The next day Michael hurried across the street with Maguire close behind. They headed toward the constabulary. It was already ten o'clock and he knew Janis would be waiting impatiently. She'd texted him:
As his foot hit the boardwalk, he heard a scream. Stopping in his tracks, he looked toward The Fort and shook his head in disbelief. A woman with a black coat hovered threateningly over another woman wearing red.
The black-coated woman squeezed her hands around the neck of the other, whose back had been thrust against the railing. Another scream made him shudder as he watched her arms flailing in the air as she tried to catch her balance.
"You're going to pay for this!" the assailant screamed.
Worried that the woman would fall over the rail from the second story, Michael sprinted into action. Heading through the line of traffic, he narrowly missed the front bumper of an SUV. Once in the clear, he broke into a run. Horns honked as Maguire ran closely behind, fast at Michael's heels.
Once Michael reached the stairway he took two steps at a time, dropping Maguire's leash. At the top of the landing he found one woman on her back being strangled. The woman in a black coat on her knees, her fingers wrapped around the other woman's throat. And then a third woman, wearing a yellow parka, stood to the side calling out, "Keep squeezing," to the woman on top.
Michael ran toward the black-coated screaming woman. Bending over he grasped her hands and wrenched her fingers free from the victim's neck. She tried to shake him off, but he held her arms firmly.
He dragged the assailant to her feet. She yanked her arm again, this time pulling away from his grasp. Michael watched her closely. When she didn't go back after the other woman he said, "Stay back there. I'll see if she's okay."
The black-coated woman complied, her friend's arm around her shoulders.
At first the victim curled up into a ball, lying in a fetal position. But then she rolled up to a sitting position, her purse clutched in her hand. He took a step back to give her some room. Once again he eyed the black-coated woman and her friend to make sure they were keeping clear.
By now people from the town had stopped shopping to watch with interest. It wasn't every day that three women, obviously dressed expensively, physically fought in public.
"Step back and give them space," Michael urged, moving to block the assailant and her friend from the victim. No one came closer, so he turned slightly to check on the victim. "Do you need help? Should I call 911?” Before she could answer, a familiar voice interrupted.
"All right, move aside, move aside," came the firm voice of Janis Jets. He could see her head and then body appear at the top of the steps. "What's going on here?" She stepped in front of the battered woman, kneeling down to look her in the face.
The woman still held her purse close to her body, her face streaked with tears. "I don't know what's going on. Both of those women came out of nowhere and just started attacking me, hitting me with their purses. Look at my head!" She pointed to a bump that had begun to trickle blood. “And then that woman in the black coat tried to choke me to death.”
"Do you know these ladies?" Jets asked.
"I've seen them around," the woman said in a lower voice.
Then the assailant spoke up.
"She knows us, don't let her say otherwise." Up closer, Michael could see that she wore an expensive-looking black suede coat, belted at the waist. A bright pink leather purse hung from her shoulder. "And I want to lodge a formal complaint."
Jets stood up straight. "You don't get to lodge a complaint. She's the victim!" In a loud and certain voice, Jets added, "And you could have killed her!”
Michael blinked. Am I seeing things? While Jets had been talking he'd noticed that both the victim and the assailant carried the same style handbag. Kinda pricey, crocodile leather is expensive. His eyes took in more detail. The other woman standing next to the assailant also had the same handbag. The long strap handles looked identical in shape, plus the feet on the bottom were brass. All of the bags were the same rectangular shape. The only difference was the color. One bag was pink, the other green, and the last silver-gray.
I’m not a purse specialist or anything, but that seems very odd to me. He spoke up. "Officer Jets. Can we talk?"
Jets's head jerked around. She began to shake her head no but then stopped. "Excuse me, ladies. Don't move. I'll be right over here with my eye on all three of you." She came closer to Michael. "What do you want?"
"There's something weird about those three," he whispered in her ear.
"Just spit it out. I don't have time for theatrics," Jets growled.
"Look at their purses."
Jets's face froze. Staring at one woman, then the next, she shrugged. Then she nodded. "Those are Birkin bags," she told him.
"I saw a woman earlier with the same style handbag. Now these three women, that makes four in just an hour. What's a Berlin?”
"That's a Birkin, not a Berlin. Very high-end. Eighty-five hundred for the cheap ones. They go up in price to over a hundred grand. Even Walmart handles Birkins online—thirty thousand each. Only the very rich and the wannabe rich can afford them."
"So all of these women have similar expensive brand bags…" Michael knew better than to make fun of a woman's handbag.
"Now that's what I'm wondering," Jets mused. She went back to the group.
"Alright ladies, I can't help but notice all of you are carrying a Birkin bag. Very nice, especially this time of year. Does that have anything to do with the battering and assault of this woman?"
"She told us ours were knockoffs!" The woman in the black suede coat pointed at the victim in red. "She had the nerve to point out how the brass feet at the bottom of my bag weren't hammered in and that only the fakes had screw-in feet."
Jets’s mouth tightened. She spoke to the woman still sitting on the wood deck. "How do you know these women aren't sporting the real deal? Are you some kind of expert?"
Despite her bruised face and the blood now trickling from a wound over her temple, the woman held her own bag in the air triumphantly. "This is a real Birkin. My husband bought it for me in Europe. Look at the distinct green color. Plus I know the difference because I am a handbag collector." She gestured with her brightly manicured forefinger. "Those women have fakes. They're not the only ones. I've been in town for a few days and I've seen any number of Birkin knockoffs on women's arms. Fakes, every single one of them."
Jets nodded and then turned back to the three women. "So where did you get your Birkin bags?"
"Right here in Lily Rock!"
"We got them from the same place. The lady who dressed as Mrs. Claus at that shop." The assailant pointed to Old Toy Trains. "After the first time, we came up together to get gifts for friends."
"So you all paid Mrs. Claus…" Jets mused. Then her hand reached around to ease her backpack off her shoulder. Michael grinned as she looked at the beat-up exterior and the one strap hanging by a thread. Not exactly Janis's deal, expensive handbags.
The friend of the assailant let out an exasperated sigh. "We'd walk through the shop and pretend to look around. Then Mrs. Claus would meet us in the back storage room. We'd hand over the money and she'd give us the Birkin. When we said we were satisfied, she tucked the purse inside an Old Toy Trains shopping bag. No one even looked at us as we exited the shop. Mrs. Claus said we were getting the highest end bag for a mere four grand.”
Michael’s jaw dropped. Robyn was the instigator of this scam?
His thoughts were interrupted when the assailant's cell phone chimed. She pulled it out of her bag and silenced the alarm before shoving it back.
Jets tapped at her iPad. She's biding her time, maybe wondering if she should arrest these women. When Janis finally looked up, it seemed to Michael that she had made her decision. "I have another inquiry that requires my immediate attention. I am going to write down everything you said. And then I'll take your names. If you want to press charges about your fake Birkins or the assault, you can find me at the constabulary. It would mean reading over the statements and signing them before you leave town."
Michael watched as the two women with the fake Birkin bags stepped in front of Jets. She took their names and contact information. By the time she got to the assault victim she asked, "Bringing charges?"
"I don't think so," the woman replied. "Their humiliation at getting duped is enough for me. Sweet revenge thinking of them out four grand each just to carry around a fake alligator purse."