Shop Til You Drop Dead (A Hollis Brannigan Mystery)

by Dorothy Howell

  “She must have been so glad to leave that place,” I said.

  “Her parents carried on like that whole thing had never happened. Her father still expected her to marry well, into a family who was worthy of her, of them,” Sadie said. “By the time she got home, he’d already picked out a husband for her.”

  “Conrad Bagley,” I said.

  Sadie nodded. “I know Edith didn’t love Conrad, not the way a wife should love her husband. But it was the only way to get back into her father’s good graces. And really, after what Edith had been through, and since she couldn’t have Drew, I don’t think she really cared one way or the other.”

  I remembered that Sadie had moved with Edith to the June Street mansion after she’d married Conrad.

  “It’s good that you and Edith were close,” I said. “You knew everything she’d been through. She didn’t have to pretend. I’m sure you were a comfort to her.”

  “I think I was. I hope so, anyway.” Sadie paused on the walkway and turned to me. “How’d you find out about this?”

  She didn’t wait for a response, thankfully.

  “Have you been talking to Drew? Is that what he’s telling now?” She shook her head. “Poor man. His mind is going. I hear him spouting off to anybody who’ll listen about him and Edith, telling things that nobody else should hear. Most people in this place think he’s making it up. It’s not unusual. A lot of folks do that, concoct things. So many cloudy minds here.”

  I glanced across the garden to the community room. Phil and Lisa were standing at the windows, watching us.

  “I don’t understand,” I said to Sadie. “Edith is paying for Drew’s care here, and for the renovations on his house. After everything she went through, why would she do that?”

  “I guess, despite everything, she still loved him.”

  “It had to have been more than that,” I said.

  Sadie stopped on the walkway and threw a quick look across the garden to the window of the community room.

  “We’d better go,” she said, and hurried back along the walkway.

  “What about the money and the gun inside Edith’s secret room?” I asked. “Why is it there? Did it have something to do with Drew?”

  I followed Sadie into the building. She kept walking, and I knew I’d lost her. I couldn’t give up, though.

  “Those things, they’re connected to Drew aren’t they?”

  She ignored my question.

  “Please, Sadie,” I said, and stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. “It’s important, very important. Tell me what happened.”

  She shook her head, avoiding eye contact. “Best to leave it alone. Just leave it in the past, where it belongs.”

  “But it’s not in the past, not anymore.”

  Sadie walked away. I let her go.

  At least she’d confirmed what I’d suspected. Yet I was left with another, bigger question: why was Edith taking care of Drew?

  I wouldn’t have been so generous. If a guy had gotten me pregnant, and I’d been sent away, and my life had been taken over by my parents and the husband they’d picked out for me, that guy would have hoped I never got my hands on him.

  But maybe Sadie was right. Maybe, somehow, Edith still loved Drew, even after everything she’d been through.

  An ache of longing rose in me.

  What would it feel like to love someone that much—and to have them love you that much in return?

  I headed for the exit, anxious to get out of there, get some fresh air, as other possibilities popped into my head. Had Edith intended to give the cash that she’d hidden in her secret room to Drew as some sort of compensation for the way her father had treated him? I didn’t like to think that Drew had attempted to blackmail Edith, but people sometimes did desperate things when they needed money.

  Of course, neither of those scenarios explained the handgun. For an instant I almost hoped that Edith had squirreled away that cash and bought the pistol for herself with the notion that, if things got unbearable with Conrad, she would shoot her way out and use the money to start a new life.

  As I crossed the parking lot and dropped into my car, something Sadie had told me slammed into my thoughts. That bit of information clicked into place, and I gasped aloud realizing exactly what it meant.

  Drew’s mind was slipping. He insisted to everyone who’d listen—or was within earshot—that he was connected to Edith. Had his rantings included the secret room in Edith’s bedroom? The money hidden inside?

  Edith had led an exemplary life. The only thing she’d ever done wrong was fall in love with a man her parents didn’t approve of, become pregnant, and get sent away. All of that had been because of Drew. The money and handgun in the secret room were connected to him, somehow. They had to be.

  A wave of anxiety swept up my back.

  Someone here at Vista Village had heard Drew bragging about the money hidden in Edith’s room. Edith was a frequent visitor here. Everyone knew who she was, knew she was wealthy. Ike Meador had told me how everyone catered to her, watched over her, made sure she was comfortable.

  That meant someone here had broken into Edith’s house, gone to her bedroom, attempted to steal the money and, in the process, had killed Edith.

  I imagined Edith waking up, finding a stranger in her room, screaming. The shock alone could have brought on a heart attack. Or more likely, whoever the culprit was had silenced her.

  Yet just across the hall was Allison. Had she slept through the entire ordeal? Genevieve had caught her drinking. I’d smelled liquor on her breath when I’d gone to her house. Had she been drunk, passed out, and not known what was going on?

  Another icky feeling came over me.

  Had Allison heard the noise, gotten up, gone to investigate, and interrupted the culprit? More likely, that’s what had happened, since the money wasn’t actually discovered and stolen. Allison hadn’t called the police that night because she’d been drinking. The next morning Edith was dead, and telling the authorities about the intruder was unthinkable; Allison must have felt she got off easy.

