Shop Til You Drop Dead (A Hollis Brannigan Mystery)

by Dorothy Howell

  Anger boiled through me, then as quickly, turned into fear.

  Louise nodded, still frowning, and Dan left the office. I ducked into the nearest cubicle and dropped to my knees. I hid there, my stomach in knots.

  What was I going to tell Louise? Should I confess when she confronted me about my involvement with Edith’s and Allison’s murders? Or tell a big, fat lie and deny all knowledge of everything?

  When I figured Dan had enough time to leave the department, I peeked over the cubicle wall and made sure he was gone, then went to Louise’s office. She rifled through her desk drawers, moving things around, loading items into her tote bag while I stood in the doorway mentally rehearsing the few excuses I could come up with for butting into Andy Edmond’s missing-dog-turned-murder-investigation, and the fewer still reasons I should be allowed to continue to work here.

  “Hollis,” Louise said, glancing up at me.

  I stepped inside her office but didn’t sit down. She didn’t ask me to. I guess this would be a short meeting.

  “Your time belongs to Fisher Joyce,” Louise told me. “Too much time unaccounted for. Doesn’t match up with the items you shopped for.”

  So I was right. Dan had seen me on June Street, questioned my visit to Edith Bagley’s house, been suspicious of my reason for being there. Then he’d checked into my background. And now, prompted by Detective Sullivan’s appearance, Dan had decided he needed to run to Louise with everything and rat me out, causing her to check into where and how I was spending my time.

  Louise shoved more papers into her tote. “We don’t pay you to take care of your personal business on company time. One more incident like this and you’re done here.”

  I’d expected to hear this but, still, it hit me hard. My heart pounded and my stomach churned. I gulped hard trying to hold in my rising anger, and managed to say, “Somebody complained?”

  I already knew it was Dan. I wondered if she’d confirm it.

  “One more incident,” Louise said again. “One more and you’re gone. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  I swung around and left.

  Tears pressed against my eyes but I refused to let them fall. I hurried out of the department, turned the corner, and there stood Dan. He’d waited for me. To gloat? Threaten? Admit he’d shot off his mouth to Louise?

  “Listen, Kansas,” he said, walking closer. “I—”

  “Don’t even try to explain.” My tears morphed into a hard knot of anger.

  He frowned. “I don’t—”

  “Isn’t there something you’re supposed to be fixing right now?” I demanded. “Somebody you should be killing?”

  Dan drew back a little.

  “Look, just stay away from me,” I told him. “And mind your own business.”

  I whipped around him and hurried to the lobby, then caught the elevator to the parking garage, vacillating somewhere between anger and hurt and I don’t know what, exactly.

  When the doors parted I stepped out and headed for my car, then spotted Meredith.

  “Hi, Hollis,” she called and hurried over.

  I forced down my boiling emotions and waited for her.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” she said, stopping in front of me. “I decided to meet Neil’s parents this weekend. I’m so nervous, but I thought what the heck? If they don’t like me and he wants to dump me, it’s better I know now. Right?”

  I tried to say something, but my throat was too tight.

  “And guess what?” Meredith said, bouncing on her toes. “My roommate’s friend actually knows Neil’s mom—well, kind of knows her. They work at the same place. Anyway, she knows the restaurant we’re going to. So she’s taking me shopping tomorrow so I can get exactly the right thing to wear.”

  I was supposed to take her shopping.

  The anger simmering in me transformed into tears again.

  Meredith must have read the disappointment on my face. “Hey, you can come with us, if you want.”

  I gulped hard and said, “No, thanks. I’ve got tons of things to do tomorrow.”

  “No, really, you should come.”

  I shook my head.

  “I really want you to come,” Meredith insisted. “Really.”

  She was upset now, seeing how she’d hurt my feelings. But I wasn’t in the mood to make her feel better.

  “No, I can’t,” I managed to say. “See you later.”

