Fanny Packs and Foul Play (A Haley Randolph Mystery) (14 page)

“Will you be there?” I asked.

He nodded. “I’ll have a team in place.”

There had been no threats to the Spencer-Taft
family or any indication that something terrible might happen, but
it was Jack’s job to be more safe than sorry.

“I’ll keep digging,” I said.

Jack nodded, then walked with me to my car. I
clicked the lock and he opened the door for me. I squeezed past
him. Wow, he smelled great—even after being up all night. He
stepped back. I gave him a quick wave as I drove away.

Okay, now I was really late. Still, I had to
take care of the errands that I’d planned to handle this
morning.

I drove to Holt’s—it was only a few minutes
from my apartment—and pulled into the parking lot at the rear of
the building. The store wasn’t open yet, but things were hopping. A
big-rig was backed into the loading dock and the truck team was
hustling to empty it. A garbage truck lumbered toward the Dumpster.
About a dozen cars were parked nearby and employees were heading
inside.

I slid into a spot, then hurried up the steps
beside the loading dock and into the stockroom.

A weird little voice in my head had been
bugging me since I talked with Gerri. I’d promised her I wouldn’t
rat her out to Jeanette, the store manager, about what she’d done,
but I couldn’t just let it go.

I hurried through the stockroom, pushed open
the swinging doors into the store, and went to Jeanette’s
office.

* * *

As I got out of the elevator and headed down
the hallway toward L.A. Affairs, my cell phone rang. I dug it out
of my handbag and saw that Mom was calling.

I was hardly in the mood to deal with her so
early in the morning—I hadn’t even had coffee yet and that whole
thing with Gerri was still bouncing around my head—but I figured it
was better to get it over with now and be clear for the rest of the
day.

“Good news,” Mom said, when I answered. “I’ve
found the most charming young man for your sister.”

I wondered if it was the Cuban guy she’d
mentioned earlier.

“This has been quite the search,” Mom said.
“I know they’re going to hit it off splendidly.”

I wasn’t convinced either of the parties
involved would agree, but I didn’t bother to say so.

“Sounds good, Mom,” I said.

Really, what else could I say?

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mom said and ended
the call.

I paused outside the entrance to L.A. Affairs
to drop my phone into my handbag, and it rang again. Mom was
calling back already? But when I checked the ID screen I saw
Andrea’s name.

“You need to get out here,” she said, when I
answered.

Oh my God, she sounded like she was in total
panic mode.

“Brandie is missing,” she said. “I can’t find
her anywhere.”

Okay, now I was in total panic mode.

“I’ve looked everywhere I can think to look,”
Andrea told me. “I’ve called her cell phone over and over. I texted
her. She hasn’t responded to anything.”

“Did you call the private security team?” I
asked, already heading toward the elevator.

“They’re searching the grounds,” Andrea said.
“You … you don’t think she was kidnapped, do you?”

If Veronica was actually being blackmailed,
it was possible, now that she was gone, the blackmailer had ramped
up to kidnapping. Jack had said the family might be targeted in
some way.

“I mean, where would she go? How would she
get anywhere?” Andrea said. “I called the gate guard. No taxis came
through this morning. The limo service hasn’t been here.”

“Her mom and aunts must be going crazy,” I
said.

“They’re still sleeping,” Andrea said.
“Should I wake them? I mean, I’m not sure. I don’t want to alarm
them, if it’s nothing.”

“The security team will know what to do. Just
sit tight. I’m on my way,” I said, and ended the call.

I punched the elevator call button, trying to
still my runaway thoughts. Really scary images bloomed in my mind.
I forced them out and concentrated on the situation.

Maybe Brandie had just gone for a walk. Maybe
she’d found a secluded spot and hunkered down to text her friends
back home. Maybe she had her ear buds in and hadn’t heard Andrea
calling for her. Maybe she was being a typical teenager and wasn’t
in the mood to answer her phone.

All those things were possible, but not
likely.

The elevator doors opened and I rushed
inside.

Maybe she’d really been kidnapped.

What else could it be? Andrea had a point.
Brandie had no way of getting anywhere, and even if she’d found a
way, there were few places open at this time of day. So what other
alternative was there?

