“Glad you could join us,” Lew said, “but I think Tammy’s days as the largest charitable donor may be coming to an end. As they say in the movies, there’s a new kid on the block, Melissa Ross.”
“Don’t be silly,” Tammy said, her face reddening. “That upstart nothing, who got all her money by a fluke, will never surpass me. It’s ridiculous to even consider it. Nouveau riche people always try to buy their way into society. She’ll never be accepted in this town.”
“Hate to disappoint you, darling, but think your time as the number one philanthropist is up,” Lew said as he picked up his drink. “I just heard that she made an extremely large contribution to the Charity for Children this afternoon. One that’s going to make you look like a second-string player.”
“You must be kidding! That woman has no right to do something like that. I will not give up my place as the number one philanthropist to that piece of Barstow trash.” Tammy was speaking in a low voice with a bright smile on her face. No one who was observing her from afar would ever think the chairwoman of the gala was anything other than pleased with the way the evening was panning out.
She was interrupted by a young woman who walked over to the table and said, “Excuse me, but I have the pleasure of giving this winning bid card to Detective Combs.” She looked around and saw Jeff gesturing to her, his forehead creased.
“Pardon me, Miss, but I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t believe I bid on anything.”
Marty interrupted him. “I’m Mrs. Combs, and I’m the one who bid.” She looked over at Jeff with an innocent expression on her face. “Well, you left to get us a glass of wine, so I thought I’d bid on something. I guess I won.” The silent auction worker handed her a card and a credit card machine. Marty opened her purse, withdrew her credit card, inserted it in the machine, and signed the charge ticket. “Thank you very much.”
“No, it’s we who thank you for your generous contribution to a worthwhile cause.” The worker smiled and handed Marty back her credit card. “You can pick up your purchase on the way out. If anyone questions you, just show them your bid card. I signed it, showing that it’s been paid in full.”
As soon as she’d left, Jeff leaned closer to Marty and said, “Mind telling me what we, and you notice I’m accentuating the word we, bought at the silent auction?”
“Uhh, I really think we should support such a worthy cause, don’t you?” she asked with a beguiling smile.
“I’m getting the distinct impression that whatever you bought is something I probably would not have. Would I be right?”
“Okay, you’re going to find out anyway. I bought rhinestone studded dog collars for Duke and Patron. Duke’s is red, and Patron’s is black.” Marty sat back and waited for his reaction which wasn’t long in coming.
At that moment a waiter served their salads, giving Jeff a little time to compose himself. When he finally spoke, he said in a very soft voice, “Marty, I’m trying not to judge you, and you know I’m fine with whatever you want to buy, but I’ve got to tell you the dogs will never wear rhinestone collars. What were you thinking? These are male dogs that live in the desert, for Pete’s sake. They’re not pampered Hollywood pooches.”
“That may be true,” she said defensively, “but they don’t get many treats, and I thought they’d look good in them.”
“I beg to differ with you about them never getting any treats. Have you ever noticed how every night after dinner they follow John and Max back to John’s kitchen? I don’t think they’re doing that for a pat on the head. I’d be more inclined to think it was for food treats, wouldn’t you?”
Maty smiled sheepishly. “Well, yes, now that you mention it.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Tammy. “So tell me, Marty, what does a detective’s wife do when her husband is busy catching bad guys?”
Marty thought it would be prudent not to mention that she often helped Jeff catch the bad guys, but she chose to simply tell Tammy about her art and antique appraisal business.
They continued to talk through dinner, although their conversation was interrupted from time to time by people congratulating Tammy on being the chairwoman of another successful event. Several times Marty heard her say, “Well, you do know my passion is philanthropy.”
No question her ego is definitely fed by her role as a philanthropist. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever met anyone who defined themselves that way. Interesting, Marty thought.
After the waiters had cleared the entrees from the tables, the Executive Director of the Charity for Children walked up to the podium and tapped the microphone a couple of times to get the audience’s attention before speaking into it. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I please have your attention?”
