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21

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Bullock’s

A building with cars on the street

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There were only a few customers inside the café, and they sat at a table by the window.  “Did you want something to eat?” Preston asked.

“I’m not hungry.  I should make a phone call, too.  Later this afternoon, I’m supposed to meet someone at Cole’s Restaurant.  Of course, that’s out of the question now.”

Preston raised a brow.  “Do you have a date?”

“It’s none of your business, but he’s a wholesale buyer for Bullock’s department store.  The executives were meeting this morning to look over my portfolio and decide if they wanted to carry my designs in their store.  He was going to let me know their decision over drinks.  Why is it that when the chance of a lifetime comes along, something always gets in the way of it?”

“Don’t be such a pessimist, Vivian.  He can let you know their decision over the phone just as easily as he could in person.  Let me give Barney a quick call first.  I’ll just take a cup of coffee if the waitress ever wanders over here.”

“Now, who sounds like a pessimist?”

After Vivian ordered their coffee and sat there drinking hers, she thought about George, and what a mess he’d left in her lap.  As if his infidelity wasn’t enough to contend with, he stole two million dollars worth of coins, caused the deaths of up to four people so far, including himself, and put her and a few others in danger.  Whatever happened from here, she prayed Becca would never find out what type of man her father was and the destruction that he’d caused.

Preston slipped into the seat across from her and took a swig of his coffee.  “You’re not going to believe this.  Barney talked to Freddie, and it seems our security guard, Jack Farrell, not only works at the Bank of America, but he also works for a couple of other businesses.  Are you ready for this?”

“Just tell me.”

“Two days a week, Farrell works as a security guard at the Seymour Realty building on Vine Street.”

“That’s where David works.”

“I think that’s a little too coincidental.  Remember our speculations about Tilly?  Let’s replace David in that theory.  What if David knew George intended to take the coin collection, and that’s why they were preparing for a trip to France?  But David thought George died before he had a chance to actually steal them.  Then last week, the security guard informed David that the coins were gone.  David would immediately assume that you had them.”

She thought about it.  “I don’t know, Preston.  It seems a little far-fetched that David and the security guard knew each other, let alone being close enough to discuss stolen coins.  Frankly, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if David had the coins and cashed them in, but I can’t see him threatening and killing people.”

“If David had counted on splitting the two million dollars with George and lost his chance, he probably feels entitled to them now.  There’s also a chance that all three of them were working together, the security guard included.”

“I suppose it’s a possibility, but again, all we have are speculations.  I’m going to make that phone call.”  Vivian walked over and dialed Gary’s number.  She let it ring several times before hanging up.  She was aching to know what the executives had decided.  Some good news would help make all of this a little more bearable.  She sat down at the table again.  “There wasn’t any answer.  Where are we going from here?”

“Let’s take a drive to Seymour Realty,” Preston said. “I’d like to inquire about David’s whereabouts this morning.  I’ll handle this one by myself since you know him, but I doubt I’ll be able to come up with a story that would top the one you told at the shoe store.”

They finished their coffee and drove to Vine Street.  It was twelve-thirty by the time Preston pulled down the side road next to the building and parked a short distance away.  As Vivian waited for Preston in the car, she watched the people walking on the sidewalk and driving by in case she saw David coming or going. 

It was only a few minutes when Preston returned.  “The receptionist said David was out in the field with clients all morning.  She wasn’t sure if he was coming back to the office today.”

“Since we’re in the area, would you mind if we made a quick stop?” Vivian asked.  “Bullock’s department store isn’t far from here on Wilshire Boulevard.  Someone there should be able to get a message to Gary, the wholesale buyer.  I don’t want him waiting for me at Cole’s Restaurant later, and I never show up.  This is too important to me.”

“Sure, I know where it is.”  Preston pulled away from the curb and headed down Vine Street. 

The department store was only a few miles away, and Preston dropped Vivian off at the front entrance.  She went through the double doors, walked to the elevators at the back of the store, and looked at the directory plaque on the wall.  The administrative offices were on the tenth floor, and she was happy to discover that Gary Rutherford’s name was listed among the executives. 

Vivian got on the elevator and when the doors opened on the tenth floor, a young woman was sitting behind the receptionist’s desk straight ahead.  She walked over to her.  “Good afternoon, my name is Vivian Steele.  I tried to call Mister Rutherford earlier, but there was no answer.  I wondered if I could leave a message for him?”

“He just came back from lunch.  Let me see if he’s available.”  The woman picked up the phone.  “Vivian Steele is here to see you.  Yes, sir.”  She hung up.  “You may go right in, Miss Steele.  His office is the second door on the left.”

Vivian thanked her and walked down the hall.  She knocked before opening the door and saw a heavyset, gray-haired man sitting behind the desk.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  I must have the wrong office.  I’m looking for Gary Rutherford.”

He stood up, smiling.  “As far as I know, that’s my name.  How can I help you, Miss Steele?”

