Jack!” Regan said as she answered her phone and walked into the kitchen. “I really hope we don’t get disconnected. The cell phone service in this house is unreliable.”
“I miss you. All of a sudden it seems like forever since I’ve seen you.”
“I feel the same way.”
“Your text said you were going back to your friend Zelda’s?” he asked.
“Yes.” Regan explained to him Zelda’s concerns about her financial adviser and her stepmother. “We’re trying to get things straightened out.”
“But you’re okay.”
“Yes, of course I am. Jack, I hope I won’t be delayed in getting back for dinner tonight. I don’t know how long this will take.”
“Don’t worry about it. If you’re delayed, I’ll come over to Zelda’s. Give me the address.”
Regan smiled. Jack never complains or makes me feel guilty. “I don’t know why I was lucky enough to find you,” she said after giving him directions to the Scrumps estate.
“You were born under a lucky star,” Jack joked. “But so was I.”
“How’s your day been?”
“Interesting. We’re a much bigger group today. It’s good to reconnect with people I haven’t seen for a while. A few of us had lunch together at a restaurant near headquarters. We’re heading back to the auditorium for the afternoon session in a few minutes. I’ll call you when we finish and see what’s up.”
Should I tell him about my visit to a police station this morning? Regan wondered. No. He sounds too worried. The problem is that when Jack gets a feeling about something, he’s usually right. Regan teased that she was going to buy him a crystal ball.
“Regan, are you there?”
“Yes, of course.”
“If you need any help finding information about these people, you know you can call my office.”
“Thanks, Jack. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Be careful.”
“I will.”
When Regan hung up the phone, she stood quietly for a moment. I can’t wait to see him, she thought. It won’t be long. She glanced around the kitchen wondering what went on in the house when people actually lived here. There must be some clues somewhere. She shrugged. I can’t think about that now. There are more important issues to deal with.
She found a small glass bowl, brought it upstairs, and placed it upside down over the liquid on the dresser. Zelda was in the bathroom.
Regan sat down with her iPad and entered Rich’s name into a search engine.
30
In the auditorium at LAPD headquarters, Jack’s lunch buddies were saving him a seat. He headed down the aisle, saying hello to people he knew along the way.
“Hey, Jack, how’s it going?”
“Great. You?”
“Can’t complain.”
“Jack, good to see you.”
“You, too.”
The program was about to begin. The final stragglers were wandering in. On the stage, the microphone was being tested.
Jack was about to take his seat when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around. An officer from the LAPD introduced himself.
“I wanted to say hello. My name is Lew Martin. I met your wife several years ago when we arrested a guy she investigated. She’s terrific.”
“Thanks,” Jack said. “I agree.”
“I just heard she’s working overtime. We could use her back in Los Angeles, but thanks to you we lost her to New York.” Martin laughed.
Jack smiled. “Overtime?”
Martin leaned in and lowered his voice. “I hear that knife she found in the woods is a beauty.”
Jack raised his eyebrows slightly, an expression that was meant to convey disbelief at the situation, not that he was hearing this for the first time.
“Tell her the guys at the precinct over in Hollywood are grateful she dropped it off this morning. More patrols have been ordered. A knife like that, hidden in the woods near hiking trails?”
An announcement was made from the podium: “Could everyone please be seated?”
“Good to meet you, Jack. Say hello to Regan for me.”
Jack barely heard him.
31
Two crew members on the Victorious Vitamins shoot were working together on the set for one of the ads. Their commercial would feature a couch potato couple who develop an amazing love for exercise and healthy food after four weeks of ingesting the vitamins. In the first scene the pair sits on the couch eating giant bowls of ice cream and watching television. Opened bags of potato chips, candy bars, French fries, doughnuts, cakes, cookies, and bottles of soda are scattered on the coffee table in front of them.
Four quick scenes follow.
First we see the couple taking the vitamins for one week. Some of the junk food has been thrown into a clear trash can next to the coffee table. The couple looks a little more alive. The next scene takes place after they have taken Victorious Vitamins for two weeks. More junk food has been discarded and the twosome is sitting up straight and starting to smile. In the third scene the couple is wearing exercise clothing and all the junk food has been cleared from the table. In the final scene the energetic duo is laughing and cheering as they jog around the couch, weights in their hands. The trash can is gone. Fruits and vegetables cover every inch of the coffee table.
“Hey, Ernie,” one of the crew said. “This plastic window we’re supposed to hang on the wall behind the couch is cracked and broken.”
Ernie shrugged as he sawed a piece of plywood. “I’ve never been on such a shoddy project in my life. Max, you think these vitamins are for real?”
“Nah. If I thought the vitamins would cut down on the number of doughnuts I eat, I might try them. But what they’re claiming is impossible. Besides, I like my donuts. I eat my vegetables, too, but I don’t run around the couch cheering about them.”
“If the company fails they should sell the commercials to a comedy station. I can’t wait until the actors get here and start rehearsing. How they do this stuff with straight faces is beyond me.”
In the back room of the warehouse, Rich and Heather, producers of the commercial, were meeting with the director, Frank Bird. Frank had asked for the meeting. He was clearly upset.