When the room became quiet he began to speak. “My name is Dr. Gordon Jamison, and I am the Executive Director of the Charity for Children. My speech tonight will be short, because the band we hired has to leave promptly at 11:00 p.m. in order to catch a plane for Chicago where they are performing at an early morning breakfast. Believe me, we were very lucky they agreed to honor this commitment, and since we’ve had them before and they were requested by so many of you, I promised them that if they agreed to perform, I would keep my speech very short.
“I only have two subjects to address, and then the music can begin. The first is to thank each and every one of you for coming tonight and supporting Charity for Children. Because of you, we have raised over two million dollars tonight, and that substantially exceeds what we have raised at previous galas.”
He stopped speaking and acknowledged the thunderous applause by joining in the hand clapping that was taking place throughout the room. “Please, please, I am just as happy about it as you are, but remember my promise to the band. I have one more thing to say, and then the band will begin to play.”
The crowd quieted and when everyone had stopped clapping, Dr. Jamison said, “What I am about to share with you happened only a few hours ago, so even the wonderful committee who did such a fabulous job in planning and overseeing tonight’s event hasn’t been told. It is my distinct pleasure to recognize the donor of three million dollars to the Charity for Children, Miss Melissa Ross. Miss Ross, please stand, so we can give you the thanks your generous gift merits.”
An attractive woman who appeared to be in her early forties stood up and acknowledged the applause and shouts of bravo with a wave. She wore a broad smile and sat down as the applause abated.
“Miss Ross, on behalf of the Charity for Children, I thank you,” Dr. Jamison continued, “While we only met several hours ago, your name is synonymous with good causes, and I’m sure no one would begrudge you the name of Queen of Palm Springs Philanthropy. And while I and the members of this wonderful organization are most grateful for your generosity, it is the children who will benefit in so many ways from this selfless gift of yours.”
Again, there was applause. “And Miss Ross, I think it’s no secret to anyone who reads the Desert Sun, that with your affinity for art and antiques, this money certainly could have been spent by you on one treasure or another, particularly at the upcoming art and antique auction that’s scheduled to take place this coming Tuesday evening. Thanks for putting the children of this region before your passion for beautiful things. Ladies and gentlemen, as I said earlier, my speech would be short, and so it was. Please enjoy the rest of the evening.”
Marty noticed that Tammy’s husband had put his hand on her arm as if to restrain her, and she saw him whisper something to her. Marty couldn’t help but overhear her response.
“I hate that woman,” Tammy said bitterly, her voice seething with anger. “I don’t know how or what, but I have to do something to stop her. She’s just trailer trash, and I hope she remembers this night, because this is the last time she will ever be acknowledged for anything. No one does that to me and gets away with it.”
“Keep your voice down and act like you’re happy about this,” her husband said in a low voic
e. “People are looking at you, and you know how they talk in this town. You don’t want to be a headline tomorrow about a power struggle in the Charity for Children nonprofit organization. This is your night, not hers, no matter how angry you are, don’t let it show.”
Marty didn’t acknowledge that she’d overheard them and pretended to listen to what the woman on the other side of Jeff was saying about the different ways that the charity helped children. Waiters began the dessert service and the band started playing. In a few moments Marty noticed that Tammy and her husband had walked over to the table where Melissa Ross was sitting and she watched as the two women hugged in a public show of amity. Marty began to wonder if what she’d heard Tammy say to her husband was a figment of her imagination.
She made a mental note to tell Jeff what had occurred on the way home. She took a bite of the dessert and couldn’t figure out if it was a brownie or a piece of cake, but whatever it was, John deserved to know about it.
“Jeff, how do you like this dessert?” she asked.
“I think it’s fabulous, but I can’t figure out what it is or what’s in it. Is it something we should tell John about?”
