Duffel Bags And Drownings (5 page)

Dan Grayson shuffled his feet a little, then shrugged.

“I wanted to let you know about your jacket,” he said.

What the heck was he talking about?

“The one you had on yesterday when you pulled the victim out of the water,” he said.
“We took it into evidence.”

This was the reason he’d scared the crap out of me? To let me know about my jacket
I’d left hanging in the ladies room at Cady Faye to dry? Was this a supreme lame-o
reason to come here, or what?

Was this some sort of cop subterfuge? Did he think he could lull me into an I’m-here-to-help-you
conversation, then get me to confess to something?

I glanced around. Were there undercover cops in the garage shooting video of this
meeting?

I fluffed my hair, just in case.

“So,” he said, and blew out a heavy breath, “I, ah, I just wanted to let you know
so you wouldn’t think it had been stolen, or something.”

He looked at me and I looked back. I couldn’t think of anything to say and, apparently,
neither could he. We seemed to be suspended in some sort of middle-school moment that
neither of us wanted to break free of.

Finally, he seemed to give himself a little shake then said, “I’m not sure when it
will be returned to you. At the conclusion of the case, whenever that happens.”

“I don’t want it back,” I said. “It’s got dead-person cooties on it.”

Dan grinned. “Those are the worst kind.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Something about Dan made me nervous and calm, all at
the same time.

Still, I saw no reason not to turn this conversation into something that would benefit
me.

“I didn’t kill Jeri,” I said.

He kept grinning, as if he’d expected I’d say that and would have been disappointed
if I hadn’t.

“I can’t discuss the case,” he said.

“I didn’t ask you to discuss it,” I told him. “I was simply telling you that I’m not
the person you should be checking into.”

Dan nodded. “And who do you think I should be investigating?”

Was he asking for my help? Was he hoping for some info I hadn’t already divulged?
Or, perhaps, had he uncovered no suspects and wondered if I had?

I didn’t want to confess to my suspicion about Lourdes and Cady because, really, they
were nothing but I’m-desperate-for-a-suspect thoughts. I figured that he already knew
about the extra-large server who’d taken off without turning in his leprechaun costume,
and I didn’t want to look like an idiot by telling him something he already knew.

“I heard that Jeri wasn’t well liked,” I said.

He frowned a cop-frown. “Faye Delaney indicated she was highly regarded.”

“By Faye, yes,” I said. “But bosses are usually the last to know.”

Dan nodded and was quiet for a while. “Did anyone mention that Jeri was romantically
involved with someone?”

I knew immediately that if he was asking me this question it was because he’d found
some indication that Jeri had been murdered by a psycho she’d been dating, or a jealous
lover.

“Nobody said anything,” I told him. “Did she have a boyfriend? Do you think he killed
her?”

“Yes, and maybe,” Dan said. “Her boyfriend was married.”

Visions of a wronged wife with angry friends and relatives, and any ex-boyfriends
that Jeri might have had, flashed in my head.

“Lots of people could have a motive for killing Jeri,” I said.

Dan gave me a rueful smile. “And I’m checking out all of them.”

I guess a homicide detective’s work is never done.

“If I hear anything I’ll let you know,” I said.

“I would appreciate that,” Dan said, and sounded as if he really meant it. He pulled
a business card from his jacket pocket and passed it to me. “Call if you learn anything.”

I took his card and headed for my Honda. He walked along with me, then hurried a few
steps ahead to open the door for me.

I stood on one side, Dan on the other. Some sort of crazy heat circulated between
us.

“Am I still not allowed to leave town?” I asked.

Dan leaned a little closer. He smelled great.

“I’d come after you, if you did,” he said.

Wow. It might be fun to give it a try.

* * *

My cell phone chimed as I drove down Ventura Boulevard. When I stopped at the next
light, I glanced at the screen and saw that it was a text message from Marcie recommending
we put boots on the ground and do a hard-target search for the Flirtatious handbag
tonight.

I was scheduled for a shift at Holt’s this evening. I’d blown off working there last
night using the touch-of-the-stomach-flu excuse—a personal favorite of mine. I saw
no reason it couldn’t stretch into a two-shift event.