  Yet Edith’s murderer thought Allison could identify him. I was sure that was the reason Allison had been run down.

  It wasn’t hard to figure out who that person was.

  On my last visit here, I’d told Sadie about Allison. I’d explained that I was going to see her. The murderer probably hadn’t known Allison’s name or where to find her until I’d unwittingly provided that information.

  Both Phil and Lisa were in the community room that day. One of them had murdered both Edith and Allison. But which one?

  Phil. It had to be Phil. I’d seen how he’d intervened with Drew’s care, nudged Lisa out of the way, catered to him, put himself into a position to hear Drew’s ramblings. And Phil was a really big guy. Silencing Edith, frail and helpless in her bed, would have required little effort on his part.

  I started my car, backed out of the space, and circled past the entrance to the employee parking lot.

  Edith’s neighbor on June Street had filed a police report about a suspicious car parked there. A dark car, maybe a Mustang, maybe a Camaro, maybe something else. Mitch had told me the vehicle that had run down Allison was described by a witness as dark, make and model unknown.

  When Mitch had asked me to have coffee with him at The Grove and explained that I was no longer a suspect, I should have asked him for the info on the vehicle that had been caught on the surveillance video. Stupid of me, not to think of it. I’d been so caught up in my relief that I’d been cleared, and wondering just how social Mitch’s so-called social visit really was, that I hadn’t thought to ask.

  I cruised through the aisles of the employee parking lot. Apparently, health-care workers weren’t raking in the bucks because almost every vehicle here was old. Not ancient, but nothing newer than several years. Black and navy blue seemed to be the color of choice. I paused by each car that vaguely resembled the suspect vehicle, and snapped a photo of the license plate.r />
  The vehicle that had killed Allison had been borrowed from the elderly, housebound owner. Running the plate numbers through DMV would verify that one of these cars was, in fact, the one that had killed Allison, and lead to the person—Phil, I was sure—who’d driven it that day. Once that was established, the cops could use that same evidence—hair, fibers, fingerprints—to connect Phil to Edith’s death.

  It was a long shot, of course. But I didn’t have anything else to go on.

  As I tucked my phone into my tote, I headed for the exit, berating myself once again for not asking Mitch for the make and model of the suspect vehicle that had killed Allison.

  It hit me then that the info about the car wasn’t the only thing I’d forgotten to ask, this time of Sadie.

  What happened to the baby?

  Chapter 24

  I couldn’t give Mitch the photos I’d taken of the vehicles in the Vista Village employee parking lot. He’d want to know why I suspected one of these cars had run down Allison. I couldn’t tell him without also explaining my involvement in Edith’s murder, which would likely lead back to Fisher Joyce. Plus I questioned whether he’d even take my suspicion and theory seriously. Would he really believe that I, a personal shopper, had found the murderer in a homicide he’d been unable to solve?

  Meredith could run the plates for me. Still, it would take some investigating to connect an employee of Vista Village—Phil, if my suspicion was correct—to the owner of the car that had been used to kill Allison. I wasn’t sure how I’d do that without involving the police and their forensics experts.

  When I got off the elevator on the sixth floor I headed to the investigations department. I hoped that if I gave the info to Meredith now she could get back to me this afternoon. I saw her in the hallway.

  “I was just coming to find you. Oh my God, you’re not going to believe this,” she declared, her eyes wide, her breathing quick.

  I could tell this wasn’t simply idle gossip. Something big had happened.

  We ducked into the ladies restroom. Meredith checked the stalls—all empty—but still leaned close and lowered her voice as we stood by the row of washbasins.

  “Major trouble in investigations,” she told me. “One of the techs got audited.”

  “Audited? They do that?”

  “It’s something new. Management just sprang it on her, out of nowhere,” Meredith said, looking both alarmed and bewildered.

  “What kind of audit are they doing?”

  “Something about misappropriation of company resources,” she said.

  Now I understood Meredith’s near panic.

  An icky knot jerked in my stomach.

  “My sister. You started searching for my sister. Oh my God, Meredith, I never meant to get you in trouble.”

  “I know, I know. That’s why I was coming to find you. I wanted to tell you what was going on. I can’t look for her anymore. I don’t dare.”

  “Of course not,” I agreed.

  “I already deleted everything I did, so I should be in the clear and you should be, too,” Meredith said, then closed her eyes for a few seconds, thinking. “The only thing I’ve done for you lately is for that old lady with the black dress, that Cain woman, and that missing dog.”

  The icky knot jerked tighter.

  “So, thank God.” Meredith heaved a big sigh and clutched her chest. “I’m okay on everything.”

  My head started to pound.

  “That other tech, the one who got audited,” I said. “Is she going to lose her job?”

  “I haven’t heard,” Meredith said. “But let me know what happens in hospitality.”

  “Why?”

  “I heard somebody there is getting fired.”

  ***

  I took a few minutes to slow my runaway heartrate, then left Meredith in the ladies room and went to the hospitality department. The event planners were in their cubicles, working the phone. Bailey and the other shoppers were already out for the day.