  I hurried to my car and headed out, breathing hard and determined to tamp down the volcano of hurt and anger rising in me. At the first stop light I grabbed my phone to call Brittany. I desperately needed to talk to a friend, a real friend. She’d called me twice today so I figured she must have some huge gossip to share, and I needed a distraction from everything.

  I glanced up at the traffic light. Still red.

  Sometimes Brittany’s stories were a little convoluted, tough to follow, so I clicked on her Facebook page to give myself a heads-up on what was happening. A new post appeared. It was a photo of Brittany’s hand. On it was a diamond ring.

  Brittany was engaged. My best friend was getting married. She was marrying Toby. And I didn’t even know it.

  Tears splashed onto my cheeks as I drove forward. This was too much. Just too much. All I wanted to do was go home, crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and stay there all weekend—

  The dog.

  I slammed on the brakes.

  Behind me, horns blew. Tires screeched.

  Oh, my God, I’d forgotten Gizmo.

  Could this day get any worse? Could my life get any worse?

  I drove forward, tears streaming.

  Detective Sullivan hadn’t told me not to leave town. But maybe I should. Maybe I should go back to KCK. Back where I belonged.

  Chapter 18

  Sunlight through the blinds woke me and I was surprised to realize I’d slept all night. Maybe it was the glass of wine I’d had when I got home—or the two I’d had after that.

  I stirred under the covers, my brain shifting into gear. Saturday. While I was on-call most weekends, I seldom received a shopping order. My off-listers didn’t want to pay the upcharge. Still, it wasn’t unheard of. Visions of Zella Mason and her elastic-waist khaki pants and her white blouse that now cried out for a navy blue cardigan sweater came to mind, but I knew Zella would wait until Monday.

  I wasn’t sure I’d be here, if she did.

  Brittany drifted through my thoughts. She was back home planning her wedding with her friends and family. She knew L.A. wasn’t the right place for her. Maybe it wasn’t right for me, either.

  When I left the office yesterday I’d thought about leaving, going back to KCK. This morning the notion still floated through my head.

  Maybe I should go. Maybe I’d been fooling myself all along, thinking that I belonged in L.A., or in the investigations department, or even at Fisher Joyce. Maybe I’d been fooling myself thinking I could find my sister, and that she’d want a relationship with me if I did.

  The image of Edith Bagley appeared in my head. I’d made a little progress but really, what had I come up with? I’d found no evidence, no real motive, and a few suspects that I’d basically manufactured out of nothing more than my own desperate need.

  I was never going to solve Edith’s murder.

  I dug my head deeper into my pillow. Going back to sleep and sleeping all day, all weekend, sounded good.

  The bed shifted, sending a spike of alarm through me. I pushed up onto my elbow and saw Gizmo rise from the spot by my feet where she must have spent the night.

  Childhood memories surfaced. Quinn and me playing with our neighbor’s dog Gizmo, dressing her up for Halloween, giving her reindeer antlers at Christmas. My dad, when he still lived with us. Family outings and vacations. Times that were good, when I’d been too young to pick up on the tension between my parents, when I’d thought Mom’s odd behavior was normal. Then, overnight, it seemed it had all vanished and there was no way to get it back.
r />   Gizmo yawned and stretched, then walked closer and plopped down again.

  “What am I going to do with you?” I said, as if she could understand me, and fell back onto my pillow.

  She cocked her head and her big brown eyes got bigger.

  My heart melted a little, even though I didn’t want it to. I’d had to harden my feelings so many times—my dad when he left us, my mom when she headed for the artists’ colony, my sister when she took off with her boyfriend. I’d even lost the first Gizmo when our neighbor in KCK moved away.

  “How am I going to take care of you? The girls in the pet-sitting department won’t be able to keep you every day. I can’t afford doggie daycare. It’s not fair to leave you home alone all the time.”

  I gazed at Gizmo thinking, for some crazy reason, she would react to the situation, make me feel better about it. She didn’t.

  “You deserve somebody better than me,” I said, and heard the slight quiver in my voice. “Maybe I should take you back to the shelter. A nice family could adopt you. You’d be happier with them.”

