“Are you ready to party?” Mindy exclaimed when I walked into L.A. Affairs.
I was determined to stay in don’t-be-a-crab-ass mode, even though it was Monday morning.
This wasn’t helping.
“You bet,” I forced myself to say, and kept walking.
Of course, trying to stay upbeat and positive would have been a heck of a lot easier if I didn’t have so many major problems on my mind, one of which was what I’d witnessed at Holt’s yesterday.
Gerri had stolen merchandise from the store. Granted, it was only two pairs of panties and the company was worth billions, but stealing was stealing. Should I rat her out to the store manager? Or should I let it go?
I wasn’t great at letting things go.
Something else troublesome had happened, too. When my shift ended I’d headed home, and while stopped at the traffic light on the corner I’d spotted Gerri’s car in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I only noticed it because it was parked close to the street near a couple of RVs.
Why was she shopping at Wal-Mart when she had an employee discount at Holt’s? Of course, Wal-Mart carried lots of things that Holt’s didn’t so maybe it was no big deal. But I couldn’t help wondering if Gerri was inside shoplifting bras to go with the panties she’d taken from Holt’s.
As I walked passed the cube farm and turned down the hallway toward my office, I decided it was too much to contemplate for so early on a Monday morning. I needed coffee to give my day a boost.
I slipped into my office to drop off my handbag and—oh my God. A man was sitting in front of my desk and—oh my God, it was Liam.
He shot to his feet.
Oh wow. He looked great. Today he had on a charcoal gray suit, and a shirt and tie in pale shades of blue. And those green eyes of his. Oh my God.
“What do you call two hundred lawyers at the bottom of the San Francisco Bay?” Liam asked. “A good start.”
He smiled.
I smiled—and I giggled. I couldn’t help it.
“I hope you don’t mind me dropping by,” Liam said.
I resisted the urge to keep smiling and giggling, and pulled myself together—not easy with no coffee yet today.
“I wanted to let you know the lawsuit is settled,” he said. “I thought you might be worried.”
“I wasn’t worried,” I said.
“Oh. Well, good. I wouldn’t want you to worry,” he said.
“That’s why you came here?” I asked. “That’s kind of lame.”
“I know,” he said, then grinned. “But it was the best excuse I could come up with on a Monday morning.”
“Monday’s are tough,” I agreed.
We looked at each other for a few minutes, then he walked past me to the door. Wow, he smelled great.
“I’ll find a better excuse for tomorrow,” he told me, then left.
I stood frozen in place for a few seconds, then leaned out my office door. Liam stood at the end of the hallway, waiting, looking my way.
What nerve. He thought I would come out of my office to catch a last glimpse of him.
I had—but that’s not the point.
Liam smiled—it was kind of a cocky smile, but I guess I deserved it—then waved and walked away.
Oh my God. Now I desperately needed a giant infusion of sugar, chocolate, and caffeine. I headed for the breakroom.
* * *
I’d barely calmed down from seeing Liam—the coffee and two chocolate doughnuts helped—when my cell phone rang. I saw Andrea’s name on the caller ID screen and answered right away.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, as I rose from my desk chair and walked to the window.
“Well, yes, it’s just that …” Andrea paused, then said, “Something been bothering me and I don’t know what to do about it.”
I waited.
I’m not good at waiting.
“Earlier last week I overheard Veronica and Patrick,” Andrea said. “They were arguing.”
Okay, that surprised me.
Andrea must have read my mind because she said, “I know, it was totally unlike them. And it could have been nothing, but it stuck in my head.”
“What were they arguing about?” I asked.
“I couldn’t hear what they were saying, just their raised voices,” Andrea said, then paused for a few seconds. “You don’t think it had anything to do with Veronica’s death, do you?”
Several possibilities shot through my head. Maybe Veronica had told Patrick she planned to return home with her relatives. Or maybe Patrick had confessed that he and Erika were getting back together. There was also the possibility that it had something to do with the big Thanksgiving Day announcement.
“I mean, no way would Patrick hurt her—kill her—and he wasn’t even there that day,” Andrea said. “Should I tell the police? I guess I should, but I don’t want to get Patrick in trouble.”
I didn’t see this as a big clue that would break the case wide open, more like something that might distract the homicide detectives and lead them down a dead end. But I understood how Andrea felt.
“Hold off for a few days,” I said. “See what the detectives turn up and if they don’t find a suspect, you should think about telling them.”
She sighed. “That’s a good idea. Thanks.”
“How are the house guests?” I asked.
“Still sniping at each other,” Andrea said, and sounded a little weary.
Family—even someone else’s—can do that to you.
“I’ll try to get out there this afternoon,” I said.
“Great,” she replied, and we ended the call.
I stood staring out the window for a few minutes thinking about what she’d said about the two supposed love birds fighting, and decided I needed to try and get some inside info on the investigation. I scrolled through my cell phone address book and called Detective Shuman, one of LAPD’s finest.
I’d known Shuman for a while and we’d had some ups and downs—more ups, luckily. He was a little older than me, handsome in a guy-next-door kind of way. There was something between us, kind of romantic, but not really—it was weird.
His voicemail picked up. I left what I thought was an oh-so-clever message about needing info on Veronica’s murder investigation that I hoped would inspire him to call me back with some intel. Next I called Jack to see if he’d learned anything new. His voicemail picked up also so I left a message with him.
I stood by the window staring at my phone. It didn’t ring. Neither hot guy called me back. That meant there was nothing else I could do at the moment—except actual work.