Then it hit me.

I knew exactly where Brandie was and how
she’d gotten there.

* * *

“How’d you find me?” Brandie asked.

I held up my cell phone. “The Starbucks app.
I get a message every time it’s used.”

I’d checked it as soon as I’d stepped into
the elevator and seen exactly where Brandie was, then called Jack
and told him where I was headed. When I’d driven into the shopping
center and spotted Brandie seated at an umbrella table outside
Starbucks sipping a frappuccino, I’d texted Andrea and Jack with
the news.

I nodded toward Veronica’s white BMW parked
nearby.

“Told you I could drive,” Brandie said.

The trip from the house to Starbucks was
through quiet residential streets, so it wasn’t like she was
navigating the freeway during the morning commute. That didn’t make
it right—but it wasn’t my place to say so. Her mom could handle
that conversation.

“I need coffee,” I said.

The line was short so I got my drink quickly,
loaded it up with sugar and creamer, and joined Brandie at the
table outside.

She had a little
sullen-belligerent-I-don’t-care-what-anybody-thinks teenage
attitude going so I sipped my drink and let a few minutes pass
before I said anything.

“Everybody thought you’d been kidnapped,” I
told her.

She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind and
said, “Are you kidding me?”

“After what happened to Veronica,” I said,
“the security team is thinking worst-case-scenario.”

She pouted for a moment, then gasped. “Oh my
God, does my mom know about this? She always sleeps late. I figured
I’d be back before she woke up.”

“She doesn’t know yet,” I said.

Brandie slumped in her chair. “This vacation
is so lame. Veronica was always really cool, and now she’s not here
anymore. Mom and my aunts are always fighting. That tour guide
keeps sending us to stupid places.”

I couldn’t disagree. This hadn’t exactly been
a dream vacation.

“Everybody said I could come out here for
college, but Patrick won’t want me here now,” Brandie said. “He
won’t pay for my classes. I know he won’t. He wouldn’t even give my
uncle a decent job. He made him a gardener. I’m not going to clean
the house or something, just to go to college here.”

A few seconds passed—I mean, jeez, I was
drinking my coffee—until I realized what she’d said.

“Your uncle?” I asked. “What uncle?”

“Darrell,” she said. “He’s, you know, that
relative nobody wants to talk about, sort of like Veronica’s
mother. I didn’t even know he’d come out here.”

“Did he contact you?” I asked.

Brandie sipped her frappie and shook her
head. “I saw him. At the house. The day we arrived.”

I remembered that while her mom and aunts
were piling out of the limo and gawking at the house, Brandie had
been looking at the workmen.

“I guess he was kind of embarrassed about us
seeing him working as a gardener,” Brandie said, “because as soon
as he saw me, he took off.”

Oh my God, a relative of Veronica’s had been
at the house the day she was murdered? Working with the gardeners?
And he’d taken off when Brandie recognized him?

“I’ll be right back,” I said.

I hopped out of my chair and paced a few feet
away as I called Jack on my cell phone. He answered right away.

“I think I found Veronica’s blackmailer,” I
told him.

“That really
hot guy is here looking for you,” Bella said.

I was crouched down in front of the wall of
jeans in the juniors department, checking my cell phone. It was the
perfect spot to avoid being seen by one of the store’s managers—and
customers, of course—but, luckily, Bella knew where to find me.

I sprang to my feet and shoved my cell phone
into my pocket. I didn’t know which hot guy Bella was referring
to—not that there’re a lot of them dropping in on me at Holt’s—but
I hoped it was Jack or Shuman.

“Where?” I asked, craning my neck to see
around the customers swarming through the aisles.

Honestly, I didn’t know why so many people
were in the store tonight. The Stuff-It sale, apparently, was too
much of an allure to keep folks at home preparing for Thanksgiving
tomorrow.

I’d spent most of the day getting my clients’
holiday parties finished. After Jack had showed up at Starbucks and
we’d made a plan, I’d called Detective Shuman, who’d contacted the
homicide detectives investigating Veronica’s murder. Between
confirming florists and caterers, handling a few last minute
changes, and finding a bakery who’d take a twelve dozen cupcakes
rush order, I’d learned that Darrell had been picked up and was
being questioned by the police.

