Dying for a Deal

by Cindy Sample

  “Take it easy, kiddo,” Gran said as we hugged. “You’re looking kind of flushed. Wouldn’t want you to have a heart attack, too.” She emphasized the last word of her greeting then cocked her head to the right, indicating I should follow her into her parlor.

  Normally, Gran’s blue and pink flower-sprigged wallpaper, white wainscoting and comfortable wing chairs with homey needlepoint pillows provided a welcome refuge for me. I’d spent much of my childhood playing in this room while she babysat me and my older brother when Mother had to work at the real estate office.

  But today, the two officers in their pressed navy uniforms tarnished the room’s ambiance. Even more irritating was the identity of one of the officers.

  “Detective Reynolds, what are you doing here?” I asked the attractive dark-haired woman who previously partnered with my husband in both the El Dorado County Sheriff’s Office and the San Francisco Police Department years earlier. Last fall they’d worked together in an undercover operation. Ali Reynolds played the role of Tom’s girlfriend during that particular investigation. She didn’t bother to hide her desire to continue in her role long after the case had been solved.

  Her appearance in my grandmother’s house did not improve my agitated state.

  “Didn’t Tom tell you?” she asked. “I switched to the Tahoe P.D.”

  “No,” I replied. “He probably didn’t think it was important enough to mention.”

  Her face darkened and I instantly regretted my snarky remark. The last thing I needed to do was annoy one of the detectives interrogating my grandmother. I quickly switched gears.

  “Congratulations on your new position. It’s beautiful up there.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me but merely nodded.

  “So what brings you down the hill to Placerville?” I asked cheerily.

  “As I’m sure you know, your grandmother is a person of interest in the murder of Gregg Morton. We need to conduct an in-depth interview with her. If she wishes to arrange for an attorney to be present, it’s within her rights.”

  “I think I’ll plead the fifth,” Gran said. “Of gin.” She chuckled but the rest of us remained silent. The detectives had driven a long way. This was no laughing matter for them.

  “Gran, why don’t you make some coffee for these nice officers,” I suggested, figuring Gran was less likely to get in trouble if she were out of the room. Ali and her partner, whom she introduced as Sergeant Gomez seemed to welcome the suggestion. Gran bustled out of the parlor, and we got down to business.

  “So you have questions for Gran,” I stated.

  “Obviously,” Ali said sarcastically. “We’re not here to sightsee. Now, do you want to arrange for legal counsel for your grandmother?”

  “I work in the detective agency with Tom, so Gran is technically my client. Does that count as representation for now?”

  Ali snorted. “I can’t believe that after stumbling into a few murder situations, you think you’re equipped to work for an actual detective agency.”

  Some things never change. Once a bitch, always a bitch. I kept my cool and simply reiterated that I’d like to sit in on their interview.

  “You don’t need to take my grandmother back to Tahoe, do you?” I asked as Gran brought out mugs of coffee for everyone.

  “Tahoe?” Gran asked, her eyes gleaming bright. “Can you drop me off at the casino when we’re done chatting?”

  “Gran, this is serious. Please sit down and answer the detectives’ questions.”

  Gran settled into her bentwood rocking chair and, for a brief moment, the only sound in the room was the creaking of the decades-old rocker.

  Ali pulled out an iPad and thumbed through a few screens. Gomez broke the silence by complimenting Gran on her coffee.

  “Only the best for the fuzz,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

  Ali rolled her eyes and began questioning Gran. “We understand you threatened bodily harm to the victim the day before he was found murdered. Why did you threaten him?”

  “He was trying to pull a fast one on my friend. I wanted to incent him”—Gran made air quotes—“to come clean and fess up.”

  Ali looked puzzled. She turned her attention to me. “Can you interpret what your grandmother just said?”

  I gave the detectives a brief summary of why the three of us were in the timeshare office the day before the murder. I added that it was the first time Gran had met Gregg Morton. “So obviously she had no reason to kill him.”

