“I’m coming by to see you,” I said.
“Do you have good news?” she asked.
“I have news,” I told her—which wasn’t exactly a lie.
We hung up, I got my things, and I left.
I kept my Bluetooth in my ear as I drove east on the 101 toward Mom’s house, ready to dive across five lanes of traffic and cut off every vehicle on the freeway if Muriel called. I still didn’t know what, exactly, I’d tell Mom about the whole housekeeper situation. I hoped something would come to me when I got there.
My cell phone rang. Immediately I switched to high-alert mode, then realized it was Amber.
“Sorry I don’t have better news for you,” she said.
I hate it when a conversation starts off that way.
“I asked around and found out that Sarah Covington is definitely engaged,” Amber said.
Oh, great. Just what I needed to hear.
I gathered my courage and asked, “To Ty?”
Maybe I should have waited until I pulled off the freeway to ask that question in case she said “yes.”
“I couldn’t find out,” Amber said. “Everybody is being really quiet about it.”
Okay, that was weird.
“Maybe it’s Ty,” I said, and had a little difficulty actually speaking the words aloud. “Maybe they’re keeping it quiet because they work together.”
“I don’t think so,” Amber said. “But he’s still acting really odd, so I can’t be sure what’s up with him.”
A scary thought blossomed in my head.
“He’s not sick, is he?” I asked.
Personal assistants knew the good, the bad, and the ugly about their bosses—medical conditions, prescriptions, vices, spouse/lover birthday, peculiar eccentricities—and Amber usually handled all those things for Ty. But she’d told me that at times he’d been a bit secretive.
“Sick in the head,” Amber said. “I don’t know what’s up with him. Now he’s got me buying Holt’s gift cards. Dozens of them. He’s spent a fortune on them.”
“Do you think he’s donating them to charity?” I asked.
“Maybe. But donations are usually handled through the corporation,” Amber said. “He’s working almost around the clock on acquiring another chain of department stores, so maybe he’s not thinking clearly.”
I doubted that. Ty thought in his sleep.
“If I hear anything else I’ll let you know,” Amber said.
“Thanks,” I said, and we hung up.
I didn’t know what to make of Ty’s behavior. Just as well I had Mom to focus on for a while.
I drove to her house. Today’s temporary housekeeper, a young woman in a blue uniform, met me at the door. I hadn’t figured out exactly what I’d say to Mom about the whole you’ve-been-blacklisted situation, so I decided to take a run at getting this housekeeper to stay on permanently.
It was worth a try.
“Hi,” I said in my I’m-super-nice voice as I gestured through the house. “I’m Haley, her daughter.”
“Sorry to hear that,” she mumbled.
By the time we’d walked together to the kitchen, she’d looked at her watch three times, no doubt counting down the minutes until she could leave.
I guess my I’m-super-nice voice needs some work.
I found Mom in the family room seated on the chaise dressed in her usual former-beauty-queen’s-interpretation-of-loungewear attire of a dress and four-inch heels—both Prada—with her makeup and nails done and her hair styled in an updo.
I could see that she was really feeling the effects of not having a housekeeper because she was actually holding a pen and writing on a tablet herself.
“What are you doing next Saturday?” Mom asked.
“I’m busy all day and evening,” I said.
I had no idea what I was doing next Saturday, but this was safer.
“I’m having a dinner party and I want you to come,” she said, sounding surprisingly happy. “And Ty too, of course.”
I’d never gotten around to telling Mom that Ty and I had broken up.
I never got around to telling Mom a lot of things.
I saw no reason to start now.
“You’re having a dinner party?” I asked. “What about the housekeeper situation?”
No way Mom would cook or clean for her own dinner party.
“You’ve handled that,” she said, smiling brightly. “By next Saturday I’ll have had plenty of time to get the new housekeeper into my routine.”
I didn’t know which was worse—telling her I still didn’t have a housekeeper for her or that Ty and I had broken up.