I spotted Jack standing near the customer
service booth and my heart lurched—for a couple of reasons.

“Ask him if he has a brother,” Bella called
as I walked away.

Jack looked tired and a bit grim—and still
really hot, of course—as I walked past him. He followed me through
the swinging doors into the stockroom.

“Darrell admitted to taking money from
Veronica,” Jack said. “Claims he wasn’t blackmailing her. He just
wanted what was due him.”

Money from Pammy Candy, no doubt.

“I think he’s lying,” Jack said. “So do the
cops.”

I figured Jack had a contact in the police
department who’d been sending him info. Jack had contacts
everywhere.

“Why else would Darrell have gotten a job
with the landscapers so he could get near her?” I asked. “What
about Veronica’s death? Has he admitted to killing her?”

Jack shook his head. “He says he had nothing
to do with it.”

“So it’s just a coincidence that Darrell was
at the house the morning she was murdered?” I asked. “I don’t
believe it.”

“Nobody believes it,” Jack agreed. “The cops
will keep up the pressure. He’ll confess.”

I relaxed knowing Darrell was in custody and
the case would be wrapped up soon. Jack seemed relieved, too. I
could only imagine how Patrick and the rest of the family felt.

“Are you keeping the security team in place
at the house for the feast tomorrow?” I asked.

“They’ll be security present, but I’ll cut
back,” Jack said, “so my team can spend the day with their
families.”

“What about you?” I asked.

He hesitated a moment, then said, “I’ll be on
scene.”

Jack had never been forthcoming about his
family. In fact, last Thanksgiving we’d ended up working a case
together. I decided not to pry.

“I’ll be there early to make sure everything
is prepped and ready to go when the guests arrive,” I said.

He gave me a little grin—Jack has a killer
grin—then left.

Honestly, I felt a million times better
knowing Darrell was in custody. Even though I’d been totally wrong
about suspecting Julia and Erika of Veronica’s murder, I was okay
with it. All that mattered was that Darrell would confess, the case
would be closed, everybody could enjoy the feast tomorrow, and I
didn’t have to worry about something bad happening—until I got to
Mom’s house, of course.

As I walked out of the stockroom I spotted
Gerri straightening racks of pants in the misses department. She
saw me in the same instant.

“Haley, you’re not going to believe what
happened,” she said, and hurried over. “The store manager called me
into her office as soon as I got here this afternoon.”

Oh, crap.

I wasn’t expecting to be confronted by
Gerri.

“She told me there’s a Holt’s scholarship for
nursing students,” Gerri said, and a big smile bloomed on her face.
“She gave me almost three thousand dollars.”

I just smiled.

“Three thousand dollars. That’s so much
money,” Gerri said. “Now I can get a place to live. And she told me
I can work more hours—all I want. I can even stay on after
Christmas. Isn’t that awesome?”

“Great news,” I said.

Gerri gasped. “Oh, and the best part is that
she gave me the day off tomorrow—with pay. Now I can go home for
Thanksgiving.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said, because, really,
it was.

Her eyes got big and she heaved a huge
sigh.

“Three thousand dollars—that’s a ton of
money,” she said. “Do you know what you can do with three thousand
dollars?”

I knew you could buy a Louis Vuitton tote bag
with it.

Or not.

* * *

“Oh, Haley, honey, I could just cry,” Melanie
said.

Usually, I’m not good with a crier—but I
thought I could handle it this time.

Honestly, I didn’t blame her.

We were on the west lawn of the Spencer-Taft
home and I was giving her a preview of the festivities that would
begin in a few hours when the Pammy Candy employees arrived for the
feast. I’d been here all morning making sure everything would be in
place.

It was a typical Southern California
day—sunny, mild, and gorgeous. We might not have forests of trees
boasting fall-colored leaves, but we made up for it with our
weather.

The florist and her staff were turning the
grounds into a harvest showplace with bales of hay, corn stalks,
pumpkins and gourds, and mum plants. Servers were setting the
tables in the dining area with brown linens, accented with amber,
garnet, and hunter green floral arrangements. Two workmen were
fixing a minor problem with the lighting.