Of course jeopardizing my job at Holt’s, my sad-but-it’s-true only reliable employer,
might not have been the smartest move with this whole someone-could-get-fired thing
going on at L.A. Affairs, but oh well. I texted Marcie back promising to meet her
later tonight.

I had a number of events to follow up on, but the Brannocks’ St. Patrick’s Day party
was the biggest in my windshield. It was just days away and I wasn’t feeling all that
great about Cady Faye Catering. Even though Faye had promised everything would be
handled smoothly, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on what was going on there.

Plus, now I had another suspect in Jeri’s death. Detective Grayson had told me she
was involved with a married man, a situation that offered a plethora of suspects.
Maybe somebody who worked for Cady Faye Catering could give me some inside info on
who the guy was, and how I could find him.

As I turned left from Ventura Boulevard into the shopping center’s parking lot, Jack
Bishop popped into my head. I’d seen him here yesterday. No sign of him today—so far,
anyway. He could be super stealthy—as a way-hot private detective would be.

I cruised around to the rear of the building and parked. The space was jammed with
cars, pick-ups, delivery trucks, and Cady Faye Catering vans. Just like yesterday,
a van was backed into the receiving area. I grabbed my portfolio and went inside.

Nothing much had changed since yesterday. The catering staff formed an ant trail from
somewhere deeper in the building to the van. Servers milled around getting into their
Cady Faye vests and bow ties. Construction workers hustled back and forth, shouting
and dragging equipment.

I found my way through the maze of hallways to the offices near the front of the building.
Lourdes was inside one of them—a bare bones space crying out for a high-limit credit
card from Macy’s—working at her computer.

I’d considered her a suspect simply because she hadn’t hesitated to let me know she
didn’t like Jeri. I wanted to get some info from her today that would make me move
her into my mental yeah-you-probably-did-it category, or disregard her as a suspect
completely.

“Hi,” I called from the doorway. “Got a minute?”

Lourdes spotted me and said, “Sure, Haley. Come on in.”

Lourdes’ office was neat and orderly. File folders were stacked uniformly on the edge
of her desk; her pencil cup, stapler, and paperclip holder were in perfect alignment
with her keyboard.

“It looks like business as usual around here,” I said, taking the chair in front of
her desk.

“Of course,” Lourdes said, squaring off her stapler. “We’re extremely busy with multiple
events every day. We can’t let anything slow us down.”

“Not even a murder?” I asked.

Okay, that sounded kind of stinky but I needed info and didn’t have a lot of time
to wait around for it.

Lourdes forced a smile. “I realize this might seem cold, but nothing can interfere
with our work. Certainly not a personnel issue.”

Finding an employee murdered seemed like more than a simple personnel issue, but I
understood what Lourdes was getting at. Cady Faye Catering events were planned months
in advance. Tons of preparation went into them—buying the food, preparing it, scheduling
servers—and clients expected to get what they’d paid for, regardless.

“Are any of your employees weirded-out about Jeri getting killed here in the building?”
I asked.

“Some,” Lourdes said. “But nobody is worried there’s a catering company employee murderer
on the loose. Most of them let it roll off. They know Jeri was no saint.”

“Because she was involved with a married man?” I asked.

“Not everybody is okay with that sort of thing,” Lourdes told me.

I got the impression that Lourdes was one of those people who wasn’t okay with it.
I was one of those people also. I’ve got a thing about people being honest in their
relationships.

Even though we’d broken up, Ty Cameron flashed in my head—that still happened a lot.
When he’d been my official boyfriend, I’d been a real stickler about not getting involved—no
matter how slightly—with anyone else.

Images of Ty lingered in my mind. I pushed hard to force them out.

“Jeri always did what she wanted to do with no concern for anyone else,” Lourdes said.
She stopped, as if she thought she’d said too much, and gestured to the portfolio
in my lap. “Are there any questions I can answer about the Brannock party?”

“I need to go over the menu with Cady,” I said. “Is she here today?”

“Of course,” Lourdes said. “She’s in the kitchen.”

Lourdes hadn’t exactly been mega-forthcoming with info on Jeri, but there was still
something she could help me with.

“One more thing,” I said. “One of the size extra-large leprechaun costumes wasn’t
turned in. I need the contact info for the two guys who tried them on.”