  Gizmo inched forward and pushed her head under my hand so I could pet her. She was soft and warm and it was nice feeling her little body next to mine.

  “Yeah, that’s probably what I should do with you.” I sighed and rubbed her head.

  Gizmo licked my hand.

  “My apology for forgetting you yesterday. But I came back. That makes it okay, doesn’t it? Sort of okay?”

  She snuggled closer.

  “See what I mean? The shelter might be the best thing for you.”

  Gizmo barked once, which I chose to believe meant she agreed.

  “I can’t lie around here all day worrying about everything. Let’s do something,” I said. “You know, shopping for a navy blue cardigan for Zella Mason doesn’t seem so bad right now.”

  My phone vibrated on the night stand and I thought maybe I was getting my wish.

  I grabbed it. An unfamiliar number appeared on the ID screen. Likely it was one of my off-listers. Some of them called me direct.

  “Must be a fashion emergency,” I said to Gizmo, then answered.

  “Hey, Kansas, you awake?”

  Dan Kincaid—definitely not a person I had the slightest bit of interest in talking go.

  “What do you know about a classic Corvette?” he asked.

  “Everything.”

  “Meet me in a half hour.”

  “How did you get my number?”

  “I’ll text you the address—”

  “No.”

  “It’s not far. You can get there in—”

  “No!” I said again.

  Silence.

  “I’m not helping you,” I told him. “I helped you out with info on that car for that nerdy Kelvin guy, I made you look like a superhero and saved your client a ton of money. And how did you repay me? By ratting me out to Louise. Forget it. I’m not helping you.”

  I ended the call and tossed my phone onto my night stand. Gizmo’s ears stood up.

  “Can you believe that guy?” I said. “I did him a favor, which I absolutely did not have to do. Then he sticks his nose into my business and blabs to my supervisor, and now I’m probably going to get fired. And then he has the gall to ask for another favor. Some nerve, huh?”

  Gizmo barked, louder this time.

  “Exactly,” I said, and rolled out of bed. “Come on. Let me get a quick shower, then I’ll walk you.”

  She followed me into the bathroom and stretched out on the mat while I showered, then trailed me back into the bedroom and waited patiently while I pulled on capris, a T-shirt, and tied my hair back in a ponytail.

  “As good as it’s going to get,” I said, looking in the mirror. “Right?”

  Gizmo yipped and wagged her tail.

  My doorbell rang, which was odd for any time, but especially early on a Saturday morning. I wondered—hoped—it was my neighbor Krystal asking if I wanted to do something today. She liked to visit antique shops, thrift stores, and hit estate sales, and had helped me find some great things to fix up my apartment on the cheap.

  I went into the living room and peered through the peep hole in the front door. Dan stood outside.

  “What the …?”

  A wave of anger shot through me as I yanked open the door.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded. “And I’m not helping you.”

  I tried to shut the door but he blocked it with his arm.

  “We’ve got our wires crossed, somehow,” he said, and pushed his way inside.

  I was forced back a few steps. “How do you know where I live?”

  “We need to get this straightened out, Kansas. Why do you—” Dan paused when Gizmo walked in from the bedroom. “What is that?”

  “It’s Gizmo,” I told him. “My dog.”

  “It’s a dog?” He frowned and his left eyebrow crept up. “You’re sure it’s not a mutant creature escaped from a lab somewhere?”

  “No, of course not.”

  His frown deepened. “A walking bedroom shoe?”

  I huffed irritable. “I don’t know why you’re here, and I don’t care. Please leave.”

  “You’re coming with me.”

  I huffed again, even more irritated now. “I’m not going to deal with that nerd Kelvin again, and whatever car he thinks he wants now.”

  “Me either,” Dan said. “I cancelled with him.”

  “You did?”

  He nodded. “I told him I had to kill somebody today.”

  Hearing him throw my accusation back at me made it sound kind of silly.

  “Let’s go get some coffee,” Dan said, nodding toward the door.

  “I can’t. I have to walk Gizmo.”

