh of agreement, relieved when Mrs. Fidge’s attention was pulled elsewhere.

  “I hope Duncan Woods isn’t that silver fox by the door,” Meg whispered, leaning close as she joined me at the table. She pointed to one of the last guests standing. “I had to sort of dump his name card on the ground. Does he look lost?”

  “Meg!” I looked under my chair and, sure enough, Duncan’s name stared up at me. “Okay, I’ll fix it. Do you see the detective yet?”

  “Yeah, he was at the bar grabbing something to drink. Don’t know where he went after that.”

  I ducked away from our table, located an empty setting near the back, and slapped Duncan’s nametag there with a whisper of apology to the confused group. I migrated closer to the bar on my way back to my own seat, figuring I’d take a quick peek. However, the detective was nowhere to be found.

  I checked on Anthony’s boys next. Toby and Paul looked attentive and bored as they leaned against the wall near the entrance doors. Toby was checking out a leggy older woman arriving late to the party, while Paul stared directly at the bouncers guarding the door.

  I hurried back to my spot. As I sat next to Meg, my stomach flipped. The detective was approaching from the other side of the room, seemingly oblivious to my presence. I had no clue how he’d react to finding Meg and I at his table, but if I had to venture a guess, it wouldn’t be pretty.

  “Oh, look,” I said, greeting the Fidges with a smile and ducking behind Jonathon’s head so Rankle wouldn’t see me until the last possible second. “We’re at the same table. How lovely.”

  Detective Rankle stopped dead about three feet from the table. He looked up, his gaze scanning over my shiny red dress and the baby bump beneath it before landing on my face. The blood left his face as I gave a happy little finger wave.

  “Have we met?” Detective Rankle asked, extending his hand to meet mine. “You look familiar, but I can’t place you.”

  Meg barely held back a groan. My stomp on her foot seemed to help her get quiet. I shook the detective’s hand firmly, giving no sign of our frequent recent encounters, and sat back in my chair.

  “I’m Lacey,” I said. “Lacey Luzzi. You look familiar too. Aren’t you...don’t you work for the police department?”

  “Detective Rankle,” he said tightly, still looking stunned at his bad luck.

  Little did he know we’d orchestrated it. He’d probably have that bit figured out before the appetizers came and left, and that gave me heart palpitations. Had Meg and I played our cards a little too well? Would he figure out that she and I were onto his little shenanigans with the CFO—even if we didn’t understand all that was happening?

  “I’m Meg,” she said, offering her hand around the table. “I’m here in place of Lacey’s husband. He’s the one with the big checkbook.”

  The table tittered with laughs of the upper class and the wealthy. Apparently, we played the part well enough to fool everyone for now. Give Meg a glass of wine and a few minutes in the spotlight, however, and our cover would be blown.

  “Detective Rankle,” I said, “Have you met Mr. and Mrs. Fidge? I just ran into them across the room.”

  “No,” Mr. Fidge said quickly. “I don’t think so.”

  His wife poked him in the ribs. “Of course we have, Jonathon. Isn’t he the detective who swung by the house that one time?”

  Mr. Fidge’s face pinched. “Right, right. I forgot about that. How are you?”

  “That’s right,” Detective Rankle said. “You served fresh bread and cookies—excellent. Not something I could forget.”

  Meg and I gaped at one another. Bad enough he pretended not to know us, but pretending not to know one another? There were more secrets stuffed into this table than candy in a piñata.

  “Actually,” I said, feeling my stomach churn as the baby shifted his or her weight inside me. “I think I’ve met both of you before.” I wagged my finger, taking in the pleasant aura of complete shock on the faces of both men. “Nope, I’m positive.”

  Jonathon Fidge looked genuinely stunned, which didn’t surprise me. He’d led the group from corporate into the Bank of the Lakes branch yesterday, and to him, I was just one little ant in the way of his very big hill. Meg and I had been little bugs on the windshield as he’d headed into the building to do whatever corporate stuff needed doing. I truly believed he had no clue he’d ever seen me before.

  Meanwhile, the glint in the detective’s eye had turned a shade murderous. It might’ve made me nervous had I not been surrounded by high profile people in a very public place. I was beginning to worry about the lengths Rankle might go to shut us up, especially after our show of bravado coming here tonight. It had either been a very brave choice, or a stupid one. Or, perhaps, both.

  “You don’t say,” Mrs. Fidge jumped in, saving her husband from the embarrassment of admitting he couldn’t remember me. “How lovely? When did the two of you meet?”