I took the easy route.
“Well, actually, Mom,” I said. “Ty and I aren’t together anymore.”
“What?” She gasped. “You’re—what?”
I couldn’t bring myself to say the words again, so I just shrugged.
“Oh, Haley, honey, that’s terrible,” Mom said.
She got off the chaise and hurried to me, wrapped her arms around me, and gave me a hug.
Wow, that was nice. Maybe I should have told her we’d broken up a long time ago.
She stepped back. “What happened, sweetie?”
“We decided we weren’t really right for each other,” I said, thinking it better that I kept it simple before Mom got distracted with her dinner party again.
“Nonsense,” she declared. “You two are perfect for each other.”
“No, not really,” I said.
“Of course you were,” Mom insisted. “Those Cameron men are boring to the bone, every one of them. All they do is work, work, work. They need exciting women like you in their lives.”
Now I kind of wished she’d start talking about her dinner party again. Talking about Ty made my heart hurt.
“I guess Ty didn’t feel that way,” I said.
“Did he say he didn’t love you?” Mom asked.
Now she wants to be a concerned mother?
“No, but he never actually said he did love me,” I said.
“What’s not to love?” Mom asked, waving her carefully manicured hands toward me. “You’re pretty, you’re smart, you’re fun, you’re interesting, you’re extremely competent and capable.”
Breaking up with Ty was almost worth it to hear my mom say those things.
“He’s just being a typical man,” Mom said. “He’ll come to his senses.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so, Mom.”
“I’ve seen you two together,” she said. “I’ve seen the way you look at him and the way he looks at you. I know love when I see it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “We’re done.”
“You know, sometimes it takes losing someone to make you realize how much you care for that person. You see how important they are. You realize that the little things don’t matter,” Mom said. “It’s normal to disagree over the small things because you already agree on the big, important things.”
Okay, where was my real mom?
Mom gave me another hug. “Now, I want you to check your calendar for next Saturday and my dinner party. And I’ll need my new housekeeper to start right away.”
Oh, crap.
I don’t know how Mom had taken my simple comment that I needed to talk with her about a housekeeper and spun it into believing I’d found one for her.
Such were the mysterious workings of an ex–beauty queen’s mind, I guess.
But I couldn’t deal with it right now, not after that conversation about Ty.
So what could I say but, “Sure, Mom. No problem.”
I got in my car and left.
I headed west on the 210 not really thinking much about where I was going. My head was filled with the things Mom had said about relationships.
It was scary to think she might be right about something—especially something as important as this—but I knew she was.
Some people were just right for each other. Some relationships worked without an obviou
s, apparent reason. Were Ty and I one of those couples? I was sure other people had looked at us and wondered what we saw in each other, why we were together—I’d wondered that myself a time or two.
But maybe there wasn’t a reason. Maybe there wasn’t anything that could be pointed to with a definite look-that’s-it kind of thing. Maybe some relationships were just meant to be.
Maybe that applied to Mom and her housekeeper also.
I cut across three lanes of traffic and headed south on the 2 to Eagle Rock.
Much as I didn’t want to, I had to go to work at Holt’s. I’d blown off my shift last night and I couldn’t do it again. I still hadn’t heard from Muriel about the ransom exchange, but I kept my cell phone in my pocket so I could blast out of there the minute she called with the instructions.
Bella and I were in the stock room putting looks together for the fashion show—or trying to—sorting through boxes of shoes and accessories.
She pulled a pair of whose-big-idea-were-these canvas turquoise and orange pumps out of a box.
“Damn. This stuff gets scarier and scarier,” Bella said. “I thought doing this show would be cool because I wouldn’t have to work on the sales floor. But all the nausea medication I’m needing is costing me a fortune.”
“The best accessories for Holt’s clothing are a can of lighter fluid and a pack of matches,” I said, “but I haven’t found them in any of the boxes.”
“Keep digging,” Bella told me.
