Читать книгу Purses and Poison - Dorothy Howell - Страница 10

For once in her life, Claudia didn’t look so good.

She lay facedown on the floor, her head near the toilet. There was a big gash over her left eye. Blood had soaked her hair and puddled under her cheek, along with some other really gross-looking stuff.

I stepped into the stall just far enough to bend down and get a closer look at her. Her pupils were fixed and dilated. I touched her neck—which creeped me out big time—but didn’t feel a pulse.

Claudia was dead.

I launched into take-charge mode.

“Everybody move back,” I said, waving my arms toward the door. “Don’t touch anything.”

Slowly, everyone left the restroom, some sniffling, some white faced, others craning their necks for another look. I didn’t recognize anybody. They must have all been on the inventory team.

“You.” I pointed to a tall guy. “Keep everybody together. And make sure nobody leaves the store.”

See how I’m meant to be in charge?

I pointed to a heavyset woman wearing jeans and a man’s T-shirt. I picked her because she looked like a lesbian, and you can always count on a lesbian in a crisis.

“Stand at the door,” I told her. “Don’t let anyone go inside.”

She took up her position without a word.

I grabbed the telephone at the customer service booth and called 9–1-1, then headed into the stockroom. The police would want to question everyone who was present, so I had to keep the catering crew and the employees from leaving. I had to tell Jeanette what had happened.

My steps slowed as I approached the loading dock.

Then I’d have to call Ty and tell him his ex-girlfriend was dead.

Oh, crap.

Claudia would have loved all the attention—if she hadn’t been dead, of course.

Two police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance were parked behind Holt’s, their lights flashing. Yellow crime scene tape was everywhere. Men and women in uniforms and plainclothes roamed in and out of the loading dock, talking into radios, on cell phones. Equipment was being hauled around.

The caterer’s staff, the inventory team, the Holt’s store employees, and the teenage models were corralled inside the white latticework fence under the tent-top. Some of the teen girls were crying. I stood next to Jeanette near the curtained stage, away from the loading dock but close enough to see what was happening. We both sort of stood there, not talking to each other.

I’d called Ty but he hadn’t picked up, so I left a message on his voice mail to call me right away. I hadn’t heard back from him.

Jeanette gasped—I thought for a moment she’d caught the reflection of her dress in a car windshield somewhere—but realized she’d seen the homicide detectives pull up.

Then I gasped, too. Oh my God. The same two detectives who’d been here the last time someone was murdered at Holt’s.

Detective Madison grasped the door frame and, after a couple of tries, heaved himself out of the passenger seat. He’d lost more hair since the last time I saw him—I’d like to think I was responsible for that, in some small way—and leaned back slightly to offset his basketball belly.

Beside him stood Detective Shuman. Young, kind of good looking, wearing a shirt and tie that didn’t quite go together.

Shuman and I had history.

Detective Madison spotted me. Fifty people in the crowd and it was me he homed in on. Great.

“I knew I’d find you in the middle of this,” he said, looking delighted that he might have a second chance to pin a murder on me.

“I thought you retired,” I said.

He gave me a smug look, then walked toward the loading dock. Shuman held back.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” I said to him.

He pressed his lips together—I know he wanted to smile—and said, “I’ll catch up with you later.”

About a minute later, a Porsche 911 Turbo pulled up and Ty jumped out. Oh my God, he was so handsome. Tall, athletic build, light brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes. He dressed in the most incredible suits, and—and when did he get a Porsche?

Never mind. No time for that now. I was going to have to tell him about Claudia. This would be a major moment in our relationship. How should I say it?

Why can’t they cover something like this in that stupid health class I’m taking?

Or maybe they did.

Anyway, I had to handle this just right.

I’d take him aside. Yes, of course, that would be perfect. Just the two of us, out of the glare of the public eye, so I could break the upsetting news in private. I’d take his hands, look deep into his eyes, and say that Claudia had passed—I’d leave out the big gash on her forehead, the blood, and the other gross-looking stuff on her face, and the part about her lying in the handicapped stall. He’d be stunned, of course. He’d grab me. Hold me. Cling tight to my warm, living body, thankful that I was here with him, sharing this difficult time, and—

Wait. He walked right past me.

“Ty?” I hurried to catch up as he strode toward the loading dock.

He glanced at me, but kept going.

“Ty, something happened. I need to tell you about—”

“Sarah told me.”