“Definitely. I have to go to the ladies’ room. On the way, I’ll stop and ask one of the waiters what it is, but whatever it is, it’s really, really good. Back in a minute. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone,” she said as she stood up.
“In this crowd?” Jeff asked. “Not a chance.”
A few minutes later Marty returned and sat down, noticing that all of their tablemates were on the dance floor. “Jeff, the waiter said it’s called a Jack and Coke cake. He said the Jack is from a small amount of Jack Daniels whiskey in it and the Coke, is just that, Coca Cola. Weird ingredients. He said he didn’t have the recipe, and the hotel chef never gives out his recipes, but he confided that he’d taken a piece of the cake, as he called it, home one night and his wife had found a recipe for it on the internet. He suggested I try that. I’ll tell John about it tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me. Marty, you know how much I hate to dance. I feel like I’m back in junior high school. I just hate it. Why don’t we quietly leave while everyone is out on the dance floor?”
“Fine by me, but don’t you think we should thank our hostess?”
Jeff stood up and pulled out Marty’s chair. “I’ll drop her a note tomorrow on official stationery. She’d probably like to show it off or put it up on her wall. She can’t do that if I just thank her.”
“Good point, plus if we leave now we’ll beat the crowd at the valet stand. If we leave when everyone else does, we’ll be standing in line for hours.”
“Couldn’t agree more. Come on, we’re out of here.”
CHAPTER 7
“Isabella, you’re late. I’ve been waiting a long time for you to get home and cook my dinner,” the handsome Hispanic man said as he put down the glass he’d been drinking from. “Where have you been?”
“I stopped by the church to see Father O’Malley after I left Miss Ross’ house. I wanted to tell him the good news,” the soft-spoken small dark-haired woman said. “I know I promised you that I wouldn’t tell anyone we were getting married quite yet, but since he will be the one marrying us, I felt he should know.” She walked over to where he was sitting at the kitchen table, a bottle of tequila in front of him.
“Tomas, I thought you promised me you wouldn’t drink this anymore. You know what it does to you. Please, let me put it away.” Isabella said as she picked up the half-empty bottle and walked over to the cabinet where it was kept.
“Mi amor, I was worried about you and you know it helps me when I get anxious or I’m concerned about something. I was thinking about how we are going to live when we’re married. You’re lucky. You were born here so you’re a citizen, but me, that’s another story. I can’t get a job without a green card, and there is no way I can get citizenship papers. I refuse to work as a gardener or out in the fields, so that means we’ll have no money when we get married.”
“Maybe Father O’Malley could help you get a job. He knows a lot of people in town. I’m sure he could help us.”
“Isabella, he’s a nice man, but he’s not a miracle worker. Anyway, I’ve been thinking, and I’ve come up with a plan.”
“You always come up with strange, off-the-wall plans when you drink tequila. Remember, you promised me you would stop when we get married. You will, won’t you?” she asked in a tentative voice. “I don’t like to be around you when you drink too much. Remember what happened that one time.”
“How could I forget because you constantly remind me of it? I didn’t mean to hit you. It just happened. Matter of fact, it could have happened to anyone. My hand slipped. Now, about my plan,” he said in a dismissive tone of voice. “Sit down, because you’re involved.”
“Are you going to go back to school?” she asked hopefully, as she sat down at the table as he had told her to do.
“No, school’s for people who can’t think of any other way to make money. I’ve come up with a foolproof way to make money. Miss Ross has a lot of art and antiques, and you know pretty much where they came from, don’t you?” Tomas asked.
“Yes,” she answered hesitantly, not liking the way this conversation was going.
“Good. That’s what I’m planning on. If something bad were to happen to Miss Ross, then someone could get into her house and take a lot of her expensive things away. Those things could be on their way to some big auction house in Los Angeles by the time anyone got around to figuring out if anything was missing. Get me some more tequila, Isabella. Talking about this makes me thirsty.”