I hate it when that happens.
* * *
The office phone on my desk rang. I glanced at my wristwatch and saw that several hours had past.
Wow, time went by fast when you were actually working.
“Haley? Haley?” Mindy asked when I answered. “Hello? Can I speak to Haley?”
“I’m Haley,” I said.
“Oh, jiminy, so you are!” Mindy giggled. “You have a client. Oh, of course you have a client—you have lots of clients!”
She laughed at her own joke then wound down and said, “Anyway, you have a client here. Here in the office, that is.”
Liam flew into my head. Had he come back?
My heart started to beat a little faster.
“He’s in interview room number two,” Mindy said. “Two. Yes, it’s two. Or maybe one. No, it’s definitely two.”
I told her thanks—at least, I meant to—and hung up.
I yanked open my desk drawer, checked my hair and makeup in the mirror I kept in my handbag, and hurried out of my office.
Oh my God, was Liam back? He had a way of dropping by unannounced. He’d been here once today already. Why would he come back?
A dozen reasons zinged through my head—most of them involving how fabulous he hopefully thought I was—as I hurried down the hall to interview room two. I paused, composed myself as much as I could, and walked inside.
Oh my God.
Patrick Spencer-Taft sat in front of the desk.
Every ounce of yay-for-me drained away and I felt kind of ashamed for thinking of myself when Patrick—and so many other people—were going through really rough times.
He looked up when I walked in and got to his feet. He moved slowly, as if all the life had gone out of him.
Patrick was a good-looking guy. Tall, with dark wavy hair, a nice build, and an easy smile. Only right now he wasn’t smiling, and he looked as if nothing was easy for him.
He stepped forward and we hugged. I wanted to say how sorry I was about Veronica but he waved me off, as if another condolence was more than he could bear. I took the chair beside his, and we sat down.
I figured he was there to tell me the Thanksgiving feast he and Veronica had been planning was off. I’d expected as much. It would be incredibly sad to plan a memorial service for her but if that’s what Patrick wanted, I’d do it.
We sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.
“Thank you for helping out with the family,” he said. “I appreciate it, and I know … I know Veronica would have, too.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I just nodded.
“I want to go ahead with the Thanksgiving feast,” he said. “Veronica would have wanted it. She loved Pammy Candy and all the employees who worked there. We promised them a special day and she wouldn’t want to let them down.”
I still couldn’t think of anything to say.
“She felt the business brought happiness to everyone who worked there and to everyone who ate the candy,” Patrick said. “I’d like to do this as a tribute to her. A day of thanks for loved ones, good health, jobs, friends, and family.”
“Veronica told me several times how much she loved the company you two were building,” I said.
“She had plans—big plans,” Patrick said, and managed a weak smile. “She wanted to expand the factory and put in a gift shop, have tours, put in a café for the customers.”
“Sounds great,” I said.
Patrick nodded, then turned away and rubbed his eyes. He was quiet for a moment before turning to me again.
“I just don’t understand,” he said, and sounded truly lost. “How could this have happened? Who would want to hurt her?”
He didn’t, of course, expect me to come up with an answer but since he seemed to want to talk about it, I decided to see if I could get any useful info.
“Was anything unusual going on?” I asked.
Patrick shook his head. “Nothing different. The same kind of things that had been going on for weeks.”
“Did Veronica seem upset?”
“No,” Patrick insisted. “Well, yes, a little.”
“Did you two disagree about something? Argue, maybe?”
He uttered a bitter laugh. “The only thing we ever disagreed about was money.”
Okay, that surprised me. Patrick was a multi-millionaire. He hadn’t struck me as a tight-wad, but maybe I’d misjudged him. Before I could ask, he went on.
“She was always afraid she was spending too much money,” Patrick said, and smiled as if it were her most endearing quality. “I told her to stop worrying, we had plenty of money. But, well, she came from a family that struggled financially. Lately, she even went out of her way to give me long explanations about what she was doing with the money.”
“For the house renovations?” I asked.
“No, it was for her personal things. Clothes, spa treatments, her hair and nails. That sort of thing,” Patrick said. “It seemed to bother her more lately. She kept telling me how much she loved me, as if she were worried about our marriage. I didn’t care how much she spent. I just wanted her to be happy.”
I understood Veronica’s concern over money, especially given her background, but she and Patrick had been married for over a year. It was odd that she was suddenly distressed about money, and worried that Patrick would be upset with her over how much she was spending.
“Did this have anything to do with the Thanksgiving Day announcement?” I asked.
Patrick took a few seconds to process my question, then shook his head.
“I don’t know anything about an announcement,” he said. “Please go ahead with the feast, as planned. Veronica would have wanted it, and I want our employees to know the company will continue despite … despite everything.”
“Of course,” I said.
“A couple of friends have offered to handle the last minute details,” he said. “Andrea knows about them.”
“I’ll contact her right away,” I said.
Patrick sat there for a few more seconds as if trying to muster the energy to rise. Finally he got to his feet.
“Thank you, Haley, for everything.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll make sure everything is perfect for the feast.”
He managed another small smile, and left.
I wondered what announcement Veronica intended to make. Patrick didn’t know anything about it, giving me the icky feeling that she’d withheld it from him. I could only imagine why.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Veronica’s apparent guilt over the money she was spending on personal things. Was that, in fact, what she was spending money on?
Or was she skimming cash out of their joint account to buy a plane ticket back home?
Or maybe pay a blackmailer?