Random Acts of Fraud (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries Book 5)

by Christy Barritt

  “No, I didn’t,” I said. “Not really. My best friend—she was with me last night at the station—convinced me I should try this dating service with her. That’s how I met Travis.”

  Another soft smile crinkled his eyes. “I see. But the two of you had never met in person?”

  “No, we were supposed to meet last night for the first time. Unfortunately, we found him . . . you know.” I shrugged, not wanting to finish the sentence as images of his dead body tumbling into the street filled my thoughts.

  He softened his voice. “Dead.”

  I nodded, compassion welling in me. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “I’m sorry, Holly. That must have been difficult.”

  “It’s not my first brush with death.” I realized what I’d said and how it must have sounded and startled. “It’s a long story.”

  “You’ll have to share sometime.”

  It was time to change the subject. Most of those stories involved Chase, and he was not a subject I wanted to bring up. “I assume you’re also used to death since you’re a funeral home director.”

  “That’s correct. I grew up working for my grandfather, who started Wilford Funeral Home. He was my mom’s dad. I was fascinated with the line of work.”

  “It takes a special person.”

  “I’m not going to deny that. And I don’t say that as a pat on the back. But some people just aren’t cut out for this kind of job. It involves being able to compartmentalize. Otherwise, you’ll carry death and loss with you every day, and that isn’t healthy. But you also have to be compassionate and unafraid to face the hard moments in someone’s life. A lot of people run from those hard times. It reminds them too much of their own mortality, about the fact that one out of every one person dies.”

  His words somehow captured me. What Drew said was true. Not everyone was cut out to deal with death. Just as in my job as a social worker, I’d realized that not everyone was cut out to deal with harsh family situations and people who were broken—and, in return, who broke the people around them.

  I’d chosen not to live life in a bubble. It seemed like Drew had also.

  “It’s good work you do. My cousin Chad used to be a mortician, so I know a little bit about that career choice.” I shifted as the waitress delivered our hummus and water, and I took a quick sip of my ice water. “And Travis worked for you at the funeral home?”

  “I hired out the company he worked for. He was a mortuary transport technician.”

  “Which means . . .” I dipped a pita triangle into the creamy chickpea puree.

  “He was the guy who went to the coroner’s office or the nursing home or the deceased’s residence, and picked up the body, bringing it to the funeral home for final preparations.”

  “I see.”

  Drew shook his head, his eyes narrowing in a contemplative expression. “He seemed like a truly nice guy. I can’t imagine what may have happened for him to get himself in this trouble.”

  Something about the way he worded it made me curious. “You mean, for someone to do this to him?”

  He flinched ever-so-slightly as if he’d been caught. “Well, of course, that’s what I meant.”

  I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. “Or was Travis the type to get himself in trouble?”

  I expected Drew to deny it. But, to my surprise, his jaw flexed, and he stared at his drink a moment before shrugging.

  “Sometimes I saw that gleam in his eyes,” he said. “I’m not going to lie. I had to keep my eye on him. He was a bit of a wild card, but all my clients seemed to like him.”

  I leaned closer. “You have no idea what might have happened to him?”

  He shook his head. “I honestly have no idea what might have happened to make someone angry enough to kill him. But I do know the police have questioned his boss, as well as a grieving widower who set his targets on Travis. Hopefully, they’ll find some answers soon.”

  Just then, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I knew it was rude to check my phone while having a conversation. But when I considered all that had been going on lately, I wanted to know whom the message was from.

  “I know this is terribly inconsiderate, but I’ve got to check this really quickly,” I said.

  “Go right ahead. I understand.”

  I pulled my phone out, and the words across the screen made the blood drain from my face.

  R U enjoying that hummus? I’m still waiting for you to give back what belongs to me. I know you have it, and I’m fully prepared to take action.

  Chapter Six

  “Are you okay?” Drew asked, his forehead wrinkling as he studied me.

  I barely heard him. Instead, I studied the patrons around me. None looked familiar or suspicious. Everyone went about their business, enjoying their meals like normal people did on a Sunday afternoon.

  But the sender of this text clearly knew I was here. He even knew what I was eating. And he wanted something from me. I had no idea what.

  “Holly?”

  My gaze shot to Drew. “Sorry.”

  “Bad news?” He nodded toward my phone.

  How much did I tell him? Too much information and he’d go running. I wouldn’t even blame him. Not many people would understand just how crazy my life could be sometimes.

  “It’s . . . complicated.”

  “Your ex?”

  He thought Chase had texted me? I released a long breath. “Oh, no. I, um,” I paused and tapped my fingernails on the table. “Whoever killed Travis apparently stole his phone and has been sending me threats.”

  Drew’s eyes widened. “What?”

  I nodded, realizing exactly how that sounded. “It’s true. I have no idea what’s going on or why this person feels the need to threaten little old me. But he is.”

  “Threaten how?”

  I remembered the texter’s stark words, and fear stabbed at my heart. “He hinted that he’s going to hurt me unless I give him something that I don’t have.” I held my breath, waiting to see Drew’s reaction.

