Dying for a Deal

by Cindy Sample

  A row of empty glass-walled cubicles greeted us.

  “Halloo,” I called out to the empty room.

  “Hello yourself,” shouted a male voice in the back of the office. “I’ll be right out.”

  Thirty seconds later, a six-foot-tall salesman greeted us with a smile so white it practically lit up the neutral office. His slick-backed hair gleamed as if he’d covered it with a coating of black lacquer.

  “Please sit down,” he said, pointing to two green tweed chairs in front of his desk. A cloud of musky aftershave caused me to cough. I chugged from my water bottle while he grabbed a third chair from the empty cubicle behind him.

  Once we were all seated, he introduced himself as Gregg “with two g’s” Morton. I glanced at his nameplate and contemplated whether I should inform him he was actually Gregg with three g’s, but decided it wasn’t relevant to our conversation.

  “So what can I do for you lovely ladies today?” His voice oozed enough charm to woo a cobra out of a basket.

  “We got a problem and you’re it,” Gran announced.

  “Well, we certainly can’t have that, can we?” he replied. “How can I help you?”

  Iris introduced our trio, explaining her situation to Gregg. He made sympathetic noises, jotting down notes on a small legal pad. While we were chatting, a short, stout man with reddish hair and a tall, slender blonde dressed in a tight-fitting sheath dress entered the office suite. They both glanced in as they walked down the corridor past Gregg’s office. The man entered a cubicle two stations behind the one we were seated in while the woman walked down the hallway to a larger office in the back.

  Iris finally wrapped up her story, and we all waited for Gregg’s response. Iris looked optimistic, while Gran sat with her skinny arms folded and a surly expression on her face. Gregg typed Iris’s name into his computer and scrolled through a variety of screens. After a couple of minutes he turned to face our trio, leaning forward and making individual eye contact with each of us. I had to commend the man on his body language. His posture and sympathetic expression gave us the impression he could solve Iris’s problem in a matter of minutes.

  “I can’t locate your name in our database. While I certainly sympathize with your situation,” he said, focusing his attention on Iris, “I’m positive no one in our company would charge a resale fee and then not follow through on the sale.” He pointed to a one-foot-tall brass trophy on his desk. “Our office received this award from the local chamber of commerce, confirming our dedication to our customers. Are you certain you didn’t confuse us with another timeshare sales company? There are a significant number of them out there and not all are as consumer-oriented as we are.”

  Iris looked flustered. “I didn’t bring the papers with me, but I’m positive it was this company. Although I suppose I might have mixed it up with one of the other places I dealt with.” Her shoulders slumped at this setback. Even her white curls seemed to wilt in response.

  Gran narrowed her eyes at the man. “Don’t think just because we’re old that you can get away with this scheme. Cheating widows out of thousands of dollars.” She grabbed the chamber of commerce trophy from his desk and waved it around. “This is unacceptable and we won’t stand for it.”

  Gregg stood and carefully eased the brass trophy from Gran’s grasp. “I assure you Timeshare Help would not tolerate such a practice. But we would be happy to sell your timeshare points for you. That is our specialty and we have a very successful track record.”

  The blonde stepped out of her office, gliding down the corridor in stylish four-inch heels.

  “Is there a problem, Gregg?” she asked, managing to sound both gracious and intimidating at the same time.

  “No, Kimberly, I have it covered,” Gregg said in a stiff tone.

  “No you don’t,” replied Gran before addressing Kimberly. “My friend, Iris, here got conned by one of your employees, and this guy claims that’s not possible.”

  Kimberly frowned at Gran. “That is quite unlikely. I’m sure your friend is merely confused.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but Iris spoke up first.

  “C’mon, Ginny,” she said. “Let’s go.” Iris fumbled with her handbag, which fell onto the floor. I bent over and returned it to her.

