If this were a movie, Annabelle and I would play it ultra-cool until we realized the cop was onto us. Then, we'd beat him up, tie him to a radiator, and hurry off into the sunset. The final scene would be of us drinking fruity cocktails, complete with an umbrella, in a little hut located on a white sand beach.
Instead, a hot flash hit me, Annabelle paled so badly she looked as if she may pass out, and I dropped the bag onto the floor behind the counter and fought a curse as it landed on my foot. I coughed, hoping it covered up the sound of the thump when it hit me.
Jordan's smiled faded as he approached. “Are you two okay?”
Definitely George Clooney vibes. Funny how that happened when I wasn't mad at him.
Annabelle and I nodded as I continued to cough. “We're a little under the weather. I think we both have a bug.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” he said, furrowing his brow. “Is there anything I can do?”
Annabelle stood rigidly next to me, her eyes wide as she stared at the deputy. I leaned over and coughed again, hitting her in the ribs with my elbow.
“I-I think the best thing you can do is stay away,” she blurted. “Sam's really feeling awful. I think she gave it to me.” She then began hacking as well, her fear overwriting any acting skills she may have had.
“I brought each of you two a coffee,” he said, taking one of the cups, then setting down the tray on the counter and stepping away.
“That's really nice of you,” I said, standing to my full height. “I think you better leave, though. It's germ heaven in here. We wouldn't want you to catch the bug.”
“You do look a little flushed, Sam. Are you sure there isn't anything I can do? Run to the store and grab some medicine?”
“We have all the medicine we need right here,” Annabelle said. “We do run an herbal apothecary. But to help us out, you can, like, leave.”
Okay, not subtle in the least bit, and based on Jordan's surprised expression, he hadn't been expecting such rude behavior.
As he narrowed his gaze, I said, “I think what Annabelle means is that we don't want to see you sick, so it's best if you go.” I glanced over at her and she nodded.
“Okay. I guess our hike this weekend is canceled?” he asked.
I'd totally forgotten about our plans and relief swept through me as I realized this sham illness was going to get me out of it. After saying yes on a whim, I'd been regretting I'd accepted the invitation. “I think it's best. Who knows when this bug is going to clear up?”
I hacked again for good measure. If he didn't leave soon, I may have to make myself vomit.
“Let me know if you two need anything,” he said, finally heading for the door.
“Thanks again for the coffee!” Annabelle called.
We remained frozen in place until the door shut and he was out of sight. Then, I turned to Annabelle. “What in the world have you done?”
“I got Gina what's rightfully hers.”
Cursing under my breath, I hurried to the front of the store and locked the door. Then I returned to the counter, grabbed the bag, and headed for the back room. “Come with me,” I said, taking Annabelle's hand.
After placing the bag on the counter out of eyesight from anyone passing by outside, I shook my head. “What did you do?” I asked again.
She opened it and removed some boxes of the horse tranquilizer, Xylazine. And stacks and stacks of money. All different denominations ranging from brand new to used so badly, they should be retired.
“Where did you get this?” I asked.
“Ralph's house. Kathy wasn't lying. He's got so much money buried in the walls, it's, like, crazy.”
“You broke into his house?” I asked, barely able to believe what I was hearing. “With a sledgehammer to knock down walls?”
She shook her head. “I had a small saw I use to cut tree branches. I didn't need it, though.”
I stared at the money lying on the counter and the remaining bills in the bowling ball bag. That Annabelle had stolen. “Explain to me exactly what you did. Step by step.”
“Well, yesterday you told me about the money in the walls. I went over there last night, around midnight, and parked a few blocks away. I walked to the house and—”
“Did you have your neon pink parka on?” I interrupted. Please say no.
“Of course not! I wore all black, silly goose. What do you think I am? Like, stupid or something?”
Sometimes, the answer was a resounding yes. Like now.
“Anyway, the door was unlocked,” she continued. “I walked right in and turned on the flashlight in my phone. The place is a mess. Lots of holes in the walls.”
Kathy had mentioned she had been in the home, so I had to assume she was the one who’d carved up the sheetrock. “So you just... took stuff?”
She nodded. “I shined my light in one hole, saw the horse tranquilizer and the money, and I grabbed that. Then, I went to a couple other openings and, like, found more money. The only thing was I forgot to bring a bag.” She snickered and rolled her eyes. “Imagine going to rob someone and not bring something to carry out my goodies. I don't, like, excel at criminal behavior, do I?”
“Where did you get the bag?” I asked, a sick feeling twisting my gut.
“From a room. It was tucked away in a bedroom closet. I just removed the bowling ball and used the bag.”
Why in the world did she think this was a good idea?
“So, then you just stuffed the bag with your findings,” I muttered.
“Yep! Don't you see? We can give the money to Gina’s kid! He'll be fine until you, like, find the killer and she gets out of jail!”
I stared at the cash piled on the counter, bile rising in my throat. “Did anyone see you?” I asked.
