Dying for a Deal

by Cindy Sample

  In less than ten minutes, I found a parking spot not too far from Louie’s place. The street appeared deserted except for a couple of disheveled guys who looked like they’d spent the night in the casino and were trying to figure out where to lose their money next.

  I grabbed my purse and keys and locked the car door. Neither Liz nor Adriana had attempted to call me in the hour-plus since I’d first conversed with Adriana and that concerned me. Perhaps they were ticked off with me. I had to admit I wasn’t too cordial during our brief conversation.

  Or maybe the two of them were buying out the store. As I recalled, Adriana loved to purchase jewelry, especially antique jewelry, and she had the financial wherewithal to do so. And with Liz’s hormones running amuck, the veteran shopper could be doing significant damage to her credit card balances. They could be merely enjoying a fun shopping spree without party pooper me interfering and ruining their day.

  But this party pooper also sleuthed for a living, and my intuition told me to prepare for anything. I returned to the car, unlocked the door, then reached into my glove compartment, stuffing my stun gun into one of the pockets of my practical beige twill cargo pants.

  Then I called Tom, who for a change answered his cell.

  “Everything okay?” he greeted me. Guess we were more of a “what’s the trouble now?” kind of couple instead of a “how ya doin’?” husband and wife.

  “Yeah, I think so. I’m in Reno. Ready to pop into Louie’s again.” I explained the call from Adriana and also my discovery that Kimberly owned the pawnshop along with Timeshare Help and numerous other ventures.

  “Do you think they’re in any danger?” he asked.

  “Honestly, the only danger Liz and Adriana are likely to encounter is a drop in their credit rating from buying out the store. Still…”

  “I could leave here in a few minutes,” Tom replied, “but that’s close to a three-hour drive.” Then I heard him snap his fingers. “I know. I’ll call Ali and see if she’s available to meet you. What do you think?”

  What did I think of me partnering with Tom’s former partner/former fake fiancé/possible former girlfriend?

  Before I could respond, Tom put me on hold while he dialed her number. I sat in the car for five stuffy minutes, fuming and wishing I hadn’t wasted the time calling him. What on earth was he doing while I waited and waited?

  I glanced out the windshield and squinted, wondering if the heat was causing me to see a mirage. Was that Kimberly walking into Louie’s? I slammed my finger on the end call button, shoved my phone into my purse and headed for the pawnshop.

  I zipped up the sidewalk, my purse banging against my side, the stun gun whacking my right knee with every other step. If I hadn’t been in such a hurry to catch up with Kimberly, I would have stopped to rearrange my hot pink protective device, but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to chat with her.

  I pushed open the glass-paned door and scanned the room for Adriana and Liz.

  Nothing. There was also no sign of Kimberly. Or Louie. Or the beautiful Cherie. Only one skinny young salesman wearing a short-sleeve shirt and belted slacks that were struggling to maintain themselves around his twenty-eight-inch waist.

  So annoying when you see a man with a smaller waist than your own.

  He pasted on a fake smile and greeted me as I approached the counter. “May I help you find something in particular?” he asked

  I glanced inside the glass-enclosed cases. The colorful display of diamond rings, antique bracelets and brooches, Rolex watches and pinky rings spoke volumes to me. Each item must have a story behind it, a sorrowful tale most likely, because why else would you part with such an item unless forced to?

  “Yes, you can help me,” I replied. “Two friends of mine were in the store earlier. They asked me to meet them here, but I don’t see them around.”

  “My shift started a half hour ago, and you’re my first customer. Maybe they went to another pawnshop. There’s quite a few in Reno.”

  “No, they were definitely headed here. One of them is a striking brunette and the other is blond and”—I mimed a pregnant woman—“about to pop. Not easy to miss.”

  He shrugged. “Sorry.”

  I blew out a breath and drummed my fingers on the glass top. I couldn’t believe I made the trip for nothing. Well, if nothing else, maybe I could chat with Kimberly for a bit. If she was still in the store.