  “She had no real reason to threaten him either,” Ali replied. “Based on what you just told me.”

  Gran hung her head and gave them an abject look. “Sometimes I get a little carried away. No harm, no foul, you know.”

  “Except someone did get harmed, and so far you’re the only person with a grudge against our victim,” Ali said to Gran.

  “Surely you have other suspects, other unhappy clients,” I said. “It’s been five days since he was killed. What have you guys been doing all this time?”

  Ali glared at me. “Our job. Which is why we’ll be taking your grandmother up to our office. Now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “You can’t do that,” I shouted and placed a hand on her forearm.

  “Try and stop us,” Ali replied with an insincere smile, brushing my hand away. “Yes, why don’t you try and stop us. Then we can bring you in on an obstruction of justice charge.”

  I watched, mouth agape, while the other officer read Gran her rights as he led her out of her house.

  “Don’t worry, Laurel.” Gran winked at me as they escorted her into the backseat of their squad car. I supposed I should be grateful they didn’t handcuff her, but the idea of my petite grandmother committing a murder was so ridiculous, I felt like whacking both detectives on their hard and stupid heads.

  What to do now? Since I was today’s designated family chauffeur, I couldn’t drop everything and follow the officials back to Tahoe. I texted Tom, Bradford and Mother about what had occurred and waited for their replies.

  Mother was the first to respond. “How could you let them take your grandmother away?” she asked.

  “I didn’t have a choice, Mom. They threatened to arrest me for interfering. Remember Ali Reynolds, the female detective Tom used to work with?”

  “I do,” she replied in a puzzled voice.

  “She’s the lead detective. I think she’s still mad Tom ended up marrying me.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Although it’s equally ludicrous they arrested your grandmother.”

  “I’m not sure Gran was officially arrested, even if they insisted on driving her up to their office in Tahoe. But they claim there are no other suspects at this point.”

  “Then you better go find some for them.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Tom called twenty minutes later. He and Bradford were tied up with witness interviews on behalf of the District Attorney, but he promised to give Ali a call and get the real story.

  “Now don’t get your hopes up, Laurel. Just because Ali and I worked together previously doesn’t mean she’ll tell me anything. I’m a private investigator now, and she doesn’t need to share diddly-squat with me.”

  “Well, you have my permission to use your famous Hunter charm on her,” I said with a reluctant sigh.

  He laughed. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. But don’t count on it.” He lowered his voice. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really. But don’t worry about me. You need to work your magic on Ali.”

  Tom promised to call Ali’s cell right away and also to get the name of some good criminal defense attorneys in Tahoe. Just in case.

  I decided to find another chauffeur to pick up the kids from school. Just in case.

  An hour later I was back on Highway 50 heading east toward Lake Tahoe, but I was not alone and not in my SUV. An extremely pregnant woman sat in the passenger seat next to me, the seat belt of her Jaguar convertible barely making it over her baby belly.

 
; “Thanks for letting me tag along,” said Liz. “When I’m at the spa, I drive all the staff crazy, and when I’m home alone I make myself crazy.”

  “Are you sure it’s okay for you to be going to Tahoe?” Even though I’d birthed two babies, I felt zero desire to play a role in Liz’s delivery.

  “Of course. And the change in altitude might encourage this little bugger to come out. This will be the last time I can enjoy the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. Next week we trade in this car for something more practical.” She turned to gaze out the window. “I haven’t been up here in a while. The river is roaring.”

  I peeked at the river on my right before returning my vigilant gaze to the road. Normally this time of year, a few intrepid kayakers would be barreling down the American River, but with the currents fast and freezing cold, there didn’t appear to be any daredevils willing to risk their lives.

  We spent the next hour chatting about babies. It had only been eight years since Ben was born, but the number of items invented to assist new moms boggled my mind. In no time at all we arrived at the South Lake Tahoe Police Department.

