It was a Fendi day. Definitely a Fendi day.
I dashed around my bedroom pulling together the accessories for my navy blue business suit, gathering the things I needed for today and dropping them into my Fendi handbag. I loved the bag and I hadn’t carried it in a while. Still, it didn’t make up for the I-know-it’s-out-there-somewhere handbag of my dreams that I was destined to find.
With a final check of my hair and makeup, I left my apartment and went downstairs to my car. I was actually on time this morning—not bad for hump day—and considered swinging through the Starbucks drive-thru—I mean, really, it’s not a big deal to be a few minutes late for work—when I spotted a black Land Rover parked next to my Honda.
No way would I be on time now—and I’d definitely need a Starbucks.
Jack got out of the Land Rover as I walked over. He was dressed in jeans, CAT boots, and a black T-shirt. He had a little beard going. I figured he’d been up all night, working.
Jeez, how come I never looked that hot after an all-nighter?
“What have you found out?” Jack asked.
It wasn’t like him to be quite this intense, so I figured he was still under serious pressure to find out who’d murdered Veronica.
“Two suspects,” I said, and told him my suspicions about Julia and Erika, then had to admit that I’d come up with only kind-of-sort-of motives and no evidence.
“I been running your blackmailer theory to ground,” Jack said. “Bank records indicate Veronica had taken more money out of their account than usual, but nothing significant. Small amounts every few days for the last several weeks.”
“She could have been spending it on herself, or on the new house,” I said.
“Or by withdrawing small amounts frequently, she might have figured she wouldn’t arouse suspicion,” Jack said.
The blackmail theory made more sense than my suspicion of Julia and Erika—especially in view of the fact that Patrick had told me that he and Veronica had had several conversations about how much money she was spending lately.
“That would mean she probably met with the blackmailer often,” Jack said.
A vision popped into my head that made me shiver. I pushed it out.
“But if she was cooperating, why would he—or she—kill her?” I asked.
“Maybe she got tired of being the goose that had to keep laying the golden eggs,” Jack said, “and threatened to go to the police.”
“Do you think whoever it was came to the house, confronted her, then killed her to keep her quiet?” I asked.
“Security in that neighborhood amounts to getting past the gate guard. It wouldn’t be a problem for someone determined to gain access,” Jack said. “There was a lot of commotion at the house. Workers coming and going. Lots of different faces. One more in the crowd wouldn’t draw attention.”
We were quiet for a moment, then Jack said, “I want to get this case wrapped up before the Thanksgiving feast tomorrow. The house will be full of the candy company employees, plus the event support staff.”
“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.