Dusted (16 page)

“Miriam,” I said, using the same sort of voice I’d use if I were talking to a bear, or a rabid dog. “It will be okay. You can turn yourself in and—”

She reached into her purse.

Yes, I realized immediately that I should have noticed the purse and wondered why an employee was carrying it around the art studio. But I hadn’t, at least not until the moment she reached into and pulled out a tiny little, pearl handled gun. I mean, the thing was tiny. I wondered just how big a bullet it would hold, and how much damage a tiny bulled could inflict.

“Don’t underestimate this. I’m close enough that it can kill you.” The gun wavered in her hand.

“Now, Miriam, you don’t want to do that. Stealing artwork is one thing, but murder is a different thing entirely.” I thought of Mr. Banning and didn’t want someone to walk in and find me with a hole in my chest.

“It shouldn’t have come to this. It was a victimless crime,” she whined.

“I don’t know how you figure that,” I told her. “The people you stole from were victims.”

“They’re insured. They got their money back. I know, because I’ve got mine.”

I had a light bulb moment. “That’s how it started, right? You took your own paintings, replaced them with forgeries and sold the originals. But then you ran out of pieces that were simple to copy. You went into your client’s homes.”

“I went into the Giffords’. The first two pieces they bought here, but I knew they had another Kirchoff. I took pictures when Summer hung the first two and made a copy of their key, then when they went on vacation, I simply went in and replaced that one. The Neilson’s house was even easier. Mr. Neilson bought just that one piece, and I replaced it here. Summer unwittingly hung it. I have some pride in the fact she never noticed the forgeries, and she calls herself an artist. She even asked me about displaying some of her work.” Miriam scoffed. “As if.”

I didn’t like the fact Miriam was confessing to me as she held a gun at me. I didn’t see how this was going to end well for me.

“Miriam, what are you going to do to me?” I asked.

“Nothing permanent, as long as you cooperate. Now, I want you to walk into the workroom. There’s a closet in the back. You’re going to leave your purse on the table, along with your cellphone, and step into the closet. I’m going to lock the door and Summer will be along in the morning to let you out.”

“And where will you be?”

“Nowhere in the US. I’d planned all along to use the money to get away from my stupid husband. Not only is he a rube, someone I need to keep hidden away from respectable society, but he also has a fondness for the ponies, and no ability to pick a winner. I mean none. If someone handed him the guaranteed winner’s name, he still couldn’t win.”

I looked at the gun, and then Miriam’s googley-crazy eyes. I know when it came to the whole Mr. Banning thing, I’d fought my way out of trouble, but I hadn’t been fighting against a gun. As a matter of fact, I’d been fighting for my life. I decided that knowing who did it and how was enough.

“Fine. I’ll get in the closet.”

“Don’t try anything funny,” she warned.

I’d heard if you were being kidnapped you should humanize yourself to the kidnapper. You should make them think of you as another human being. So I tried. “I won’t try anything funny. I swear, Miriam. I have three sons. I want to go home and hug them. Well, two of them. The third’s away at college, but even if he’s a college boy, he still needs his mother, so I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

As we walked toward the backroom, the bell on the front door rang, and Miriam whirled toward it.

“You didn’t lock the door?” I yelled, terrified that whoever was coming in was going to get shot.

Cal walked through the door, and my terror escalated.

Miriam’s arm swung in his direction.

Without thinking, I tackled Miriam and a shot rang out. I didn’t have time to see where it hit because I was too busy sitting on my would-be captor, art thief, and forger.

“Cal, are you okay?” I screamed as I grabbed onto Miriam’s perfectly coiffed hair and used is at a rein. “Drop the stupid gun, Miriam.”

Her hand relaxed and she stopped struggling.

Cal raced across the room, kicked the gun to the other side of the gallery, pushed me off Miriam—none to gently I might add—and cuffed her.

“What the hell, Quince,” he bellowed as he hauled Miriam to her feet. “I stopped at your house and you weren’t there. The boys said you hadn’t been home. I called Tiny and when she told me where you were. What the.…”

I bleeped his long string of swear words out in my mind.

Have you ever heard those old off the air tones on television stations, back in the day when they actually went silent for a portion of each day? That’s what it sounded like in my head as Cal cursed and read me the riot act in very colorful terms.

Miriam stood there glaring at me, her hands cuffed behind her back.

And all I could think of was, she was going to hate that her hair was a huge mess for her police photograph session.

And I noticed that her shoes had come off in our wrestling match.

She seemed much smaller without them.

“Are you done?” I asked Cal when he stopped for a breath.

“No.”

