CHAPTER 4

What the heck?

My eyes opened to tiny slits. They felt scratchy. My mouth tasted yucky, and jeez, my head was hurting. What was wrong with me?

I forced both eyes open and—

Where was I?

I sat straight up in bed—oh my God, I was in bed?

I went into semi-panic mode as I looked around.

This wasn’t my bed. It wasn’t my room.

And whose T-shirt was I wearing?

I sprang up, hurried to the window, and cracked the plantation shutters a tiny fraction. Morning sunlight beamed in, nearly blinding me. I squinted and saw a parking lot one floor below, and realized I was in an apartment or maybe a condo complex. But whose?

My phone was on the nightstand. I grabbed it and saw I had one missed call. It had come in late last night from Liam.

I looked around the room—gray sheets, dark wood furniture, decorator-selected art on the walls—and knew it was definitely a man’s room.

Liam’s room?

My brain refused to process any information, but I forced myself to think.

No, I hadn’t seen Liam last night. At least, I didn’t remember seeing Liam last night. The last thing I clearly remembered was meeting up with Jack and—

Oh my God. Oh my God.

Was I in Jack’s bedroom?

Had I spent the night here? With him?

I crept to the bedroom door and opened it a crack. All I could see was a hallway, the doors to another bedroom and a bathroom, and a staircase leading downstairs. I saw no one. I heard nothing.

Should I call Jack’s name? No, wait. What if I really was at Liam’s?

Would that be totally awkward, or what?

Okay, this was more than I could handle.

I dashed around the bedroom, threw on my clothes, and grabbed my cell phone. As I was envisioning calling Marcie to pick me up, I rushed down the stairs and spotted my handbag and keys on a table by the front door. Next to them was a stack of mail. The Edison bill on top was addressed to Jack.

Oh my God, what had I done last night?

I ramped up to total panic mode.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I forced my thoughts back to last night. The restaurant. Having another glass of wine. Talking to Jack about the murder at Holt’s. Having another glass of wine. Telling him about the Mystique clutch. Having another glass of wine. Telling him about . . . about—oh my God, I couldn’t remember what else I’d talked to Jack about. I couldn’t remember what had happened after that.

My eyes popped open.

Jack must have brought me here. Had I passed out? Was my mouth gaping open? Was I snoring? Drooling?

The cringe-worthy image sent a shudder through me.

No way did I want to see Jack right now. Not when I couldn’t remember exactly what had happened. Not when I was at this much of a disadvantage.

I grabbed my things, went outside and followed the sidewalk to a parking lot. I hit the button on my remote, my car chirped, and I spotted it at the end of the row.

I had no idea how it had gotten here.

I really hoped I hadn’t driven it.

I jumped in and sped away.

* * *

“I knew you’d screw up the orientation, Princess,” Rita barked as I walked into the Holt’s employee breakroom.

After the morning I’d had, Holt’s, orientation, and Rita—most especially Rita—were the last things I was concerned about.

Leaving Jack’s place—oh my God, I still couldn’t believe that had happened—I’d swung through Starbucks, which I desperately needed, and chugged my all-time favorite drink, a mocha Frappuccino. I’d gone to my apartment and pulled myself together, and had managed to get to Holt’s on time.

I still didn’t feel all that great—despite the Frappie.

This thing with Rita wasn’t helping.

About a half-dozen other employees were scattered around the breakroom, some eating, others chatting, all of them wishing they were anywhere but here.

Or maybe that was just me.

“Because of you, almost all the new hires quit,” Rita said.

I walked past her and stowed my handbag—a Dooney & Bourke barrel that far surpassed my Holt’s-worthy jeans and navy-blue sweater—in my locker. I palmed my cell phone— we’re not supposed to have them with us on the sales floor, but oh well—and saw a text from Juanita.

Crap.

How much worse was this day going to get?

Juanita was my mom’s housekeeper. She’d been with our family for as long as I could remember.

I ignored the text and slid my cell phone into the pocket of my jeans.

“Now what are we supposed to do?” Rita demanded, as I headed for the time clock. “We’re short-staffed.”

Some of the employees seated at the tables glanced at me.

“Everybody is going to have to work longer hours,” she said.

A murmur went through the room.

“Everybody is going to have to cover more shifts,” Rita went on. “Days off and vacations will be cancelled.”

Now everyone was staring.

“All because you screwed up the orientation,” Rita told me.

The unpleasant murmur morphed into grumbling, and I was hit with major stink-eye from everyone.

“You’d better hope the rumor I heard isn’t true,” Rita said.

Rumor? What rumor?

I hate it when I miss a rumor.

A guy I didn’t know got up from a table. “Yeah, thanks a lot, Haley.”

Two girls rose, gave me serious bitch face, and followed him out of the breakroom.

Rita glared at me for a few more seconds, then left.

Oh my God, what was going on?

In a complete departure from my own personal code of conduct, I clocked in three minutes early and went out onto the sales floor. The store was crowded, thanks to Holt’s yes-Christmas-is-over-but-that’s-no-reason-not-to-continue-running-up-your-credit-card January sales.

I made my way past the children’s clothing department to the housewares section. I spotted Bella unloading towels from a U-boat. Today she’d fashioned her hair into a number of disks that spanned her head.

She looked like a radar installation.

Standing next to her was Sandy, my other Holt’s BFF.

Sandy was young with hair that varied between red and blond, which she usually wore in a ponytail. She always managed to find the best in any situation—which was really annoying at times—including her tattoo artist boyfriend who treated her like crap. Despite my oh-so-good advice, she refused to break up with him.