  We entered the rock-walled lobby and through an automatic door into the reception area. I told the clerk seated behind a thick glass window that we were there to pick up my grandmother, Virginia Sprinkle. The clerk made a call, then told us Gran was still being interviewed by the two detectives.

  “Should we sit here and wait until she’s done?” I asked Liz, whose stomach gurgled in response.

  “I’m starving. Why don’t we lunch on the lake? This could be one of the last times I can enjoy a peaceful meal for the next few months.”

  I smiled, fully aware it could be the last time Liz enjoyed a relaxing lunch for the next eighteen years.

  We settled on Riva Grille, a mutual favorite, perched next to the lake. The overhead umbrellas protected us from the sun and the breeze off the lake helped cool down my overheated friend.

  Shortly after we’d ordered, our server seated nearby a middle-aged man wearing a red polo shirt. He was accompanied by a young woman, possibly his daughter as there was a slight resemblance. He glanced in our direction but didn’t seem to recognize me, although I remembered him.

  I leaned in to whisper to Liz. “That’s one of the guys who works at Timeshare Help.”

  She whispered back, “Do you think he’s the killer?”

  I sat back in my chair. I hadn’t bothered to contemplate who the killer might be. I only knew it couldn’t be my grandmother. “I don’t know. I can’t just go and ask him now, can I?”

  “That might have been your M.O. in the past, but now that you’re a real detective, you should probably be more subtle.” Liz broke into a wide smile as our server approached with a Cobb salad for me and a plate piled high with pasta and chicken marinara for Liz.

  “It might be a while before they let Gran go,” I said, optimistically believing she would be released eventually. “Maybe after lunch we should stop at the timeshare office. You look like someone who could be in the market to purchase one of those resale units. They’re perfect for a growing family.”

  Liz pointed her breadstick at me. “You sound like a salesperson yourself. Do I really look like a believable prospect?”

  I eyed her bulging belly and nodded. “Yep, and if nothing else, it should be a speedy presentation.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  After the timeshare salesman settled his bill and walked out with his companion, we waited ten minutes, hoping that was sufficient time for him to return to his office. In the interim, I checked in with the SLTPD. Gran was still stuck in the interview room. I wondered whose fault that was. As a young child, my grandmother’s ability to detect the smallest white lie was annoying. Knowing her curious nature, Gran could be grilling the detectives even more than they were grilling her.

  Liz and I drove the one short block to the timeshare office. I parked the car, then ran around the vehicle to open the passenger door. Although her convertible was beautiful, when it came to the interior, it wasn’t too accommodating for pregnant women. Especially women the size of my friend.

  “How much weight have you gained?” I asked when she tripped and almost knocked me over. I’m not exactly on the light side, but Liz seemed to have doubled her pre-pregnancy weight.

  “Too much,” she said in a dejected tone. “Once the nausea disappeared, I worked my way through the Safeway cookie and candy aisle. Since I can’t have caffeine or wine, I settled for chocolate.”

  Evidently, a boatload of chocolate, based on her appearance. Or maybe she was toting a fifteen-pound baby in her belly.

  I opened the door to the timeshare office and ushered her inside. The crime scene tape had been removed, which made sense since the murder had occurred five days earlier. I crossed my fingers hoping the crabby manager would be out on her lunch break.

  The man we’d seen earlier at the Riva Grille sat behind a desk in the same cubicle he’d been in on my previous visit. He held a cell phone to his ear, but he waved at us, so I gathered he wanted us to wait for him to finish his call. The second it ended, he hustled out of his office to greet us.

  “Hello, hello,” he said, shaking each of our hands. His gray eyes bugged out when they landed on Liz’s belly. “My name is Marty Fenton. How can I help you today?”

  Liz assumed her role without missing a beat. “As you can see, my family will be increasing any day now.” She looked down at her belly in case he didn’t get the picture. “It’s so lovely in the mountains, and I thought a timeshare would be perfect for future vacations. I live in El Dorado Hills so it’s just a ninety-minute drive up here. My friend and I noticed your sign and decided to drop in.”