  Before I looked for Kimberly, I decided to try calling Liz one more time. Her phone rang and rang. Loudly.

  Far too loudly. As if it were close to where I was standing.

  I shifted to the right toward the shrill sound of a ringing phone. It stopped ringing and I immediately redialed. Seconds later I heard the echo of the ringing phone coming from behind the glass counter. I stood on my tiptoes, leaned over the counter and spied a gray plastic wastebasket below. As the phone continued to ring, the salesman, who now stood on the opposite side of the counter, also glanced down. His face looked even more puzzled than mine.

  As Alice in Wonderland would say, this day was getting curiouser and curiouser.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  “Grab that phone,” I ordered him and he reached into the wastebasket and pulled it out.

  I snatched the oversized iPhone with the baby blue cover out of his hand and stared at it. How had it landed in the garbage? Liz was admittedly a little ditzier these days, but I still couldn’t imagine her agreeing to part with her phone under any circumstances.

  My stomach contracted as the impact of my discovery sank in. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

  “Do you know how this phone ended up in that wastebasket?” I asked in my most intimidating voice.

  “I have no idea. Like I said, I just came on the floor”—he looked at his watch—“a half hour ago. It could of gotten pushed into the basket somehow and your friend not noticed it. Sometimes customers get excited about our displays and don’t pay attention to their own stuff.”

  Yeah, right.

  I dialed Adriana’s number. No answer. At least it hadn’t landed in the garbage as well.

  I tapped my phone against the counter while I contemplated a course of action. The clerk’s explanation seemed feasible. I’d once left my phone at Safeway when I was in a hurry. Liz could have lost her cell and not realized it yet.

  “Is Kimberly here today?” I asked the clerk.

  His eyes widened. “Yeah, she’s the boss lady. Do you know her?”

  “Old friends,” I assured him. “Could you tell her Laurel McKay would like to see her.”

  “Sure, I’ll go get her.” He stepped from behind the counter, his long gangly legs striding toward the back of the store. He halted when a door opened up and two people emerged—Kimberly and a large man, who looked vaguely familiar.

  I sorted through my mental database of contacts and as they drew closer, I realized where I’d last seen the man with the linebacker-sized shoulders and platinum buzz cut.

  Jumping off the gondola the day Gino was killed.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  I did my best to present a poker face and not let the fear that assaulted every one of my frayed nerves show through my placid exterior. I’d spied on this guy twice—once when he’d dined with Louie and Gino, and again when he killed Gino. I sure hoped the Hulk-like villain didn’t recognize me.

  Kimberly’s face bore her standard “not you again” expression. The lug accompanying her narrowed his eyes at me but remained silent, standing a few steps behind Kimberly in a surprisingly deferential pose.

  “Now what?” Kimberly asked in a barely civil tone.

  “Um, Marty sent me here,” I said, promising to make it up to Marty the next time I saw him. The poor guy didn’t need to get in trouble with his boss on my account. “I have a few more questions about timeshare resales.”

  “Honestly.” She rolled her heavily mascaraed eyes. “Haven’t you heard of Google?”

  I bit back a smart retort and merely replied, “Yes,
but you are much more knowledgeable than Google when it comes to the timeshare industry.”

  She gave me a small smile, while I attempted to keep from gagging at my own obsequious compliment.

  “True,” she said, “but my staff and I are busy doing inventory, so we’ll have to chat another time. Ciao.” She fluttered her pink shellac talons at me before pivoting and heading to the back of the store once again. Big lug followed in her retreating footsteps, glancing once over his shoulder at me.

  I cringed when I caught a glimmer of recognition in his icy blue eyes. But then he shook his head and continued in Kimberly’s high-heeled wake.

  “You forgot to ask Kimberly about your friends,” the sales clerk reminded me.

  I didn’t forget. Not for one minute.