Go figure.

“Everybody’s talking about what happened yesterday,” Sandy said, as she arranged washcloths on a display shelf. “Poor Asha.”

Here was the boost my day desperately needed. Maybe I could learn something that would lead me to Asha’s murderer and get me out of Detectives Madison’s crosshairs.

“You knew Asha?” I asked.

“She was nice,” Sandy said.

“I thought she was weird,” Bella told me, and wedged a stack of towels onto a shelf.

“She was so interested in everything that went on in the store,” Sandy said. “She loved it here.”

“See? Weird,” Bella said.

I couldn’t disagree.

“She wanted to know all about where the stock came from, who kept track of the inventory, what happened to the merchandise that didn’t sell,” Sandy said. “It seemed like she wanted to seriously work here. Seriously.”

Bella and I exchanged an eye roll.

“So why did she quit?” I asked.

“Maybe she came to her senses,” Bella said.

“No, no, I don’t think that was it,” Sandy said, and lapsed into thought for a few seconds. “She got a better-paying job, I think. Yeah, that was it. She really needed the money.”

“Remember that old beat-up Chevy she drove?” Bella said.

The thing was a real eyesore, with a bashed-in door, a dent in the rear bumper, and a primer-gray fender. You couldn’t miss it in the parking lot.

“Any idea why she was here yesterday, hanging around out back?” I asked.

“No clue,” Bella said, and picked up more towels from the U-boat. “You ask me, it’s all b.s. Nobody’s ever going to see me hanging around this place after I quit. That would be b.s. Serious b.s.”

Sandy shrugged and said, “I can’t believe Asha’s really dead. It’s so sad.”

“And I can’t believe they’d close the store because of her,” Bella said.

My senses jumped to high alert.

“That’s the rumor going around?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Bella said. “What’s supposed to happen to all of us?”

“Holt’s has a lot of stores,” Sandy said. “They can transfer us.”

“After they work us half to death because we’re short-handed,” Bella said. “They might even cancel my vacay. Now that’s some b.s. right there.”

“Everybody is blaming me for the new hires quitting,” I said. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Well, Haley, you did find the dead body,” Sandy pointed out.

That made perfect sense so, of course, no way did I want to hang around and deal with it.

“Later,” I said, and headed back across the store.

I’d been in such a rush to get out of the breakroom earlier, I hadn’t checked the schedule to see which department I was assigned to work in. But when I reached the breakroom, I didn’t go inside. I decided to talk to Jeanette and see if I could get more intel on the store-closing rumor.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket as I headed down the hallway. Liam flew into my head. He’d called me last night.

I cringed at the memory. Liam was my sort-of boyfriend. Not only had I not returned his call last night, I’d . . . I’d—

Well, I’d done something. I didn’t know what, exactly, which was why I never drank to excess. If I did something crazy or wild, I wanted to remember it, not be shocked when the pics showed up on Facebook.

I checked my phone’s ID screen and saw another text message from Mom’s housekeeper, Juanita. This was really strange. It had been a really strange morning. I wasn’t all that happy about adding my mom to the mix.

Mom was a former pageant queen. In fact, she still thought she was a pageant queen. Everything in her life revolved around fashion, beauty, appearance, and, of course, herself. She was stunningly beautiful and completely out of touch with reality.

I’m not like that.

Growing up was a real joy.

Juanita’s text indicated I should call because something was wrong. I wasn’t alarmed. Mom’s problems ranged from booking an emergency manicure after spotting a hangnail to requiring a therapy session because her issue of Vogue had arrived with a wrinkle in the cover.

No way was I calling her now.

When I walked into Jeanette’s office, I thought I was on the verge of fainting, then realized the spots appearing before my eyes were actually on the purple and white polka-dot shirtwaist dress she was wearing.

Not a good look for her.

“Is the rumor true?” I asked as I walked inside.

Yeah, sure, Jeanette was the store manager and I was a lowly sales clerk, but Jeanette knew I’d been dating Ty, her boss. This obligated her to cut me some extra slack. She must have learned that Ty and I had broken up, but so far she hadn’t treated me in a fashion commensurate with my position. I figured she was reluctant to do so, in case Ty and I got back together.

Really, you can’t blame her.

“Corporate wants to get out in front of this situation and resolve the matter before it becomes a big news story,” Jeanette explained.

If the store were already closed, even something as salacious as finding a murder victim on the premises would lose most of its punch, leaving little to report on. I could see why corporate thought this was a good idea—except for one thing.

“What about the employees?” I asked—and our employee discount, I wanted to add. I didn’t. It might make me seem shallow. Which, I guess, I was. But, oh my God, this involved an eighty percent discount on the fabulous Mystique clutch bag. How could I not be concerned?

“We’ll be transferred to other Holt’s stores, right?” I asked.

Jeanette’s expression turned grim—not a good sign.

“Sales are down this month, as usual for January,” she said. “There are a few openings in other stores. Not many.”

This was really not a good sign.

“So who will get transferred to the open spots?” I asked, thinking, And keep the employee discount at Nuovo, of course.

“Employees selected for transfer will be those who have achieved our Employee of the Month award,” Jeanette said.

What?

“The store will present one final award this month,” Jeanette explained. “Whoever earns it will be assured of a place in another of our Holt’s locations.”

I went into serious panic mode.

To keep my job—and my employee discount at Nuovo—I was going to have to be the Employee of the Month?

Oh, crap.