He kept going. I stopped and watched him disappear inside.

Sarah told him? Sarah?

I’d seen Jeanette on her cell phone earlier, so she probably notified somebody at the Holt’s corporate office. Sarah must have a network of spies in the building, feeding her information so she could be the first to tell Ty everything.

See why I hate her?

By the time the cops started interviewing the teenage models, their parents had shown up, brought to the store by frantic cell phone calls from the girls. There was a lot of hugging and crying.

From what I overhead of their statements to the cops, none of the models had seen anything unusual, which didn’t surprise me. Teenage girls—particularly teenage models—don’t usually look at anything but a mirror.

They all went home with their parents, since the RV Claudia had driven them to the store in couldn’t be moved, while the cops took statements from everyone else.

Ty came down the loading dock steps looking grim. I didn’t know if the detectives let him see Claudia’s body, but I hoped not.

I didn’t know how deeply involved he had been with Claudia. They’d dated, but I didn’t know for how long—swapping stories with your new boyfriend about former lovers wasn’t usually a good idea.

Ty headed toward Jeanette and me. I walked forward and intercepted him.

“I’m so sorry about Claudia,” I said.

He looked at me and nodded.

“Has somebody notified her family?” I asked.

“They spoke with her mother.”

I flashed on my mom answering the door at her house, seeing two policemen waiting, knowing. I didn’t like that mental picture. I shook it off.

I didn’t know how things had been left between Ty and Claudia’s family after their breakup, but I couldn’t imagine that would be an issue at a time like this.

“Do you think we should go see her mom?” I asked. “We could stop by the house and—”

“I already phoned her.”

Okay, that surprised me.

“Well, then maybe we should—”

I didn’t get to finish the sentence. Ty walked away. Again. He headed across the parking lot to where a Beemer had just pulled up. Sarah Covington got out.

She looked fabulous, of course, in a Donna Karan business suit.

I have on black pants and a white sweater.

“Give me your keys.”

Bella appeared next to me, holding out her hand. Beside her stood Sandy with a blender tucked under her arm.

I glanced back at Sarah. She was talking and Ty had leaned down a little to hear her better.

“You won something in the prize raffle,” Bella said. “I’ll put it in your car.”

My spirits lifted a little. Wow, I’d won a prize? Something good had happened today?

I pulled my keys from my pants pocket. “Is it cool?” I asked.

“Did you forget where you’re working, all of a sudden?” Bella asked. “This is Holt’s.”

I gasped. “Oh my God, it’s not clothes, is it?”

Bella’s lips curled distastefully. “Let’s just say that skank ho Rita was jealous that she didn’t win it herself.”

Could today get any worse?

Bella took my keys and left.

“So, where were you?” Sandy asked. “We saved you a seat.”

I looked at Sarah again. She was still talking. Ty was still listening.

“I got sort of…tied up,” I said. No point going into the whole sick-server story.

“I won a blender,” she said, holding up the box.

Now she had my attention. “Bring it to my place. I could use a margarita.”

“My boyfriend already said I have to give it to him,” Sandy said. “He’s on this special diet that will increase his creativity and enhance his artistic talents.”

“He does tattoos.”

“It’s art, Haley,” she said.

I stole another look at Sarah. Jeez, doesn’t that bitch ever shut up?

“Couldn’t we break it in with at least one batch of margaritas?” I asked, sounding a little desperate.

“I have to take it to him tonight. Right after I pick up his roommate’s mother from the airport,” Sandy said, then gazed behind me. “Wow, who are all of those people?”

I turned and saw that two Mercedeses had pulled up alongside Sarah’s BMW and Ty’s Porsche. Two men in Armani suits got out.

I didn’t know them, but I knew their type.

“Lawyers,” I said to Sandy. I didn’t add that they were from the Pike Warner law firm because I didn’t want to have to explain how I knew that choice bit of info.

The lawyers, Sarah, and Ty formed up in a tight huddle, which kind of irked me. I wanted to be in the huddle, too. Why did I have to wait for a college degree to get in the huddle?

But I already knew what they were talking about. Liability and damage control.

You’d think they would have a plan already in place, after what had happened here last fall.

“Hi, Haley,” somebody said.

Troy walked up. He was just out of high school, worked part-time in the men’s department, and seemed to be doofing his way through life.

“Wow…” he said, sounding awestruck. “You’re the coolest.”

Apparently, word had gotten around how I’d taken charge of everything in the women’s restroom. And it was pretty cool.