  I gave a polite laugh. “I’m sure you have no clue who I am, Mr. Fidge, or even that we briefly met in passing. In fact, I don’t think we spoke. Were you at the Bank of the Lakes branch off White Bear Ave yesterday with a group from corporate?” I turned to Mrs. Fidge. “My friend and I were actually there finishing up some personal banking business, and I remember seeing a group of folks walk through the door just as we were leaving. Maybe I’m remembering incorrectly, but—”

  “No, that was me,” Fidge said quickly. He looked mildly miffed, but not suspicious. “We’d been asked to perform a sweep of local branches recently. An audit, if you will. Ensure everything is up to code, customers are being treated with respect, etc. Quality assurance, one might say.”

  “How’d it go?” I dug into the salad a server had plopped in front of me, trying to sound like a bored housewife making conversation. “Everything quality assured?”

  Meg laughed next to me. “Good one, Lace.”

  Mr. Fidge gave a tight smile. “It’s fine. We run a tight ship at Bank of the Lakes. Simply put, we take pride in being the best for our local clients. We wouldn’t dream of being anything but the top of the line bank facilities for the Twin Cities area.”

  I waited for Fidge to finish vomiting up his sales pitch, and when he finally did, I nodded, smiled, and decided to really push my luck. What the heck, I thought. The detective already wanted to kill me, Fidge looked like a terrified little mouse, Mrs. Leonora Fidge would soon find out her husband was blackmailing a cop. It appeared there wasn’t a way to salvage the night even if I tried.

  “Speaking of that, it’s a shame about the Femme Fatale,” I said, using the name the media had given to the three ladies who’d robbed me, along with many other bank clients. “Sort of ruins that whole best in the business theory, doesn’t it? I mean—of course, it’s not your fault. It’s just unfortunate timing.”

  “Certainly is,” Fidge said through gritted teeth. Even he couldn’t help a quick glance toward the detective. “But the police are on top of it, and I’m sure we’ll be bringing justice to the culprits in no time. We’ll do our absolute best to set things right, returning all the items stolen in their proper condition, or replacing them.”

  “And if they can’t be replaced?” I asked innocently.

  “Whatever’s insured will be covered.”

  “What if the heirloom was more important?” I pressed, feeling a growing sense of dissatisfaction with the CFO’s tap-dancing around my questions. “You know, like a wedding ring from your dead mother that can’t ever be replaced with cash.”

  “Oh, oh!” Mrs. Fidge rested delicate fingers on her forehead. “You’re talking about yourself, aren’t you? I was racking my brain all evening trying to put things into place, and now I’ve got it! You were at the bank on the day it was robbed—the most recent one,” she clarified, cringing at her husband’s glare. “You poor thing! So very pregnant! I hope it didn’t cause you too much distress.”

 
; “Nope,” Meg said. “It mostly causes her distress when people call her very pregnant so I’d maybe tone that down. I mean, once you’ve done the deed, aren’t you just regular old pregnant?”

  Mrs. Fidge rested a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, it’s—”

  “She’s making a joke,” I said, resting a hand on my stomach for show. “I don’t mind at all. If I were any more pregnant, I’d be having twins.”

  We shared a dainty laugh that mostly wiped away the awkwardness.

  I took advantage of the lack of direction for the conversation and spoke toward Detective Rankle. “That’s where I know you from!” I smacked my forehead as if I’d just remembered. “You looked so familiar. You interviewed me the day of the robbery. Aren’t you the primary on the case?”

  “No,” Mrs. Fidge said with a delicate snort. “If he were in charge of the case, my husband would know of him—isn’t that right, Jon? They’ve asked you to interview with the detective several times, and...Jon?”

  “That’s where I know you from,” Jon Fidge said, weakly and unbelievably. “We have chatted. You came around to all the offices and took statements. Sorry, I’ve been under a lot of stress these past few weeks and my memory is not what it used to be.”

  Mrs. Fidge managed to close her mouth in surprise. “Oh, well then. I mentioned my husband hasn’t been feeling well.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me, as well.” Detective Rankle pursed his lips together and looked first to me, then to the CFO. “I have interviewed and taken statements from so many people over the course of the last few days that names and faces are blurring together.”

  “I’ll bet,” Meg said under her breath. “Funny you don’t remember—”

  “Potato?” I offered Meg a bite of baked potato that’d come with my steak, shoving it unceremoniously into her mouth to shut her up.

  “That is really excellent,” Meg said, eyes widening. “That might be the best potato I’ve ever had. Can I eat yours?”

  The rest of the table devolved into chatter, the others around us pretending they hadn’t heard a word. The silent auction came up, and the group entered a safe ground of non-explosive conversation topics.