  “You’ve certainly come to the right place. Our company offers a huge variety of timeshare weeks for sale. You’ll be pleased when you see what kinds of deals are out there. Follow me to my office.”

  Liz waddled down the corridor and I followed in her wake. We sat in the chairs across from Marty’s tidy desk. The only adornment was a photo of Marty and three strawberry-haired girls lovingly surrounding him. I leaned closer and confirmed he’d dined with his daughter. That made me feel better. Not that I presumed he was chasing after young girls, but still. Considering his line of work, I much preferred dealing with a family man.

  He handed us each a trifold flyer covered with scenic photos of various projects and a three-page list of available timeshare weeks for sale.

  “My goodness,” said Liz in her most posh accent, “such a wealth of options to choose from.” She batted her eyelashes at him. Even at eight months pregnant, Liz could still flirt with the best of them. “Are there any deals you consider better than others? You are the expert here.”

  Marty blushed and leaned forward, an instant addition to Liz’s long list of male conquests. “There are so many different types of units to choose from. Why don’t you tell me more about you and”—a disappointed look crossed his face as he noticed the large rock on Liz’s left hand—“and your husband’s interests.”

  “Well, we love skiing and boating. I suppose a week in Lake Tahoe would be the most practical purchase. Although it would be nice to travel elsewhere, Hawaii, Florida, Mexico,” she elaborated. “Do you have timeshares for sale there as well?”

  Marty’s face lit up at the thought of selling multiple destinations to a new client. He spent the next half hour describing the “best” deals in various projects. The prices for the resales ranged as high as $25,000 and as low as one dollar.

  “Why would someone sell their timeshare for only a dollar?” Liz asked him. “Talk about a deal!”

  “Sometimes people run into financial difficulties and find it difficult to pay their annual maintenance fees. Or if they’re suffering from a medical issue and can’t make use of the unit, it’s just not practical to own the timeshare any longer.”

  I scanned the list he’d presented to us earlier, stopping at a listing at a high-end fifteen-year-old project on the south shore of
Lake Tahoe that had been marketed quite heavily at its inception. “I remember when these weeks first went on sale,” I said. “My husband and I went to a presentation. Back then one week in peak season was going for around $35,000. There are several on your list that are asking only $5,000. How come?”

  “It could be a number of reasons,” Marty replied. “People purchase the timeshare weeks, then discover they aren’t able to use them as much as they originally anticipated. That’s why I enjoy my job so much. I can present you with the deal of the century with these resale options.”

  Deal of the century? Now why did I doubt that?

  “Oh, dear, I’m not sure this would be such a wise decision after all,” Liz said. “So many of these sellers have lost a small fortune since they first purchased their units.”

  “It’s only because they purchased directly from the timeshare developer,” Marty assured her. “By buying a timeshare through our company, you can save tens of thousands of dollars.”

  “Some of those buyers must be so frustrated,” I mused. “Have you ever encountered an irate customer, Marty?”

  He shook his head so vehemently, I worried he’d get whiplash. “Oh, no, our customers couldn’t be more pleased with our services.” He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out two sheets of paper. “Check out these glowing testimonials. We’ve even received a service award from the local chamber of commerce.”

  Marty’s face clouded over. I wondered if he’d just remembered that award had turned into a bloody murder weapon.

  His comment provided the perfect opening. “I read that one of your sales associates was killed here in this office last week,” I said. “By a client?”

  “Heavens, no.” Marty’s thick sandy eyebrows rose a full inch. “Actually, the police don’t know who the culprit was. Probably a homeless person,” he said. “Or a druggie.”

  “In the middle of the day?” I asked. “So you’re saying the south shore isn’t a safe place to vacation? That drug addicts walk in and just attack people?”