Vivian’s voice caught in her throat.  “Are...are you the wholesale buyer for the store?”

“I’m one of them, and a rather good one, in my opinion.  Why don’t you tell me why you’re here, and we’ll see if I can help you.”

Her breaths came short and quick now, and she stared at the floor, scowling and trying to make sense of this.  She didn’t know what to do.

“Are you all right, Miss?”

“No, not really.  It seems someone played me for a fool.  A man impersonating you led me to believe...never mind.  I’m sorry for disturbing you.”  She quickly closed the door behind her and tried to steady herself as she walked down the hall to the elevator. 

Once inside, Vivian pressed her back against the wall of the elevator and closed her eyes, feeling like her entire world had been shattered again.  She couldn’t believe it.  The whole thing was a lie.  There was never a potential contract with Bullocks or an executive meeting.  The man she’d met for lunch and at Carole’s party was a damn imposter. 

To make matters worse, as the elevator traveled down to the main level, it stopped on every floor along the way and filled up with customers.  Claustrophobia had never been an issue for her, but right now, she could barely breathe and felt trapped and was desperate to get away from this crowd, the confines of the elevator, and even this moment in time.

When the elevator doors finally opened on the main floor, she practically pushed her way out and headed down the center aisle to the front door.  It occurred to her that the imposter was their mystery man, which meant they at least had a face to put on him now, but that didn’t help her shake this sickening feeling of being duped.

Vivian reached the double doors and stood there, looking out the window at Preston sitting in his car out front.  Telling him what happened was going to be nearly as painful as the rest. 

That’s when a brief memory flashed in her mind and gave her an idea.  She shoved the door open, went outside, and got into the car.  “We need to make one more stop in the city.”

“All right.  Where are we going?”

“The corner of Alameda and First Street.”  The minute Vivian spoke, she remembered Preston had seen her talking with Lucky on that same corner last Friday.  “Don’t even think about asking me why we’re going there, Preston.  You have your friends, and I have mine.  Let’s just leave it at that for now.”  And neither of them said another word the entire way, not until fifteen minutes later when they drove down First Street and approached Alameda Street. 

“Do you want me to park somewhere?” Preston asked.

“Pull over in front of Lou’s Tavern.  It’s right on the corner.”  Vivian took a pen and a small notepad out of her purse.  “What is the telephone number at your estate?”

“Vivian, what’s going on?” 

But she sat there, waiting for his answer until he gave her the number.  She wrote it down and got out of the car.  “I’ll be right back.” 

The tavern was small, dark, and dingy, and reeked of stale beer and cigar smoke.  The patrons inside, sitting at the bar and scattered around at the tables, all set their drinks down to stare at her.  With a determined gait, Vivian walked over to the bar and waited for the bartender to notice her, which only took a matter of seconds.

“How can I help you, Miss?”

She reached over and handed the note to him.  “Please give this to Lucky and tell him it’s extremely important.”

“Will do.”

Vivian left just as quickly as she came and got back into the car.  She sat there quietly for a moment.  “He called me on my private number, Preston.”

“Who did?”

“The man posing as Gary Rutherford, the wholesale buyer for Bullocks.  I should have caught that right away.  My apartment number isn’t listed in the telephone book, and I’ve only given it out to a handful of close friends.”  She turned her head and glared at him.  “You called me on it, too, right after we saw that movie at the Liberty Theatre.  How did you get the number?”

“Uh...well, my friend Barney has access to all the unlisted...”

“Damn it!  I’m smarter than that.  I’ve always spotted errors and red flags like that right away, not days later when it’s too late.  What the hell is wrong with me?”

“You’ve been dealing with a lot lately, Vivian.”

“That’s no excuse.  Imagine my surprise when I met the real Gary Rutherford upstairs at Bullock’s.  I went out to lunch with the imposter, and he was at Carole’s party, too.  I played right into his hand like some dolt.  If he’s our mystery man, I don’t know how he ties into all of this, but it seems more likely than not.”

Preston perked up.  “So, you know what he looks like?”

“I might be able to do better than that.  The friend I met here last Friday saw us together after lunch on Wednesday.  He might know the imposter’s name.  If not, I’ll sketch the rat’s portrait for you, and you can have your friends try to find him.  Can we go back to your estate now?  I want to wait for Lucky to call me.”

“Lucky?”

“Don’t even go there, Preston.”  Vivian threw herself back against her seat and folded her arms in front of her, but when the car didn’t move, she glared at Preston again.  “What’s the matter?”

“We need those coins.  If this imposter is our guy, we don’t know anything about him.  Even with a name, he’s too clever to leave an easy trail, so finding him is going to take time.  Our only hope is getting our hands on those coins.  Barney is checking into David’s financial records in case he’s already cashed them.  Do you have Becca’s phone number with you?  If not, I think we need to go to Ruth’s and check out that box you gave her.”