He hauled me into his arms and kissed me. “You have to stop this crap, Quince. You’re killing me. I’m too old to worry like this. I’m going to develop high blood pressure and give myself a stroke.”

“I didn’t come here thinking it was her. I came to talk to Summer.”

“Where is this Summer?” Cal barked. “Is she okay?”

“She left. I was just leaving when Miriam pointed that gun at me and told me to climb into the closet.”

I realized how close I’d come to being locked in a closet all night…or worse. I shivered uncontrollably.

Cal wrapped me in his arms and called for a car to come pick up Miriam.

This time, I had to go along with him to the station. There was no pleasant sniping at each other at Pattycake’s Pancake House. He didn’t ask if he could come into my house and interview me.

I think he was pissed.

I asked if I should call my lawyer.

He just growled.

Things got even worse when Mickey Roman arrived.

“I want her arrested,” he said. “We’re filing charges. Obstruction and…I’m not sure what else, but I’ll think of something.”

“Call Sal,” I said to Cal. I almost said
call Sal, Cal
, but I stopped myself. I realized that people couldn’t help rhyming names, but I wasn’t going to play into it.

“You don’t need Sal, I’ll talk to Mickey,” he said.

Mickey shot me a look that was even more hate-filled than Miriam’s.

Note to people in my life, don’t annoy me when the adrenaline is pumping. I said, “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Mick.”

Now, when Cal growls at me, it’s kind of endearing.

Endearing
is not the word I’d use to describe the sound Mickey made as Cal let him out of the office.

I picked up the phone and called Tiny. “I did it again,” I said.

“Did what?”

“Solved a case. I’m at the police department and that stupid Detective Roman wants to press charges. Do you think Sal could come over and sit with me, just in case I need legal representation?”

Tiny swore, but it was just a small swear word, then she said, “He’s right here, and we’re both on our way. If you end up in jail for my wedding—”

I thought she was going to say something about never forgiving me, but instead, she said, “I’ll be getting married at the clink. I can’t imagine what kind of pictures we’ll have.”

She hung up.

I called the boys and told them to order pizza. I’d be home soon.

I hoped I wasn’t lying.

I had no idea how I’d solved this case, not that I would ever admit that in a public place. I realized that there was going to be one person who would be overjoyed by the news. And since everyone else was swearing at me, I called Dick, sure that at least he would be happy. “I solved the case and caught the thief,” I said.

As if on cue, Dick gave a lovely squeal of delight. “We’re going to be beating people off with a stick.
Steamed
is going to be such a hit—”

“I’ve got to go,” I said and hung up as the door opened.

“Tiny and Sal are on their way, just in case you couldn’t talk Mickey down.”

“I managed it,” Cal said. “But barely.”

“I’m sorry,” I told him.

“Sorry for what?”

“Well, not for figuring out who did it. I won’t apologize for that, so don’t hold your breath. But I am sorry you almost got shot. I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid as the moment you walked in the door and Miriam pointed the gun at you. It was like everything went in slow motion. I saw her finger start to squeeze and I knew that if she killed you I wouldn’t survive it. So I tackled her.”

He sat on the chair and pulled me onto his lap. “And that’s how I’ve felt twice. If there’s a next time and you think you’ve figured out whodunit it, call me first, okay?”

“I promise.”

He hugged me and kissed me long and hard.

I was pretty sure he was still pissed, but I was also equally sure I was forgiven.

“Listen, the other day—it feels like years ago, but it really was just the other day—when I said
it’s one of the things I love about you
? Then we both got quiet and awkward and…”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Listen, I meant it. I meant more than
one of the things I love about you
. I meant, I love you, Quincy Mac. When I said it, you got that trapped in the headlight kind of look, and I backtracked, but if you’re going to run around LA trying to get yourself killed on a regular basis, then I’m damned well not going to wait or pussyfoot around the issue. I love you. It’s probably too soon. You drive me absolutely crazy and I keep having to rush in and save you from getting yourself killed—”

Now most women wouldn’t interrupt a man when he was describing his love, but I took exception at that last line. “Uh, I feel I should point out that technically, I saved myself the first time, and I saved you this time.”

He made a strangled noise. “Don’t argue with me. You don’t have to say anything back, you just have to know before you run out and almost get yourself killed again that I love you.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Well, I love you, too.” I’ll confess, it didn’t have the most romantic tone to it. It had the same sort of sound the boys used to have when they said
so-there
.

But I did love him, too…too soon or not. I loved him despite the fact he kept getting in the way of my perfectly good investigations.

Yeah, I loved him.

After catching the thief and having Cal say he loved me, things got really crazy.

The boys left for Hunter’s. I didn’t have time to relish or hate the quiet house. We all had our dinner on Friday night. I felt all warm and glowy sitting next to Cal as I watched Tiny and Sal together, and Julian and Cassandra.