  Louise hadn’t sent me any orders from my off-listers, which did nothing to calm my fear that I was the one getting fired. I didn’t like living like this. If I was losing my job, I wanted to know now.

  I stepped into the doorway of Louise’s office. She sat mesmerized by her computer, her phone wedged between her shoulder and cheek while she dug through her tote.

  Like the last time I was here I didn’t expect to be immediately acknowledged, so I was surprised when she spared me a glance.

  “Nothing for you,” she said, and turned away. Just like that. As if I no longer mattered.

  Now I wasn’t afraid. Now I was annoyed.

  I moved to the front of her desk.

  “I’m shopping for that guy in investigations today, the one who wanted a gift for his grandparents,” I told her. “And I’m finishing up with Carlotta Cain.”

  Louise looked up from her computer, surprised. I ignored her, signed for the corporate card, and left.

  It was doubtful that Louise would chase me through the office complex to fire me, but I didn’t want to chance it. I took the elevator to the parking garage and yanked my phone out of my tote as soon as the doors opened.

  Only one person could help me now. And he was damn well going to do it.

  I swiped through my contacts and smacked the button. He answered right away.

  “Hey, Kansas. Look, I’m in the middle of—”

  “I’m in the parking garage. Get down here.”

  “Like I said, I’m—”

  “Now!”

  By the time the valet brought around a BMW for me, the elevator doors opened and Dan walked out. He had on jeans, a sport coat, an open collared dress shirt, and a frown that said he was somewhere between intrigued and worried.

  I slid behind the wheel. “Get in.”

  He got in.

  I drove to June Street and parked down the block from Edith’s house. I was sure Dan recognized the location but he didn’t say anything. I stared straight ahead, my hands still on the steering wheel.

  “What’s going on?”

  He asked in that tone of voice men use sometimes, the one that’s strong, comforting, the one that said you could count on him, he’s in it for the long haul.

  “I need your help,” I said.

  He paused a few seconds. “Yes, I heard someone in hospitality was getting fired.”

  “No, not that.” I turned to him. “I need your help to catch a murderer.”

  ***

  “Damn, Kansas …”

  Dan shook his head and blew out a heavy breath. He didn’t get rattled often, but I’d just done it.

  He’d wanted to walk and talk; the BMW was too confining for a problem this big. Dog walkers, nannies pushing strollers, health workers in scrubs passed us by on the quiet street as I’d asked him if he had a connection at the DMV to run the license plates I’d photographed at Vista Village. He’d insisted on knowing everything.

  I told him about Andy Edmonds and his missing dog case; the cash and handgun in the secret room; my certainty that Edith’s murder and the hit-and-run that had killed Allison were connected; and my equal certainty that Phil at Vista Village was behind both deaths.

  “I know that Drew talked a lot about his connection to Edith, so that’s how Phil knew about the cash in her secret room,” I explained.

  I didn’t know how Drew had found out about the secret room but it was the only connection I knew of, the only thing that made sense; with Edith dead and Drew’s mind going, it may never become known.

  “Phil knew Edith was wealthy—everyone at Vista Village knew,” I said.

  “You think this Phil guy—”

  “Phil Leonard,” I said, remembering the name tag he’d worn when I’d seen him at Vista Village.

  “You think he overheard Drew talking about the cash hidden in Edith’s house and tried to steal it?” Dan asked.

  “I think he checked out the place first because a neighbor made a police report about a strange car parked on
the street,” I said. “Then Phil came back at night and sneaked onto the property. He tried to open one of the windows, which set off the alarm. Edith ignored the security company’s advice to upgrade the system, or else she forgot about it, so when Phil came back again the window opened with no problem.”

  “He found his way upstairs and killed Edith?” Dan asked, then shook his head. “Why didn’t he take the money?”

  “Allison interrupted him, scared him off. She left the house the next morning as soon as the police showed up. I’m pretty sure it was because she’d been drinking and didn’t want to admit that she’d seen an intruder but was more concerned about herself than the woman she was supposed to be caring for. She’d never get another job in the health care industry if it became known that she was drinking on the job. She probably thought it would be easier to walk away and hope everybody thought Edith had died of natural causes, which is exactly what happened.”

  “So how did Phil figure out who Allison was and that she could connect him to the crime?”

  I cringed. “I’m afraid that was my fault. When I was at the retirement home talking to Sadie I mentioned Allison’s involvement. Phil was there. He must have overheard and decided to get rid of Allison, the only person who could recognize him as the intruder and murderer.”

  We paused near the corner where the Pro-One Security van was parked in a driveway. Dan looked down at me and a grin pulled at one corner of his mouth.

  “You figured this out? All by yourself?”

  I didn’t want to tell him that Meredith had helped, albeit unwittingly. I doubted he’d rat her out but it’s always better to protect a source.

  “None of it will matter if I can’t find out whether or not one of those cars at Vista Village was involved in this thing. It’s the only way to tie Phil to Allison’s murder and then connect him to Edith’s,” I said.

  Dan was quiet but I could almost see his mind working, putting the pieces together, deciding whether or not they formed a complete picture.

  “Have you got a contact at the DMV? Can you run the plates?” I asked. “Will you?”