Lourdes hesitated, which didn’t suit me, so what could I do but push ahead with a
total lie?

“L.A. Affairs is responsible for the costumes,” I said. “It’s in our contract with
the costume shop.”

Lourdes stared at me. I could tell she didn’t really believe me.

The important thing about telling a lie was to not oversell it. I sat there staring
at Lourdes. I could almost see her brain working. Giving out confidential employee
info could cause a problem, but offending me and possibly causing a dispute between
L.A. Affairs and Maisie’s Costume Shop—two places essential to the success of Cady
Faye’s Catering—would be a disaster.

Lourdes turned to her computer. “Names?”

I whipped out my cell phone and accessed Wendy’s text, and showed it to Lourdes. She
clicked a few keys, and a sheet of paper glided out of the printer. She passed it
across the desk to me.

“Thank you,” I said, tucking it inside the portfolio, and struggling to suppress my
I-won smile.

I left her office. As I headed down the hallway, I spotted a young woman lingering
nearby. She had on one of those white coats that a chef wears, and a funky red scarf
covering her hair. I figured her for early twenties.

“Excuse me,” she said quietly. “Is it okay if I talk to you?”

I stopped. “Sure.”

She glanced back toward Lourdes’ office. “Not here. Okay?”

I followed her around a corner, then another corner. We stopped near the janitor’s
closet. There wasn’t a lot of action in this part of the building, so we had the place
pretty much to ourselves—but maybe that was because a little farther down the hallway
yellow crime scene tape covered the door to the ice room.

“My name is Sierra. I’ve worked here for a while,” she said quietly. “Look, I know
Lourdes has been talking crap about Jeri, and I wanted you to know it’s not true.”

“You and Jeri were friends?” I asked.

She gave me a sad smile. “We’re in culinary school together. You know, the one in
Pasadena. Faye’s really good about giving students a chance. She hired me a few months
ago, so I told Jeri she should apply here, too. She did, but it wasn’t working out
so well for her.”

“Because Lourdes didn’t like her?” I asked.

Sierra’s shoulder sagged and she shook her head. “I guess I shouldn’t have suggested
it to Jeri. I knew Lourdes worked here but I didn’t think she disliked Jeri so much.
I swear I didn’t.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Lourdes was struggling with some of her classes,” Sierra said. “But, I mean, who
wasn’t? It’s not as easy as people think.”

“Hang on a second,” I said. “Lourdes was in culinary school with you and Jeri?”

“Yes,” she said. “Only Lourdes was having major money problems. She had to drop out.
She kind of had it in for Jeri because Jeri was, you know, really great at everything,
plus she got all kinds of scholarships that Lourdes thought she didn’t really need.
Lourdes thought it robbed her of the money she could have used to stay in school.”

“So it must have really ticked her off when Faye hired Jeri to work here,” I said.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Sierra said. “She seemed to think Jeri was angling for
her job, trying to take over. It didn’t help that Faye thought the world of Jeri.”

I could understand how Lourdes must have felt. First, Jeri had been a stand-out in
culinary school, eventually forcing her to drop out when Jeri got the scholarships
Lourdes felt should have been hers. Then when she found a great job at Cady Faye,
here comes Jeri, a darling in Faye’s eyes.

“Despite what Lourdes says about her,” Sierra said, “Jeri is—was—a good person.”

“Even though she was involved with a married man?” I asked.

Okay, that was kind of crappy of me, but I wanted to get Sierra’s read on that whole
thing.

“They loved each other. Really,” Sierra insisted. “He was getting a divorce. Jeri
confirmed it with her roommate who worked for the attorney who was handling everything.
Her name is Molly. The lawyer is that Horowitz guy whose face is plastered on all
the buses. You can ask her yourself, if you don’t believe me.”

“So there’s no chance this had anything to do with Jeri’s death?” I asked.

“No way,” Sierra said.

“The guy she was involved with, he didn’t change his mind? Didn’t have a psycho wife?
Kids who blamed Jeri for the breakup?” I asked.

Sierra shook her head. “They didn’t have any kids. His wife was already involved with
somebody else—they were getting a divorce before Jeri came along.”