  “We’ll go,” Gran said, waving her finger in Gregg’s face, “but mark my words. We will be back.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  We walked out of the office with as much dignity as an octogenarian version of the Terminator, her flustered best friend, and a granddaughter could muster.

  “Well,” Gran said, “I sure told them.”

  “You certainly did,” I replied. “But I’m not sure that accomplished anything.”

  “Are you kidding? Didn’t you see how nervous I made the two of them?”

  Uh, no. But I didn’t have the heart to share my opinion. Iris chewed on her lower lip while we pondered our next move.

  “I’m sorry I dragged you all the way over here for nothing,” Iris apologized. “This stuff is so confusing. I guess I must have the wrong company like he said.”

  “It was worth visiting their office while we were in town,” I reassured her. “And I didn’t appreciate Gregg’s attitude. After we return to Placerville, I’ll stop by your house and pick up all of your paperwork. Then I can start reviewing it tomorrow.”

  “You’re so kind,” Iris replied. “You make your grandmother proud.”

  Gran and I beamed at each other.

  “We have a plan,” I said. “So let’s enjoy the rest of our day.”

  We stopped at the pizza parlor for sodas to go. Even in midafternoon the place bustled with activity and plenty of to-go orders like ours. I wondered if it was the quality of the pizzas or the handsome owner who drew in the mostly female clientele. One sip of my flat-tasting soda offered the answer. The dark-haired owner with the soulful eyes offered the only fizz.

  We decided to walk back to the casino. The sun shone and, due to the high altitude of six-thousand-plus feet, the high-sixties temp felt closer to eighty degrees. The walk back to the casinos was flat all the way so we took our time, stopping at a store here and there. The fresh mountain air with its piney scent invigorated me and was far more appealing than the stale smoke-filled casinos.

  We arrived back at Harrah’s with thirty minutes to kill before the bus was scheduled to leave. It allowed us enough time for a pit stop and a few minutes at the roulette wheel. The attractive female croupier reminded me of my daughter with her freckled face and long auburn curls trailing down her back. She flashed me a winsome smile so I went all out and placed twenty dollars on red. I doubled my bet and ended up with forty dollars, a huge win for a lightweight gambler like me. I gave Cherie, the croupier, a five-dollar tip, then went to cash in my winnings before I lost them on the slots.

  Gran and Iris also managed to add a few nickels to their wallets, so everyone wore smiles on the bus ride home. Herb, the white-haired, large-eared friend of Gran’s, insisted on occupying the seat next to her on the bus. I might have to do some detecting into Gran’s extracurricular activities one of these days.

  The bus returned to Placerville a few minutes after five. I dropped Gran off and drove Iris to her cute Craftsman-style cottage in downtown Placerville.

  I followed her up the crooked brick-lined path to her front porch and waited while she searched for the key. The smell of lemon oil tickled my nostrils as I entered her tidy foyer. Even though she was a half-century older than me, the woman was obviously a better housekeeper. Maybe I could add housecleaning to my daughter’s job description at the agency. I smiled imagining her expression when I informed her of her additional job duties.

  Iris told me to wait in her small parlor while she shuffled off to her office to retrieve the paperwork. I sank into a cushy flowered sofa far more comfortable than the hard bus seats.

  Just as I was pondering what to prepare for dinner my cell pinged. I pulled it from my purse to see a text from my mother. She
wondered what I thought of her bringing over lasagna for dinner for Bradford and her and the rest of my family.

  I quickly typed “Thanks,” followed by an emoji with the largest smile I could find, then stood to gather the pile of papers Iris held in her hands.

  “I’m afraid they’re not too tidy,” she said, “but everything should be there.”

  Given the fact I now held a five-inch-tall stack of documents, I certainly hoped it was the case. I felt bad leaving the widow alone, but I had a family to feed. Well, technically, I had a family I wanted to dine with. I promised Iris I’d get back to her sometime the next day.