  He shrugged. “We’ll take her with us.”

  “She doesn’t like strangers,” I said.

  Dan knelt down. Gizmo trotted over, prancing around and wagging her tail, and licked his outstretched hand.

  “Traitor,” I mumbled.

  Dan grabbed Gizmo’s leash off of the end table by the sofa, then turned back to me gesturing toward the framed photo sitting there.

  “You’re a twin?” he asked.

  I glanced at the picture of Quinn and me that had been taken at Grandma Pearl’s cabin a few months before she died.

  “No, we just look a lot alike. People got us mixed up all the time,” I said. “And I’m not going anywhere with you. Why should I?”

  Dan squared his shoulders. “Because I’ve offended you and honestly, I have no idea what I’ve done.”

  I just stared at him.

  “I want you to explain it to me so we can clear the air,” he said.

  I kept staring.

  He drew a breath and, with some obvious effort, said, “Please.”

  “You think you can just waltz in here and demand that I go with you?” I asked.

  Dan clipped the leash onto Gizmo’s collar.

  “And take my dog?”

  “I have a way with females.” A grin pulled at his lips. “As you might soon find out.”

  He went out the front door, Gizmo trotting along beside him. I grabbed my tote, shoved my feet into a pair of sandals I’d left by the door, and followed.

  ***

  Before we’d left KCK, Brittany had Googled cheap places to live in Los Angeles. Cheap in L.A., of course, wasn’t exactly cheap. But we’d found a place to live, an apartment that had looked much more upscale in the website photos. Dealing with the prostitutes and druggies who’d also decided to live there, along with the sound of an occasional gunshot, was more than we could handle. We’d lasted only a few weeks before we’d lucked out and found an apartment on Tamarind Avenue, a nice place in a nice building in Franklin Village. Since Brittany left, I was managing the rent on my own pretty well, but things were tight.

  The apartment was worth the financial challenge. The neighborhood, which had once been home to major Hollywood stars back in the day, was compact, walkable, and safe. It was now largely p
opulated by hipsters and artists, and boasted an eclectic mix of trendy restaurants and shops. Tall, swaying palm trees lined the streets. Shrubs, flowering plants, and patches of green grass were plentiful, despite the densely packed apartment buildings and houses.

  We stepped out onto the sidewalk at the building’s entrance, Gizmo pulling at her leash, rearing to go. The Southern California morning was beautiful. Cars cruised by, pedestrians moved along, some of them walking their dogs.

  I stopped before we went any farther. Dan, still holding Gizmo’s leash, took another couple of steps before he realized I wasn’t next to them. I noticed then that he looked great, dressed in faded jeans, a dark polo shirt, and sporting a two-day growth of whiskers.

  “What?” he asked.

  I didn’t respond right away, but knew immediately that he had a lot of experience dealing with women.

  “Okay.” He moved closer and turned his back to the building. “Let’s do this. Right here. Right now.”

  “You ratted me out to Louise Thornton.”

  He put up one hand as if to ward off my accusation. “I didn’t rat you out to Louise.”

  “You didn’t tell her about seeing me on June Street?”

  “No.”

  Okay, so maybe I’d jumped to conclusions. Or Dan was lying.

  “So you just happened to be in my supervisor’s office for something totally unrelated? It’s some big coincidence?” I asked, and it sounded more like an accusation which really, it was.

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t tell Louise about that detective who questioned me?” I asked. “I saw you two talking.”

  “I’m friends with Mitch,” he said.

  It took me a few seconds to remember that was the detective’s first name.

  “We used to be friends. Pretty close friends. Times changed. We changed. Went in different directions.” Dan grinned. “When I saw him waiting, I thought he was there to investigate me.”

  Everything he said made sense, and he sounded sincere. Still, I wasn’t ready to let it go.

  “So why were you in Louise’s office talking to her?” I asked.

  “I asked her if you could help me with some shopping.”

  This I hadn’t expected.

  “I need an anniversary gift for my grandparents,” Dan said.