  He flinched, probably considering whether or not I was a loon. I mean, stuff like this didn’t happen to normal people. I was totally on the same page as him regarding that.

  “You told the police?” he finally asked.

  “I did. They can’t trace the origin of the texts, but I’m keeping them apprised of everything that happens.” I smiled apologetically, before adding with fake enthusiasm, “Welcome to my life!”

  Drew shifted in his seat, as if turning over his thoughts and feeling unsettled. “What could you possibly have? You said you’d never even met Travis, right?”

  “That’s correct. That’s what makes this all even more confusing.”

  “Are the police patrolling by your house?”

  And here went another dramatic event in my life. “Actually, several officers in our local department don’t like me very much. I, um, well . . . I exposed a crime ring some of their colleagues were a part of.”

  “The one that was mentioned in the paper a few months ago? Some medics and others were involved?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that one.”

  “How did you get involved in that?”

  The deeper I went into explaining this, the more I realized that this would be our first and last meal together. “It’s kind of a long story. I suppose it partly has to do with me sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. And the other part has to do with the fierce need I have to see justice in this world.” I frowned. “If you want to wrap up this lunch and run away from me as fast as you can, I totally understand.”

  He let out a quick breath. “No. No, I don’t want to do that. I’m just concerned. This isn’t to be taken lightly.”

  “It’s not. But until I know who killed Travis and why, the threat is probably going to linger.”

  He leaned closer. “I hope you find your answers then.”

  “Me too.” Drew hadn’t run away, nor had he tried to stop me from following my instincts.


  I was liking him more and more by the minute.

  Drew and I stepped onto the street after eating at Kazan’s. He’d insisted on paying, and I hadn’t objected.

  “Are you sure you don’t need me to check out your place for you?” Drew stepped into the shade the awning above us offered from the glaring midday sun and waited for my answer.

  He scored major points for being protective while not being too protective. It was a fine line. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

  “If you’re sure . . . I just hate to think about this guy who’s been texting you living out those threats.”

  “I will take every precaution necessary.”

  He nodded, though he seemed hesitant. “Very well then. It was fun, Holly.”

  “It was fun.” It truly had been. We’d had a nice talk over lunch, and Drew was . . . surprising.

  I learned that he’d never been married, though he had been engaged once. He was on the board for a local children’s charity. He loved spending time with his family, who still lived in this area, and he’d been serving as a deacon at the church for the past three years.

  We’d stayed at Kazan’s for three hours, and I hoped we might see each other again sometime. Drew had been a nice distraction, but it was more than that. He was good company, and we had a lot in common.

  Before I could take a step toward my car, a man rammed into me.

  Not again.

  Before I realized what was happening, he snatched my purse and ran.

  “Hey!” Drew called.

  As the man sprinted down the street, Drew raced to catch him. But Drew’s slick dress shoes were no match to the man’s running shoes or his head start.

  My heart pounded in my ears as I watched the scene unfold.

  Who was that man? He’d been covered in black from head to toe. I’d barely caught a glimpse of his face. He had a hood pulled up over his head, a black bandana, and sunglasses. And everything had happened so fast.

  Please don’t let Drew get hurt. Please.

  Finally, Drew rounded the corner. Without my purse.

  His chest heaved from exertion, and sweat dotted his forehead. “I’m sorry, Holly. I couldn’t catch him.”

  I squeezed his arm. “It’s okay. Thanks for trying.”

  “Are you okay?” He peered at me, as if trying to ascertain my emotional state.

  Little did he know that this was small potatoes compared to much of what I’d endured in the past. “I’m fine. Minus a purse, but fine.”

  A uniformed officer pulled up on the street just then, climbed out, and strode toward me. “Someone in the restaurant reported a purse snatching. I happened to be patrolling just down the street.”

  I glanced behind me and saw faces pressed against the window. None of them had their phones raised. That I could see at the moment, at least.

  I observed the officer for a split second. I didn’t remember seeing him before. Did he know who I was? Did he hate me like some of those other officers did?

  Chase had told me to trust only him, and I had to keep that in mind.

  Thankfully, Drew began filling the officer in about what had happened.

  As he did, my mind wandered through everything that had occurred. This was connected with those texts I’d received. It had to be.

  Someone clearly thought I had something, and he clearly wanted it.

  I just had no idea what it might be or how long this little game would continue.

  I was humming “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” when I walked into my house.

  Thankfully, my car keys had been in my hands when my purse was snatched. As soon as I walked inside my house, I used my landline—yes, I still had one of those—and called Chase to tell him what had happened.

  He’d already heard and didn’t sound happy with me. Despite that, he informed me that my purse had been located—abandoned in an alley—and he would bring it by. They hadn’t caught the guy who grabbed it, however.

  I decided to change while I waited for him. Then I needed to head over to my mom’s house to check on things while she was out of town, just as I’d promised.