Cassandra and Julian seemed to hit it off. I might have a future as a matchmaker if my cleaning business went under—which it wouldn’t now, since not only were we in the clear about the thefts, but the newspaper wrote another glowing article about LA’s own
Maid of Mystery
. Yep, that’s me. There was a quote, “LA’s premier cleaning service, Mac’Cleaners, shows they’ll clean up just about any mess for their clients.”

We were thinking about using that as a new ad.

I had my critique meeting with Dick on Saturday. He was over the moon about the article.

“You’ve done it,” he said. “I’ve had a number of
people
—” he said
people
in such a way that you knew he meant big, important Hollywood people “—approach me about the script. They’ve heard I’m working with you. Of course, I told them it’s brilliant. And it is brilliant like a diamond that hasn’t be cut or polished yet. So let’s get cutting and polishing.”

He told me he wanted it done by November. I felt like I was back in school with a huge term paper’s deadline hanging over my head.

By Monday Tiny and I tabled all thoughts of a new ad…our phone was ringing off the hook. The newspaper article was advertisement enough.

Later that day, Cal called to tell me that Miriam had confessed to everything. She’d worked a deal for lesser charges if she gave up her art fence. Cal said she was singing like a caged bird.

I think my favorite part of the week was that evening when I met Mr. Neilson. He was a sweet, pot-bellied man who could play Santa if he grew out a beard. I took him over to Summer’s studio and he didn’t just buy one painting for Mrs. Santa, he bought two. And then he told Summer he’d be back to do some Christmas shopping with her.

When he’d left, paintings in hand, Summer told me, “I’m taking over the gallery now that Miriam’s out of the picture. They need someone who knows art, and I do.”

“But you won’t stop your own work?” I asked.

“I won’t, I promise. You and Mr. Neilson gave me the boost in confidence I needed.”

“Any time you need a boost, or a kick in your butt, just call.”

I take that back, my favorite part of the week was Wednesday, when Theresa stormed into my office.

“That’s it. If you make me go back there, I’m going to have to quit.”

I didn’t need to ask where
there
was. “I hear this was Rob’s bedroom week.”

“I needed more than the three hours he was allotted in order to really get that room habitable. Seriously, Quincy, I’ll be doing wash the next four or five visits. He doesn’t wash his clothes. He buys new. The man had piles and piles of dirty clothes…practically
new
dirty clothes. Who lives like that?”

She went from quitting to her next four or five visits. That didn’t sound like a resignation to me. Theresa might be our worst employee, but I was actually relieved she wasn’t quitting. She did keep things interesting.

“So you’re going back?” I asked, just to be sure.

Theresa sighed. “I suppose I have to. That man is hopeless. I mean utterly hopeless. He said to fill out the client form for him. When he’s done working for us and getting our services in barter, he’ll pay for Mac’Cleaners. But only if I come over and clean.”

“It sounds as if he likes you.” Wow, first Julian and Cassandra and now maybe Theresa and Rob? Definitely I had untapped matchmaking potential.

“He likes my cleaning. Seriously, that man needs a keeper. I’m going to throw a vegetable lasagna in the oven next time while I do laundry and clean.…”

She left the word hang as she gave a delicate shudder.

“Clean? What’s on the agenda next week?” I prompted.

“The bathroom. Quincy, I peeked in, just so I would be able to steel myself for the task.”

“Bad?”

She shuddered again. “Worse. Worse than the kitchen or the bedroom.”

“Oh.” I tried to sound sympathetic, but wasn’t sure I managed it.

Theresa didn’t notice my lack of sincerity. “Yeah,
oh
.”

“Sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t.

“No you’re not,” Theresa said, obviously able to read my lie this time.

“No, I’m not.” I laughed.

“Well, I’m not quitting.”

“Good,” I said and meant it. “You’re a valued member of the team.”

“I’m not, but I’m getting better.” She turned to leave, then stopped and turned back. “Quincy, I’m so sorry that ripping that painting started all of this. If you’d been hurt when you caught that whack-a-doodle…” She let the sentence hang.

“But I wasn’t. And Mac’Cleaners has so many new clients we’ve had to start a waiting list while we train some new staff. It all worked out.”

“Well, I’m glad, but I’m still sorry. I’ll try to do better.”

“I know you will.”

But I take that back. It was one of my favorite moments of the week, but my favorite moment was actually more than a moment, but rather a day and a half. It started Friday night when Tiny came to spend the night at my house so she didn’t sleep in the same house as her fiancé the day before the wedding.