  “I’m sure they’re fine. Eventually Liz will notice her phone is missing,” I assured him. “By the way, Kimberly mentioned she was in the middle of doing inventory. Do they keep a lot more merchandise in back? I might be interested in seeing what else is for sale. Can you take me back there for a peek?”

  “Oh, I’m not allowed in the back.” He leaned closer and whispered, “That’s where the fine antiques and jewelry are kept. Only a small select group of clients are allowed in that area.”

  “You’ve never been in the back?” I asked. “Ever?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head so vigorously his glasses slid down his nose. He pushed them back up before explaining, “You gotta have a security code to get in there. I’m not high enough in the food chain for access.”

  “How do they acquire all of these high-end items?”

  “Oh, they got a team of guys that goes all over and finds stuff. Kind of like them Antiques Roadshow guys on TV.”

  Seriously?

  I glanced around the store, eyeballing the corners for any security cameras. Nothing jumped out at me, but knowing Kimberly, she’d hide any signs of surveillance activity from her customers. She probably stowed the camera in something unusual. Like the spooky owl clock in the corner. I could almost sense his beady eyes staring at me as I moved around the store.

  I tucked Liz’s phone inside my purse and said farewell to the young clerk. There wasn’t much more I could do inside the store right now.

  But that might not be the only option.

  After I left the pawnshop, I returned to my parked car to catch up on my voicemails and texts. There was only one phone message from Ali Reynolds. I have more important things to do than go traipsing to Reno to help you locate your pals.

  So rude.

  With no help from the detective, that left just two options: I could call Tom and wait three or more hours for him to drive to Reno or complete a little investigative foray of my own. Even though I’d ostensibly agreed with the clerk’s suggestion that Liz might have accidentally dropped her phone in the wastebasket, I considered it an unlikely scenario. And the clerk’s comments about the super-secret valuable merchandise in the back piqued my curiosity.

  I pulled out from my parking spot and drove a few blocks away. Out of sight of the pawnshop. Then I yanked my tote bag from the back seat. The bag currently contained four wigs, a cosmetic bag loaded with makeup essentials, a pair of clear glasses and a change of clothes. I covered my curls with the platinum pixie-cut wig and added the glasses, which I thought were a nice touch. Rather than change clothes in the car, I simply threw a long sleeve top over my current sleeveless blouse. Then I slipped off my wedge sandals and replaced them with a pair of navy Keds.

  I moved my pepper spray from my purse to the back pocket of my cargo pants. I wouldn’t win any fashion awards, but hopefully I’d disguised my identity well enough. I patted my pockets and decided I was ready.

  It was long past time to find my pals.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  My brief three-block excursion from my car to the rear of the pawnshop took close to ten minutes. Every time a vehicle passed by, I took cover by standing in doorways, behind parked cars and one time even crouched next to a mailbox. I undoubtedly looked more like a robber on the make than an undercover P.I.

  Although masquerading as a thief might have gotten me better access to the back room of Louie’s. After talking to the sales clerk I’d contemplated whether Louie’s establishment dealt in illicit goods. They certainly wouldn’t be the first pawnshop to do so. Too bad I’d already run into Kimberly today. She was far too smart for me to outsmart in my current disguise.

  As I sidled near their loading dock in the back of the brick building, my eyes scanned all around me—from left to right and front to back. A revolving head would have been useful right now.

  Or a partner. Even Gran. But, sadly, I was on my own.

  A metal door screeched open and I jumped behind a dumpster. The combination of rotting fruit and days-old fish brought an unpleasant reminder of my brief dumpster dive a few days earlier. I shifted slightly to the right and peeked at the two men standing outside the back entrance. One of them was unfamiliar while the other, Big Lug, was too familiar.

  They both lit cigarettes and walked away, in the opposite direction from where I currently hid from view. I calculated the distance from the dumpster to the doorway. No more than thirty feet. Could I race to the door and gain entry before they noticed me?

  Assuming my foray into the back of Louie’s was successful, what did I expect to achieve?

  Insight into the pawnshop’s operation? Discovery of my missing friends? Either or both reasons were sufficient for me to take a chance.