“Haley?” a woman called.
Immediately I recognized the voice of Jeanette, the store manager. I didn’t know how I would hold up if she wanted to talk about how great the Holt’s clothing line was again.
I kept my back to her and pretended to sort through the necklaces—a move I’d practiced numerous time with customers on the sales floor—but Jeanette wasn’t to be put off.
“I need to see you in my office, Haley,” Jeanette said.
Bella and I exchanged a what-now look before I turned to Jeanette. I had no idea why she wanted to see me in her office, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t for something that would be good—for me.
“I’m kind of busy right now, Jeanette,” I said.
“This can’t wait,” she said, and headed toward the stock room door.
A zillion things flashed in my head.
Had she finally learned that Ty and I had broken up and was now exiling me to the ad-set team on night shift? Cutting my hours—or worse, giving me more hours? Putting me in charge of something—as if this fashion show wasn’t punishment enough?
Bella gave me a let-me-know-if-you-need-backup eyebrow bob—as a BFF would—and I followed Jeanette out of the stock room.
We walked down the hallway and she stopped outside of her office.
“Someone is here to see you,” she said, gesturing inside.
My heart jumped.
Was it Ty? Had he come to see me? Was he using something about the store as an excuse to talk to me?
The scenario flashed in my head. Me walking into the office. Ty standing there looking handsome but troubled. His expression stating that, without me, his life is meaningless. Us sharing a long, lingering look. Then both of us rushing together, hugging each other, kissing, saying that we’re sorry, that we can’t live without each other. Me telling him how Mom had said we were meant for each other—no, wait, I’ll leave out the part about Mom, it’s kind of a mood killer—me telling him how I missed him and—
“Haley?” Jeanette said.
I snapped back to reality and hurried inside her office.
Detective Madison stood behind Jeanette’s desk.
Talk about a mood killer.
Then it hit me—was Madison here to arrest me for the murder of Lacy Hobbs? Last time I’d talked to Shuman about the case, he’d said Madison hadn’t come up with any leads, evidence, or suspects. All he had was me. Had he finally decided that was enough?
But Detective Madison didn’t have that overjoyed, gleeful look on his face that I’d expect to see if he’d actually come to arrest me. There were no patrol officers with him, and whomever he’d partnered with in Shuman’s absence wasn’t there, either.
I had no idea why he was there, but I’d learned—the hard way—to keep my mouth shut around homicide detectives, especially Madison.
But he didn’t seem all that anxious to get the conversation rolling, either. A couple of minutes passed while we were locked into some sort of who’s-going-to-speak-first confrontation. Madison broke first.
“When was the last time you spoke with Detective Shuman?” he asked.
He’d said the words softly, but I felt as if he’d blasted them at me with a laser cannon.
Shuman. Oh my God. Shuman.
“Why? What’s wrong? What happened?” I asked, blasting him right back with my questions.
“Nothing,” Madison said. “Maybe nothing.”
“Is he okay?” I asked.
“I haven’t heard from him,” Madison said. “He’s missing.”
I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that Madison had kept in contact with Shuman. They were, after all, partners.
So now it looked as if he were the person I’d suspected was feeding Shuman info on the investigation into Amanda’s murder. By the worried look on Madison’s face I could see that he wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing.
I knew how he felt.
When Mike Ivan had given me the location of Amanda’s murderer I’d mentally wrestled with what to do with the info. Give it to Shuman? Or not?
Now, knowing that he’d gone missing, which meant there was a possibility that he could be injured somewhere—or worse—I could be asking myself the same question.
But I wasn’t.
I’d made my decision and I would to stick by it. I couldn’t second-guess myself. I had to believe that what I’d done was the right thing. I couldn’t back out now. I was confident it was what Shuman wanted. It was his call. I would have to trust in him to handle things.
That’s what friends did.
“I saw him a few days ago,” I told Madison.
“Did he tell you . . . anything?” he asked.