  The pungent scent of garlic greeted me as I walked into my house. I love garlic bread, but it smelled like my mother’s version contained enough to take out an army of vampires. Tom, Bradford, and Ben sat at the oak table while my mother bustled around my kitchen. Her beige linen dress not only complemented her short platinum hair style, but it remained immaculate. How did she do that? If I were cooking lasagna, a trail of tomato sauce would already be decorating my ample chest.

  I kissed my husband and thanked my mother once again for bringing dinner.

  “I thought you might be delayed,” Mother said. “Whatever possessed you to go on a casino trip with your grandmother?”

  “She wanted to introduce me to her friend Iris,” I replied with a smile, “who is officially my first client.” I pointed to the stack of documents. “I’ll be working my way through the papers tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” cried Ben. “You can’t go to work tomorrow. You’re chap… chap…you know, going with us on the field trip to Gold Bug Mine tomorrow. You didn’t forget, did you?” he asked, his hazel eyes concerned under an overgrown thatch of messy chestnut hair.

  “A chaperone.” I mentally added “haircut for Ben” to my growing to-do list before responding. “Of course, I’ll be chaperoning your trip. Iris has waited this long to resolve her problem. Another day or two won’t matter.”

  “They got special hats and everything,” Ben informed me.

  “Hats?” I sent a puzzled glance to my husband.

  “Hard hats,” Tom explained. “And given your klutzy…” His voice tapered off at my glare. “Gotta wear protective gear in those mines. We can’t have our children getting hurt.”

  Bradford snorted. “Or your wife.”

  The sound of the oven timer going off muffled my uncomplimentary reply to my stepfather. Within minutes we were all enjoying an excellent meal. Between forkfuls of extra-cheesy lasagna, I updated the family on my new case.

  “An agent in my office has a client who’s been trying to clear up their credit report,” said my mother. “One of the disputed items was a delinquent timeshare loan.”

  “The guy we spoke with today emphasized their company would never swindle a client,” I replied.

  “Did you expect him to admit it?” asked Bradford, the most senior detective in the room.

  “Well, no. And we did catch him off guard by just showing up in the office. After I review Iris’s documents, I’ll have a better idea where she stands. So how was your day? Any new cases while I was sleuthing with the seniors?”

  Bradford nodded. “Yeah, we got a call from a woman who wants to meet with us. I set it up for Friday. She wouldn’t disclose her problem over the phone, but she works at Hangtown Bank. You might remember her.”

  “Who is it?” I knew almost everyone at Hangtown Bank from the time I’d worked there.

  “Adriana Menzinger,” Bradford replied. “The name sounded familiar to me. Does it ring a bell?”

  I almost choked on my half-chewed piece of garlic bread. Adriana’s name didn’t just ring a bell. It chimed louder than Big Ben at midnight.

  Now why would my former boss need help from our agency?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I was dying to know why Adriana had contacted our firm, but I’d have to wait until her Friday appointment. Depending on her needs, I could end up with my second client.

  Although I’d prefer a client who wasn’t such a witch.

  There was a witch or two among the mommies accompanying their children on the field trip the next day. One woman suffered a meltdown worthy of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills when she learned that hard hats were optional for kids but mandatory for anyone over five-feet-two-inches tall. Heaven forbid her perfect coiffure get squashed under the protective helmet.

  Another mother declared the mine too scary for her daughter. My rugged kids, and I included Kristy in that description, couldn’t wait to check it out. As far as they were concerned, the darker, dirtier, and scarier the better.

  My cell rang as we were about to enter the mine. The docent frowned so I silenced it and shoved it into the side pocket of my purse without looking. Probably another one of those darn telemarketers who called my cell intermittently all day long. Despite being on the Do Not Call list. Someone ought to do something about them.

  And maybe I would, but first things first. We had a cave to explore.

  My phone vibrated once and then a second time. Geesh. I would have thought there would be no reception inside the dark mine. I slipped the phone out of my purse and looked at the recent calls. All from my grandmother’s cell instead of her home phone. That couldn’t be good. And why wasn’t she at home today?