“You’re not spending enough money,” Frank complained. “The sets are cheesy. I’d like to rent furniture to use in the scenes. I checked, and there’s a company not far from here that has what we need.”
“I’m sorry,” Rich said, shaking his head. “We’ve spent a great deal of money developing the product and we have to keep our costs down. This is only the beginning. Once orders start pouring in, we’ll have money to spend on advertising. Don’t forget, the commercials we’re doing today cost money to put on the air.”
“Who developed this product?” Frank asked.
“We’re working with a brilliant scientist.”
“Named?”
“The person wishes to remain anonymous.”
Frank frowned. “I can’t understand why. Do you have FDA approval?”
Heather leaned forward and cleared her throat. “Food supplements do not require FDA approval.”
“That’s great. Okay. I hope the reason you’re not spending money today is because you spent it all developing a safe, healthy product.”
“Without question we have a product that is safe, healthy, and effective,” Heather replied. “We’re confident Victorious Vitamins will procure a large percentage of the market.”
“Right,” Frank said, wishing he could just walk away from the job and never see these people again. “One more question.”
“Yes?” Rich asked.
“I was hired Wednesday night. What happened to your original director?”
“We didn’t feel he was capable,” Rich answered, his jaw tight. “We saw your reel and knew you were the one who would convey our vision for Victorious Vitamins—pep, energy, health—”
Frank stood. “I’ll do the best I can. But don’t blame m
e if these commercials are embarrassing. I just hope the actors are decent. I’m not the one who chose most of them.” He looked the two of them in the eye. “I’m forty-two years old. I got into this business late in life because I decided I wanted to do something I love, something I can be proud of. I hope your vitamins are as good as you say they are.”
He walked out of the room and shut the door.
32
Maggie went to two thrift shops that weren’t well stocked with petites, never mind anything red in a petite four. Then it struck her. She was wasting precious time. Thrift shops only can sell what people donate. They don’t place orders. It’s hit or miss. What she was looking for would not be easily obtained in a used clothing store.
Sitting in her car in front of I’ll Have Seconds, Maggie got up the nerve to call Gladys. She knew it was her only hope.
“Hi, Maggie,” Gladys answered cheerfully. “My size hasn’t changed since we last spoke.” She laughed. “I’m looking forward to tonight.”
“Me too. Funny you mention your size,” Maggie said, her voice casual. “The restaurant just sent me an e-mail confirming our reservation. They’re trying out theme nights. Tonight they suggest people wear red. I don’t know. Does that grab you?”
“A theme night? This isn’t a raucous, noisy place, is it? I’d like to see you but I can’t hear myself think when—”
“Oh, no!” Maggie said quickly. “It’s elegant. You’ll love it. Do you have a red outfit?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any problem wearing it tonight?”
“No. I’ll wear red. Sounds like fun.”
“Atta girl. See you later.”
Maggie hung up the phone and breathed a sigh of relief. What’s wrong with me? I should have made that call a few hours ago. Now I’ll buy Gladys a box of candy so she’ll have something to open. If the only package I have for her is that gray pantsuit she might throw it at me. I wouldn’t blame her.
Norman hadn’t called back yet. I know he’s doing that to annoy me, she thought. If he wants me to beg, I’ll beg. She dialed his number. Naturally, he didn’t answer. “Norman, please, I’m begging you to call me back. It’s important.” Then she sent him a text that started with the word EMERGENCY.
That should get his attention, she thought. Now to the chocolate shop. I could drive there in my sleep.
33
Norman was determined to find a glass bottle with an eyedropper top but he wasn’t having much luck. He’d gone to three different drugstores. There must be someplace nearby that has one, he thought. I want to save every last drop of that tea. It’s living proof that Rich drugged Zelda! He’ll pay for this. I hope he rots in prison for the rest of his life!
What else is he capable of?
Norman steered his car into another crowded parking lot and started looking for a space. All this in and out of the car is so stressful, and I’ve got to get back to the house. Regan and Zelda are waiting for that suitcase.
Rich was never very nice to me, Norman thought resentfully. What was his problem? What did I ever do to him? I never mentioned my feelings to Zelda because she seemed happy with him. Now I’m ready to dish!
Norman’s phone rang. He found a space, pulled in, then looked at his phone. Is that the same number that came up before? I think it is. I can’t get involved in a conversation right now.
He got out of the car and ran into a drugstore. They had what he was looking for, but the line at the checkout was long. As he waited, he knew that precious minutes were being wasted.
But this is important, he told himself, the tiny bottle in his hand.
We must preserve the evidence.
Evidence of bodily harm.
34
In the den of her home in Summit, New Jersey, Nora Regan Reilly turned on the evening news. She was waiting for her husband Luke, owner of three funeral homes, to return from work. They’d have a drink, then go to dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant in town. Tomorrow afternoon Nora had a signing at a local bookstore for her new release. She enjoyed seeing people who came back every year and now felt like old friends. It would be a pleasant weekend.
I wonder how Regan is doing, Nora thought as she sat on the couch. I hope everything works out for poor Zelda. Come to think of it . . . Nora got up and walked over to the cabinet under the television. She pulled open a drawer, found the DVD of Puzzling Words, and popped it in the DVD player.