Troy’s eyes were wide and his mouth hung open a little. “I never figured you’d do…that.”

Ty, Sarah, and the two lawyers were on the move now, heading toward Jeanette. I saw my chance, so I hurried over.

I wedged myself into the new huddle, anxious to take my rightful place at my sort-of boyfriend’s side, but Sarah and Jeanette beat me to it. Then I realized that Troy was standing next to me. What was he doing here?

Introductions were made, including Troy—he didn’t say anything, just stared at me, which was sort of embarrassing—and I found out the attorneys from the Pike Warner law firm were Peter McKenzie and Gabe Richards. They were mid-thirties, probably, on their way up the corporate ladder. I didn’t know either of them and, hopefully, they didn’t recognize me.

“Don’t I know you?” McKenzie asked.

Crap. The last thing I wanted to do was go into everything that had happened at Pike Warner last fall.

“We’ve never met,” I said, which was true, but it was possible he’d seen my name on documents that had circulated through the firm.

“Here’s what we’re up against,” Ty said, glancing at his wristwatch. “The store is scheduled to open in less than two hours. If that doesn’t happen—”

“It will be a media disaster,” Sarah declared.

Peter McKenzie glanced down at me and frowned. I knew he was trying to remember where he knew me from. Why wasn’t he paying attention to the huddle?

“We’ll have helicopters circling, camera crews crawling all over the place,” Sarah said. “We do not want to headline the eleven p.m. news. We have to open, as scheduled.”

Troy gulped hard right next to my ear. Why wouldn’t he go away?

“What about the inventory team?” Jeanette asked. “Their work is only half finished. They’re supposed to be out of here by six, and at the San Diego store tomorrow. If that doesn’t happen, I’ll have to reschedule them. That means closing the store another entire day, changing all of our advertising—and you know what that will do to profits, especially this time of year.”

Think, think. I had to think of something. This was a disaster, all right, a marketing and financial catastrophe. Reputation and money were on the line.

I was just as capable as anyone in the huddle—except maybe Troy, who kept breathing on me—of thinking up a solution, but I had to come up with it before Sarah.

Ty nodded toward the store. “I talked to the detectives. They can wrap up everything in a half hour.”

Everybody breathed a sigh of relief. Ty had the solution all along.

He’s so hot.

“That gives the inventory team ninety minutes to finish their work,” Ty said.

“Can they do that?” Jeanette asked.

“They’ll have to,” Ty said.

He’s so forceful, sometimes. It’s way hot.

“So, as long as the police finish up their work in the next few minutes—” Jeanette began.

“We’ll be fine,” Ty said.

Crisis averted. Reputation saved. Financial problem resolved.

I love being in the huddle.

Detective Madison waddled down the loading dock stairs, Shuman behind him.

“We’re shutting you down for the night,” Madison announced.

“What?” Sarah exclaimed.

Tension in the huddle spun up again, higher this time. Ty stepped out in front, confronting the two detectives. Troy circled around to my other side, fixated on my left cheek.

“We’ve got another possible murder victim,” Madison said.

Jeanette gasped. Gabe Richards and Sarah Covington put their heads together and started whispering.

“What the hell is a possible murder victim?” Ty demanded.

“We’ve got to take this place apart, piece by piece,” Madison said.

Sarah whipped out her cell phone and frantically pushed buttons. Richards went for his BlackBerry. McKenzie pointed at me with a big goofy grin on his face and said, “Mount Rushmore.” Troy snorted.

What a couple of idiots. They should be voted out of the huddle.

Never mind about that now. I had to do something to help Ty. His family had shepherded the Holt’s Department Store through many a crisis, dating back to the 1800s. He had five generations riding on his shoulders. I knew I could do something to help.

“We’ve got a missing person,” Detective Madison said. “Possibly a second murder victim, somewhere in the store.”

Shuman looked at his notepad. “The caterer can’t account for one of the servers.”

What?

“None of the other servers recalls seeing her since shortly after they arrived,” Shuman said. “But they report there was a server on duty that nobody recognized. And we found a disguise hidden upstairs in the stockroom.”

A disguise? Upstairs in the stockroom?

“Looks like whoever this mystery person is might have murdered the server, put on her uniform and a disguise, then murdered Claudia Gray,” Madison said.

Oh my God. Oh my God.

That’s me. I’m the one who—

Oh, crap.