Madison knew Shuman and I were friends. That’s why he’d come here. I figured he must be pretty desperate—or worried—to ask me for help.
“We talked about Amanda, mostly,” I said, which wasn’t a total lie.
“How did he seem?” Detective Madison asked.
I mentally debated for a moment, then decided it was time for a total lie.
“Better,” I said. “He seemed like he was coming to terms with everything.”
Madison nodded thoughtfully, then said, “If you hear from him, let me know.”
I nodded, and Madison left. I lingered in Jeanette’s office for a couple of minutes, then went back to the stock room. Out of habit, I pulled my cell phone from my pants pocket.
Yikes! I’d missed a call—from Muriel!
I must have been so caught up in thinking about Shuman and talking to Madison, I hadn’t felt it vibrate.
I called Muriel, and immediately she picked up.
“We got the call.” She sounded breathless and majorly stressed. “It was one of those computer voices. Creepy.”
“What’s the deal?” I asked.
“You have to meet the kidnapper at nine tonight,” she said.
I glanced at my watch. That was only a little over an hour from now. Not much time.
“Where?” I asked.
“At Hollywood and Highland,” Muriel said. “Wear red, lots of red, so you can be spotted.”
“What am I supposed to do with the money?” I asked.
“Give it to Janice,” she said.
“Janice? Who’s Janice?” I asked.
“I have no idea.”
Oh, crap.
CHAPTER 23
I swung into the parking structure at the Hollywood & Highland Center, circled down the ramp, and found an empty space near the escalators. I’d made it dow
n here from Holt’s in record time—with some help.
After I’d hung up with Muriel, I told Bella I had to leave immediately. She was good with it. Since I’d been told to wear red and I didn’t have time to go home, I’d grabbed a red hoodie, scarf, and knit hat from the juniors section of the stock room—it wasn’t stealing, technically, because I’d bring them back tomorrow. Besides, what else could I do? Bella said she’d clock out for me—she rolls with anything—and I left the store by the rear door.
I’d told Muriel to meet me at a convenience store near the Lankershim Avenue exit off the 101. She’d been waiting locked inside her car, cradling the duffel bag of cash in her arms, when I pulled up. She tossed me the bag through our open windows, and I took off again.
Now that I’d arrived, I stayed seated in my Honda and glanced around—although I’m not sure what I expected to see. The parking garage was nearly filled with vehicles, but few people were there. With all the shops, stores, and restaurants still open, everyone was enjoying the nightlife.
I got out of my car, zipped into my hoodie, wrapped the scarf around my neck, and pulled on the knit hat.
Jeez, I really hope nothing goes bad tonight. No way did I want to have my mug shot taken in this getup.
I took another look around the parking garage, thinking I might spot Jack. I’d called him with the ransom info when I left Holt’s, as he’d asked me to do, but he hadn’t answered. I hoped he’d listened to the voicemail I’d left. He hadn’t said he’d come help and I hadn’t asked him to. Still, I wished he’d show up or at least call. Maybe he could help me figure out who Janice was and just how the heck I was supposed to find her.
I circled my car and pulled the black duffel Muriel had given me off of the passenger seat. Surprisingly, twenty grand didn’t weigh all that much. Or maybe I was just pumped up. I took the escalator up to Level 2 and walked out to the central courtyard.
I’d been to the Hollywood & Highland Center many times. It was a hot spot for tourists, locals—everybody. The multistory complex held all sorts of shops and restaurants, dozens of kiosks, a spa, a bowling alley, and lots of places for photo ops, plus outdoor seating and a view of the Hollywood sign.
The place was huge. I hadn’t been told where I was supposed to meet the kidnapper who called herself Janice, so I strolled around the courtyard for a while. Nobody approached me. I saw no one who looked suspicious—other than myself, a young woman alone, dressed in a hideous outfit, carrying a duffel bag for no apparent reason.
Evening Bags and Executions Page 20