  I turned the ringer back on and dialed her cell. She picked up on the third ring, gasping out my name.

  “Gran, what is it?” I tried to keep my voice low so the docent wouldn’t chastise me. But between my hard hat and the noisy third-graders voices echoing throughout the small cavern, it was impossible to understand what my grandmother was saying.

  I punched the speaker button and Gran’s voice boomed out over the speaker, caroming around the limestone walls.

  “Help,” she yelled. “We got a murder.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Two dozen wide-eyed children stared at me while their parents looked aghast. One little girl began to cry. The docent strode up to me and glared, his bulbous nose almost touching mine.

  “Ms. McKay, please take your detective business outside. I’m attempting to conduct a tour here.”

  “Sorry,” I said to him, “it’s my grandmother on the phone.”

  He stepped back, a concerned look on his ruddy face. “Oh, is Ginny okay?” Evidently my grandmother’s charitable work in the community, as well as her role as El Dorado Rose a few years back, gave her more credibility than I had.

  “That’s what I need to find out. Can I go back outside the entrance and complete my call while you finish the tour?”

  He nodded and I picked my way down the gravel and dirt path, still trying to hear my grandmother’s garbled words.

  Once I passed through the timbered exit of the mine, I removed my hard hat. “Gran, what’s going on? Did you say someone was murdered? Where the heck are you?”

  “I’m in Tahoe and the answer is yes.”

  I couldn’t stop the questions from coming. “Where? Why? What are you doing there?” I screeched.

  “You were tied up with Ben’s field trip, so Iris and I decided to take a field trip of our own back up here. Remember my friend Herb?”

  “Herb? The guy with the jug ears? What does he have to do with any of this?”

  “I asked him to drive us to that timeshare place. Herb’s real accommodating if you know how to wet his whistle.” She cackled, making me cringe. The last thing I wanted to know was how one wet a senior’s whistle. The first thing I wanted to know was who was dead.

  “Is Iris okay?”

  “Well, she kind of fainted when we discovered the dead guy. The police aren’t too happy with us. Said she messed up the crime scene when she landed on top of him.”

  “Gran, who is him?” I asked between clenched teeth.

  “Oh, sorry. Remember the timeshare guy we spoke with yesterday? Gregg with two g’s?”

  “Technically, it’s three g’s,” I felt compelled to say. “Is he there now?”

  “More or l
ess. And I don’t think it matters how many g’s you put in his name. He’s the dead guy.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Gran, this is terrible news,” I said, my heart sinking almost as low as the mine shaft. “Are you on your way home?”

  “I’m not sure the police will let us go. They kinda suspect we might have bashed the guy’s head in.”

  “Why would they think that?” I couldn’t imagine why the police would think Gran or Iris capable of a physical assault on the much younger man.

  “That nasty female manager told them I threatened Gregg yesterday when I grabbed that trophy and waved it around.”

  “That’s plain stupid.”

  “Sure is, except my fingerprints are on it along with a lot of his blood, and no one else’s, so far as they’ve told me.”

  “Do you want me to come up there? They haven’t arrested you or anything?”

  “No, although they keep giving us the evil eye. So far, they just want us to sit tight in case they have more questions.” She sighed. “Herb’s got cataracts and he don’t see well at night so I hope this doesn’t take too much longer.”

  I shuddered at the thought of Gran’s elderly friend weaving his way down Highway 50 in the daylight, much less driving at night.

  “I’m stuck on this field trip with the kids and don’t even have a car. Did you call Mom yet?”

  “Are you kidding? Your mother would bawl me out if she knew we’d driven up here by ourselves.”

  “You are right about that. Expect to hear from her soon.”

  I ended the call and dialed my mother’s cell. She picked up immediately.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her maternal intuition kicking in. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Enjoying the tour of the mine with the kids.”

  “And you chose the middle of the mine tour to call me?”