  I exchanged my fitted cotton dress for a more casual knit one, and my heels for canvas tennis shoes. As I glanced at myself in my full-length mirror, I paused, one of those skin-crawling feelings causing my hairs to rise.

  I scanned my bedroom, the one I’d so carefully decorated in shades of white and pale blue. My peaceful, safe place.

  Why did something feel out of place?

  I studied my bed. The clean lines of my white coverlet all appeared to be in place. The lacy pillows were still upright, just as I’d left them.

  My gaze traveled to my dresser. My perfume was on the mirrored tray where I’d left it. My jewelry box was closed and neat.

  My desk also appeared just as I’d left it, as did the gray rug with pale-blue flecks.

  Everything seemed to be in place.

  But that feeling still remained. The feeling that something was wrong.

  That’s when I saw it. A picture that I’d tucked between my mirror and its frame had tumbled off, and now hid halfway beneath my dresser. I scooped down and picked it up.

  I smiled at the image there. It was a photo of Chase and me taken at the park on a beautiful sunny day last fall. He stood behind me with his arms blanketing me. The smiles on our faces were enough to make anyone believe we were in love. Because we had been in love.

  It was just that true love didn’t always conquer all, despite what the songs said. How we felt about each other did nothing to change how both of us felt about the future.

  I stared at the picture another moment before opening my top drawer and sliding the photo inside. I probably should have done this a long time ago, but I’d been delaying it. I’d been in denial maybe, hoping desperately that Chase would change his mind.

  It was time to let that go.

  I supposed the fallen picture had been what caused my skin to crawl. There was nothing to be concerned about. The creepy-crawly feeling was just a culmination of everything that had happened over this weekend. My fears were messing with me.

  I reached into my closet to find a lightweight coat, like my jean jacket. I wanted something to cover my arms, just in case the wind was chilly, as it was prone to be on occasion in April. But my jacket wasn’t where I’d hung it.

  I stepped back, trying to retrace my steps. I’d definitely hung it up here after my date with disaster last night.

  I shoved a few items of clothing out of the way and finally spotted the denim in a heap on the floor. It must have fallen off its hanger.

  As I slipped the coat over my arms, something tumbled out of the pocket and onto the well-used wood floors of my bedroom.

  I retrieved the object and stared at it for a moment. A key dangled from an empty chain—well, empty except for a broken metal square on the end. There were no words or numbers on the key, no hints as to what it might belong to.

  Where in the world had this come from?

  The scene from last night replayed in my head. The man who’d run into me on the sidewalk.

  Had he somehow slipped this into my pocket?

  I didn’t have any other ideas. Could this be what the man who was texting me wanted? A key? Was that what this was all about?

  Dread pooled in my stomach.

  Thankfully, at that moment, my doorbell rang. Chase. I had to give this to him.

  Chapter Seven

  Chase wasn’t officially working today, so it wasn’t a surprise when he showed up wearing jeans with a henley instead of his normal khakis and a button-up shirt. My heart stuttered a beat when I saw him.

  Traitor. My heart should know better. Yet every time I saw him it reacted like this, like a dog who couldn’t stop wagging its tail when he saw the owner who’d abandoned him.

  “Holly.” He stood at my front door with his hands on his hips, like he was ready to take charge of the situation. First, he handed me my purse. “I don’t know if anything is missin
g or not. Maybe you can tell us.”

  I took it from him before extending my hand behind me. “Come on in.”

  He strode inside the house, and, as always, his frame—his being—seemed to fill the space in its entirety. Kind of like he’d filled my heart at one time.

  Quickly, I glanced through my purse. Everything appeared to be here, including my wallet and cell phone. That was good news, at least.

  “I’m glad you’re here. I need to show you something. Can I get you some coffee first?” My throat felt achy as I said the words, but I desperately wanted some normalcy now.

  Today had been crazy. This whole weekend had been crazy, for that matter. And it had all started with online dating. I should have known better.

  He paused ever so slightly and released a small breath, looking as tense as I felt. When would this ever get easier?

  Breakup etiquette rule number five: create a new support system.

  And yet Chase was the only cop I could trust enough to call.

  This was a problem.

  “Actually, coffee sounds great,” he finally said.

  I wondered what he’d been doing to make him so tired. Working? Exercising? Maybe he was dating someone else—a thought that shouldn’t bother me but did.

  “Follow me,” I said.

  We went into the kitchen, and I began scooping some grounds into the coffeemaker.

  “How are you doing today?” I asked, trying to make some polite small talk. I turned the pot on and listened as it gurgled, and the bitter aroma of coffee began floating through the air.

  “I guess I can’t complain. How about you?” He settled against the counter across from me and folded his arms. All of this felt too normal, too ordinary for my tastes.

  “Still a little shaken from last night. I don’t suppose you’d tell me if you had any updates.” I rubbed my hands together and waited. He had to be used to me asking these kinds of questions. I did it all the time. Or I had done it all the time in the past.

  “It’s an ongoing investigation. I can tell you that we’re still gathering information on Travis Hooker. I was up most of the night working on the case.”