When the boys heard Tiny was coming, they stayed at their dad’s an extra night and Peri said she’d bring them to the wedding with her the next day.

Tiny and I got into our pajamas by six, then sat on my couch with a half gallon of pralines and cream ice cream covered in a can of whipped cream. We watched horribly sappy chick flicks.

As we watched
Fried Green Tomatoes
, we both agreed we had a Ruth and Idgie sort of relationship, the kind of friendship that transcended relationships with men, and made us true soul sisters.

It was about that point we both had a little meltdown.

I think it had more to do with the bottle of wine we split than the ice cream or movie. But maybe it was due to the fact my best friend was marrying the perfect guy for her.

The next morning, Tiny’s family joined us at my house.

Her mother was Jamaican and had the most wonderful accent ever. And her sisters and cousins oohed and aahed as we all helped Tiny dress.

No one but Tiny oohed and aahed about my pumpkin colored maid of honor dress, but that was okay, because Tiny was the one that mattered today.

And then…well, and then we were at the wedding…Tiny’s wedding.

I was getting all misty and couldn’t blame the wine this time.

“I love you, Ruth,” I whispered in Tiny’s ear before we walked down the aisle.

“Love you, too, Idgie,” she said. I guess we both took it for granted that I was the Idgie in our relationship.

Just before I started to walk down the aisle in my horrible pumpkin color dress, Tiny said, “I’ll be thinking about your naked butt walking in front of me.”

Which is why I was laughing as I started that long walk down the aisle. I saw Sal looking for Tiny. I might have been invisible because he only had eyes for her. And those eyes were full of so much love that my laughter died and I got misty again.

I reached the minister and turned as the rest of guests stood. We all watched Tiny walk down the aisle. In her eyes, I saw the same thing that had been in Sal’s…love.

True love.

As I listened to the minister talk about vows of love and commitment, I glanced out at the people who were gathered to witness the ceremony. Hunter had come home for the wedding and was sitting with Peri and his brothers. Jerome hadn’t come, which was just as well. Tiny loved Peri (no one could meet her and not love her) but still despised Jerome on the general principal of things.

Everyone from Mac’Cleaners was there. And Theresa was sitting with a man.
Rob
, she mouthed and pointed. I’d pictured a disheveled, computer nerd, but he was a handsome blond guy who was anything but disheveled. He had GQ sort of looks.

Then I saw Cal.

And I melted a little as he smiled at me and mouthed the words,
I love you
.

My head said it was way too soon, but my heart? Well, it wasn’t listening to a word my head said.

I forced myself to stop staring at him and turn back to Tiny and Sal.

“You are the other half of myself,” Tiny told Sal. “The moment I saw you, I knew that I’d been searching for you all my life. I’m so glad I found you and that I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Sal took her hand. “Asking you out that first time was the bravest thing I ever did. I never thought you’d say yes. I’ve always known you were out of my league, but you’ve never seemed to notice. I hope that you never do, because Tiny, I’d be lost without you. You are…” he paused, as if he’d forgotten his vow, and then finally said, “You’re my everything.”

I don’t think there was a dry eye as they hugged, then kissed.

The reception was laid back and just a good time. I sat at a big table with the boys, Peri and of course, Cal. We all turned to watch as Sal led Tiny out to the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife. I was waiting for something sappy, but the DJ said, “I’d like to introduce, Mr. and Mrs. Salvador Mardones.” The walked to the middle of the dance floor and The Beach Boys’ Wouldn’t It Be Nice started to play as they did a well-rehearsed dance that included steps that looked like they were swimming, and one where the two of them appeared to be surfing. It was so awful that it was good.

When they finished, Tiny took the mic from the DJ and said, “Most of you know my maid of honor, LA’s own mystery solving maid, Quincy Mac. Quincy, bring Cal out to the dance floor. We’ve got a song just for you.”

She looked way too pleased with herself. More pleased than she looked when she saw me in my pumpkin colored dress.

Theresa was chuckling, which made me think that Tiny had floated the idea of this song around the office.

“This might not be pretty,” I whispered to Cal.

We reached the dance floor and Tiny grinned as she nodded at the DJ.

Queen’s
Another One Bites the Dust
blared over the speakers. Both Cal and I joined the rest of the guests in laughing as we did a dance that made Sal and Tiny’s look good. After the first chorus, she invited everyone to join us on the dance floor and Cal swept me into his arms.

“I mentioned our dinner with Cassandra and Julian to Big G. He wants to know when you’re going to set him up.”

“When I find a woman I think would suit him, I will.”

“What are you doing after the wedding?”

“The boys are going home for one more night at their dad’s.”

“So you’ll be alone in that big house?”

“Not if you play your cards right,” I said with a smile.