“It was the middle of the night! No one saw me.”
I imagined some guy across the street, getting up in the early morning hours for a glass of water and observing Annabelle walking out the front door of a dead man's house. Maybe snap a picture of her to turn in to the police today. And what about Kathy? As the owner of the house, surely she'd report the theft.
“Kathy owns that house,” I said. “Technically, she was still married to Ralph since the divorce papers hadn't been signed. She'll call the police.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes again. “What's she going to do? Fill out a report claiming that someone stole the drug money, not to mention the drugs themselves, her stupid husband kept in the walls? That there were actual drugs taken? Then what? Is Sheriff Mallory going to look for the person who stole them?” She snorted and shook her head. “No way. She's going to, like, tell Kathy tough luck. They have more important things to do than open an investigation into drug money.”
Okay, maybe she had a point. I could see Jordan laughing in Kathy's face if he was approached with such a complaint. He'd be thrilled someone had taken the drugs off the street for him.
“Are you sure no one noticed you?” I asked.
“Am I one hundred percent? No. But I'm pretty darn sure. You need to relax, Sam. Cassie would never be fretting over something like this. She'd be asking to go back again tonight!”
Probably. But this wasn't a television show, and the ramifications of being caught in a dead man's house were severe, regardless of whether it was drug money or not. If she hadn't been seen and no one knew she'd been there, maybe Annabelle would be safe. I needed her at the store, not serving time with Gina. Selfish, I know. But Hollywood taught me well.
Slowly, I began to feel a little bit better. “Okay,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “How are we going to get this money to Jacob? What's the best way to do that where he can use the money, but not blow it on a bunch of stupid stuff that would draw attention to him?”
Annabelle stared at me, absolutely no help.
“I think small deposits to Gina’s checking account is going to work out best,” I mused. “We can just make them, and no one needs to know where the money came from. If it draws attention, we can just say Sage Advice is helping a member of the community.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” Annabelle said. “Where are we going to keep the bag?”
I wanted the red leather bowling bag far away from my store. Taking it out to the forest and burying it sounded like a fantastic idea.
But where would I hide all this money? Too bad she didn't have the option to steal nice, crisp stacks of hundreds.
“Have you counted all this?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Grab and run. I stuffed the bag until it was full then got the heck out of there.”
I thought back to As The Years Turn. In one plotline, Cassie had hidden a gun in the cooling vent of her mansion. In another, she'd killed someone with a knife, then hidden her bloody clothes and the weapon in a secret compartment behind her fireplace. I didn't have a fireplace, nor did I have any secret compartments that I was aware of. But I did have a cooling vent and Bonnie's apartment, sitting empty.
“Do you have any appointments this morning?” I asked.
“None.”
I hurried to the cash register, pulled out a piece of paper, and scribbled a note. Opening late today. Please come back at noon. After finding some tape, I placed it on the front door and returned to Annabelle.
“Let's load all this back into the bag,” I said, grabbing a fistful of cash. “We'll go upstairs, count the money, and figure out where to hide it.”
Once in my apartment, we sat on the living room floor and dumped the bag.
“How do you want to divide it?” she asked.
“I guess ones, fives, tens, etcetera.”
As we worked to separate the bills out by denomination, I considered where they may have been. No doubt drugs could be found on a lot of them. Possibly a few had been in some G-strings? Ugh. I didn't want to think about it.
Once every dollar was in the correct pile, we went through the task of counting them. An hour later, we stared at ten thousand dollars, if our math was correct. But that was always up for debate.
“Holy cow,” Annabelle whispered. “I didn't think I grabbed that much. I feel like I'm in a rapper video or something.”
And that led me to wonder how much Ralph had hidden in the walls. If he'd been selling drugs and getting paid under the table for a number of years, the final amount could be staggering.
“Okay, let's make some piles, wrap them in plastic, then hide them.”
“Bricks,” Annabelle said. “They're called bricks.”
Once we had our “bricks” built, I took a few of them next door to Bonnie's apartment. I tried to ignore the fact that the space still smelled like her, or the ache of loss that clenched my chest every time I entered.
“She'd be glad we were hiding the money in here,” Annabelle said, following me with more stacks. “She would have liked that we'd taken dirty money and done something good with it.”
She might be right about that. Bonnie had a hard definition of right and wrong, as well as a mean streak. To her, all this probably would've been justified.
We hid some in the vents, but not much because we didn't want to fully block them. We taped a couple bricks to the underside of the sink and pipes. If it came down to serious measures and the police somehow connected us to the crime, they'd be able to do a search of the whole building, including Bonnie's apartment. However, as I locked up the door and met Annabelle's stare, I somehow felt safer with the money hidden there.
“I'll make the first deposit to Gina's account tomorrow,” I said, sighing.
“Don't worry,” Annabelle said. “Everything will be fine!”
For some reason, I didn't quite believe her.