Isabella reluctantly walked over to the cabinet, reached up, and retrieved the bottle. She walked back to the table, sat down in front of him and said, “Tomas, I don’t like what you’re saying.”
“I don’t care whether you like it or not. I’ve thought about what we will do for money when we’re married, and I can’t think of anything else. That is, if you still want to get married,” he said as he poured the clear liquid from the bottle and filled his glass to the brim.
“Oh, Tomas, you know there is nothing I want more than to be your wife. We will be so happy together. What is your plan?”
“I read in the paper that Miss Ross is going to attend the art auction that is going to be held here in town on Tuesday night. The article said it will be the largest auction ever held in Palm Springs with very fine artwork and antiques being put up for sale. You know she’ll buy heavily. She’ll probably even have a few drinks at the auction or afterwards.
“When she gets home from the auction, her driver will let her out at the front door of her house. If she buys some items at the auction, he’ll probably help her carry them inside. Once he’s gone and she’s put her auction purchases away, I’m sure she will head for bed. Once she goes to her bedroom, you can call me. I’ll be in my truck parked a few blocks down the street. You can let me in through the kitchen door, and don’t worry, if Miss Ross hears us, I’ll take care of her. You know how remote that street she lives on is, so no one will see me or my truck. I’ll load up the truck and take off for Los Angeles. I know a guy there who takes things from rich people and sells them to some antique shops that don’t look too closely at where they came from.”
He sat back and took a long drink from his glass of tequila.
“Tomas, you said ‘I’ll load up the truck and take off for Los Angeles,’ but what about me?” Isabella asked, her small hands clasped tightly together.
“You will leave the house with me when I’m through taking out what I can sell. I’ll drop you off at our apartment before I leave for Los Angeles. The next day, you’ll go into work as if nothing has happened. When Miss Ross discovers that some of her things have been stolen, she’ll probably call the cops. You’ll have to deal with the police, but don’t worry, no one would suspect you. After all, you’ve been a trusted and loyal employee of Miss Ross for quite a few years. Why would either of us be con
sidered as suspects? Trust me, Isabella, it’s a perfect plan.”
“She’s been very good to me, Tomas. I can’t be a part of this. It’s wrong. Father O’Malley would say it is a sin. I don’t want to live the rest of my life lying in the confessional booth.”
“Well,” Thomas snarled, as he gulped down the last of the tequila and slammed the empty glass down on the table. “You’ve got two choices. One is marriage, and the other is no marriage, because if you don’t agree to my plan we’re not getting married.” He stood up, took two steps towards her, and violently pulled her out of her chair by her hair.
“I would hate to have to hurt you again,” he said in a soft yet menacing tone, “but if you don’t agree to help me with this, I may have to. And we won’t be able to get married, because we’ll never have enough money. What’s your answer, Isabella?”
He yanked her head back and forced her to look at him. “I asked you what your answer is, Isabella. Marriage or no marriage?”
“Si, Tomas, si,” she said as tears slid down her coffee-colored cheeks.
He released her and sat down again. “Sit, Isabella, we need to make plans.”
And I need to decide how I’m going to kill this rich woman if she discovers us in the act of stealing her art and antiques, Tomas thought. Should be easy enough. I’ve done it before, only Isabella doesn’t know anything about that.
CHAPTER 8
The following morning, Jeff walked out to the front of the compound and picked up the Desert Sun and the Los Angeles Times from the driveway. When he was walking back to his house, he heard John’s voice from across the central courtyard.
“Jeff, I’m making brunch this morning. Mimosas, bagels, and smoked salmon with the works. Plan on 11:00.”
“We’ll be there. Thanks, John.”
He and Marty spent the next two hours reading the paper and trying to work the Sunday crossword puzzle. “Just once I want to finish one,” Marty said in frustration as she finally threw her pencil down. “I give up. Time to shower and get ready for brunch.”
Murder and Mega Millions: A High Desert Cozy Mystery Page 4