She sat back down, a remote control in hand. Boy, would Regan give me grief if she walked in now, Nora thought. I’m only playing this because I’d like to see Zelda again. She fast forwarded past Regan’s appearance, hard as it was not to stop and watch Regan’s killer expression when she lost the bonus round. But Luke would be home soon and he’d seen this more than once.
There she is. Nora watched as Zelda was introduced. She looked so friendly with that cherubic smile. Her long curly hair was pulled off her face with jeweled combs. A green and white peasant blouse and silver jewelry flattered her coloring.
“My name is Zelda Horn and I’m from Santa Maria.”
Nora watched the entire game. Zelda was so excited when she won, grabbing the elbow of the actor she played with, her expression stunned.
Time for the big-money bonus round.
I know what’s coming, Nora thought, and it’s not good. Zelda looked so hopeful and bright-eyed when the round began. She had one minute to guess ten words. But it was as if the actor she was playing with suddenly took a dummy pill. He blanked out. “Uhhh,” he said more than once, “uhhhh.” What was his problem? Nora wondered. Zelda was a good player but had no chance. The look on her face when the round ended could break your heart. She even patted that dummy’s hand and said not to worry, trying hard to be a good sport.
Nora laughed out loud. Not my Regan. She didn’t come close to patting her celebrity’s hand. It looked more like she wanted to bite it. But in fairness, Regan would have won that money so easily if it weren’t for the horrible clue on the last word. Nora shut off the DVD.
Thinking about Regan reminded Nora of the letter she had started to tell her about earlier in the day.
What was it about that request? Nora went upstairs to her office and found the file she kept on books sent to charity. She brought the letter back downstairs, poured a glass of wine, and sat at the kitchen table.
The letter was written on 8 1/2 x 11 paper with flowers bordering the sides. “Dear Nora” was handwritten. The body of the letter was typed. It began “Hello, my name is Chris Clare.” She then wrote about doing good works for children and how her volunteering made a difference. Nothing specific. She stated that Nora was one of 100 people chosen to receive this letter. That’s a good one, Nora thought. I really didn’t look at this closely before. Here’s something! At the beginning of the note, the woman says her name is Chris Clare, then signs it Clare Chris. What a doozy! And of course I sent the book to a PO box.
I’d love to see where that book is now.
The back door opened. Luke stepped into the kitchen and walked over to the table. “Hello, my dear,” he said, leaning over and giving Nora a kiss.
“Hello. Glad you’re home.”
“Me too. What are you reading?”
“A letter I was telling Regan about today. Requesting a book. I’m sure that whoever sent it isn’t doing all the good deeds she claims to be doing. Let me get you a glass of wine.”
Luke took off his coat and hung it in the hall closet. “How is our daughter?”
“She ran into a young woman—Zelda—who she met when she did that game show. Zelda’s father got married at a drive-through chapel in Las Vegas the other day to someone he hasn’t known long. She asked Regan to see what she could dig up on the new bride.”
“Not a bad idea,” Luke said as they walked into the den together. “Though I hope Regan and Jack are able to enjoy their weekend.”
“I hope so, too. But you know Regan. She’ll never walk away from someone who asks for her help.”
35
At first glance, Regan couldn’t find much about Rich Willowwood or Richard Willowwood online. She did find a site that listed Rich’s business, Willowwood Management in Sherman Oaks. Investment services with a staff of one to four and a Web address. She entered the URL and was told the website was under construction. No other information was available.
Zelda came out of the bathroom. “I’d like to take a shower, but I think I’ll go back to bed for a few minutes.”
“A shower?” Regan asked. “Can you stand for that long?”
“I don’t know. I’ll go back to bed and decide. Regan, you look tired.”
“I’m okay.”
“You slept in the chair all night. Why don’t you go into one of the bedrooms and close your eyes for a few minutes? You have plans with Jack tonight. I don’t want you to be exhausted. Norman will probably be back soon with those statements. Give yourself a breather.”
“You don’t want to talk about Bobby Jo?”
Zelda shook her head. “I can’t think about her at the moment. She’s coming here, ready or not. We’ll worry about her later. Rich, on the other hand, I can worry about as soon as Norman returns.” Zelda got back into bed and sighed. “Please, Regan. Why don’t you rest for a few minutes?”
Regan put her hand on the back of her neck. “Maybe I will stretch out. Sometimes when I try to take a nap I just stare at the ceiling. But I use the time thinking.”
“So go think,” Zelda said. “And I hope you rest.”
Regan went into the bedroom downstairs where the coats had been kept for the party. This is really not a bad house, she thought. It’s just dated. The room didn’t get much light. Heavy drapes nearly covered windows that faced the backyard. Somber, dark furniture added to the feeling of gloom, but the room had a certain old-fashioned smell that Regan didn’t mind.
She took off her shoes, pulled back the flowered spread, and laid down. The bed was surprisingly comfortable. Her body was grateful to rest on a flat surface. The house was quiet and peaceful and she dozed off within minutes.
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