  I inched my way out, then jerked back behind the dumpster as one of the men turned around. My heartbeat ratcheted up to ninety mph. The thumping of my heart sounded louder than a tympani solo. Could the men hear its frenetic refrain from so far away?

  A sigh of relief escaped when the sound of both men laughing echoed back from a distance. This time when I snuck a look, they were disappearing around the block.

  Time for me to break from my hiding place.

  I scooted out from behind the dumpster and raced to the oversized metal door. I hadn’t seen the men lock it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t lock automatically. I yanked. It barely moved two inches.

  Whew. Someone needed to add bicep building to her to-do list. The door screeched as I struggled to push it open far enough for me to squeeze my curvy frame through the narrow opening. Once inside, it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the vast storeroom.

  Small, medium, large, and gigantic boxes lined one wall of the storeroom. A multitude of televisions, computers and a host of other electronics were stacked on pallets reaching almost to the ceiling. I crept past a couple of large covered crates. Then I stopped and went back as my internal radar kicked in. I cautiously lifted the top of one of the crates, then recoiled, stunned to discover the type of artillery I’d previously only seen on my television screen.

  Louie certainly didn’t exaggerate. His motto of “We have something for everyone” rang true. His clients could load their automatic weapons while watching an eighty-inch TV screen, comfortably seated in an antique nineteenth-century brocade chair.

  Ugh. Not a comforting visual.

  I peeked at my watch. The men would soon return from their cigarette break. I peered around the room trying to detect hidden cameras but nothing jumped out at me. It would be foolhardy not to have some type of surveillance system considering their valuable and unorthodox inventory.

  Which meant before long someone was bound to notice an intruder wandering around where she did not belong.

  I noticed several doors on the far wall from where I stood. As I drew closer I heard murmurings from the other side of the wall. Did Kimberly and/or Louie have their offices back here? It wasn’t the most elegant of surroundings, but the location was definitely out of the way. A discreet place to meet some of their less honest clientele.

  I placed my ear against the wall, praying neither Kimberly nor Louie would come bounding out of the office.

  The next words I heard were unmista
kable. “Bloody Hell. Now what do we do?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Liz! The other person’s response was muted, but I determined it was definitely another female. I listened for a few more seconds but couldn’t detect any deeper male voices. I softly tapped on the door.

  “Liz, Adriana. Are you in there?”

  “Laurel, is that you, luv?” Liz replied. “Have you brought the troops to rescue us?”

  “Sure.” No point discouraging them at this point. “Are you both okay?”

  “Of course we’re not okay,” screeched Adriana. “And Liz is standing in a puddle.”

  “Is there a leak in there?”

  “Only me,” replied Liz in a subdued voice. “I think my water broke.”

  Talk about timing. My friends didn’t need a detective to come to their rescue. They needed Wonder Woman.

  Or an obstetrician.

  I jiggled the door but, as anticipated, it didn’t open. “Stay calm,” I said. “I’m trying to find a way in.”

  Should I attempt to break the door down? Could I? The cops usually shot out locks when necessary, but I didn’t carry a gun and didn’t intend to. I patted my pockets. My stun gun and pepper spray were useless. Then I remembered a clever MacGyver episode where the star gained entry into a locked room using the filaments from a lightbulb.

  I looked up. The few lights in the high ceiling were far out of reach. I rushed around the room, thinking there must be a ladder nearby to service the high shelving, currently holding electronics, appliances, even a few lamps.

  Aha! I zeroed in on a Tiffany lamp sitting on top of a small mahogany table. I tilted the shade and let out a breath. Success at last. Two lightbulbs for me to have my way with.

  I gently crushed the bulbs with the heel of my shoe and retrieved the filaments. Ten minutes later I was cursing MacGyver and the team of screenwriters who’d allowed him to utilize the same technique but in far less time. Only sixty seconds, as I recalled. My heart skipped a beat as I heard two sounds.