Swag Bags and Swindlers (16 page)

“I'll bet she shops in Nuovo,” Sandy said. “Maybe we'll see her in there sometime.”

“That store?” Bella grumbled. “I went in there, you know, just to check it out. Those skinny-ass clerks wouldn't give me the time of day. I felt just like what's her name in that movie.”

“Julia Roberts,” Sandy, our go-to gal for celebrity trivia, said. “The movie was
Pretty Woman
.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Bella said.

Okay, that was weird. I'd gotten great service at Nuovo.

“Haley?” Jeanette called.

“I'm out of here,” Bella said, and cut into the clothing racks.

“Me, too,” Sandy said, and followed.

I was tempted to go after them, but Jeanette was closing in fast—and she was impossible to miss. Tonight she wore a neon yellow maxidress that she'd accessorized with matching costume jewelry.

I'm sure she was visible from space.

“I know you'd mentioned you were resigning,” Jeanette said, “but I'd still like you to handle our new-employee orientation.”

It hardly seemed like a good idea to let a person who'd announced their departure preside over new hires. But I was sure I could provide essential information to people coming on board. I could share my specialized knowledge—texting undetected by management personnel while crouched on the floor in front of the jeans wall in juniors; hiding out in the shoe department; the most comfy brand of bedding to rest on while in the stockroom pretending to fetch something for a customer.

“Sure,” I said.

“Wonderful,” Jeanette said. “Oh, and there's something else. I wanted you to be the first to know that the employee discount for the Nuovo stores has been increased. It's thirty percent.”

“It was increased again?” I asked.

Jeanette waited, as if she expected me to say something more. But I couldn't think for a few seconds. My brain was busy calculating the huge savings I'd get on all the fabulous handbags and clothing at Nuovo.

“Wow, that's an awesome savings,” I said.

“It is,” she agreed, then walked away.

The figures circled through my head for a while, then I pushed them out.

Nothing, not even a thirty-percent discount, would get me to keep working at Holt's.

C
HAPTER
22

“H
aley?” Priscilla called as I walked past her office door.

Here it was, first thing in the morning and Priscilla wanted something already? I'd just arrived and was on my way to the breakroom for my first cup of coffee. What the heck could be so important?

I stopped in her doorway and managed to pull off a pleasant smile, despite my serious lack of caffeine and sugar. Priscilla sat at her desk perusing shoes on the Macy's Web site.

Obviously, I'd made her job super easy by taking over Suzie's events and the duties of the facilities manager. Surely, I'd see that reflected in my job performance review.

“The pumpkin-flavored creamer you ordered for the breakroom?” Priscilla said, sparing me a quick glance as she clicked on the boots icon. “It's the wrong brand.”

“The wrong—what?”

I might have sounded kind of grumpy when I said that but, jeez, why wouldn't I?

“Reorder, will you?” Priscilla asked, her gaze glued to the image of stiletto over-the-knee boots.

“There's nothing wrong with the brand I ordered,” I told her.

“We want the employees to be happy,” she said.

What about me? I was an employee—and I definitely wasn't happy.

Then it hit me. Oh my God, could I possibly get downgraded on my job performance review because of the office lightbulbs and creamer?

I hate being the facilities manager.

“I'll handle it,” I told her, and left.

Of course, no way could I go into the breakroom now, not with all the employees in there fixing their coffee and grousing about the coffee creamer. I wasn't going to start my day getting mad-dogged by everybody.

I went to my office and closed the door, figuring I could hide out until the usual morning crowd drifted out of the breakroom, then get my coffee in peace. I wasn't up for doing any actual work yet, so when my cell phone rang I was relieved to see that it was Marcie calling.

“Too cool about the Sassies,” she said, when I answered. “We get them this weekend?”

“I have an event on Saturday night,” I said. “We'll go in the afternoon, okay?”

“You bet,” Marcie said. “Oh, and listen, sorry it took me so long to get back to you about the info you wanted on Derrick Ellery. My friend in that department was out sick.”

I'd asked Marcie to check on his bank accounts a couple of days ago. It was a huge favor, so I sure as heck wasn't going to push her for the info.

“Who is this Derrick guy, anyway?” she asked.

I thought it best not to mention that he was dead.

“Why?” I asked.

“This guy is loaded,” Marcie told me.

“How loaded?”

“Over two hundred grand,” she said.

Detective Shuman had told me that Derrick had been dating a number of women and we'd both wondered how he afforded to take them out in style. I'd never imagined he had this kind of money.

“Where did it come from?” I asked.

“Beats me,” she said. “All I can access is the balance—without attracting a lot of attention, that is. I'm still checking for more info, but I'll e-mail what I have so far. The flu bug is going through the building, so a lot of people are out sick. I'll let you know if I find anything else.”

“Thanks, Marcie. I really appreciate it.”

I ended our call, then drifted to the window and gazed at the Galleria across the street. A Starbucks would hit the spot right now, but I didn't need much of a brain boost to think of the possible ways Derrick Ellery could have come into so much money—legally, unfortunately, which probably wouldn't help find his murderer.

Obviously, Derrick hadn't earned and saved that kind of cash from his job at Hollywood Haven. He could have inherited it or sold some property. Heck, he could have won the Lottery. Maybe he'd been involved in some sort of lawsuit that he'd gotten a settlement from. Or perhaps, like Ty, his family was wealthy.

Still, if any of those things had brought Derrick so much cash, I couldn't help but wonder why he worked. Did he love it so much at Hollywood Haven he didn't want to leave?

I couldn't picture anybody loving a job that much.

Or maybe that was just me.

Other information I was hoping to uncover would come from Detective Shuman. I'd left a message on his voicemail, asking if he'd learned anything new on Derrick's murder. I hadn't heard back from him. Sure, he was probably busy trying to solve other murders, but what about the info I needed?

I was, after all,
me
.

I called him again and he answered right away.

“Morning,” he said, sounding chipper.

Obviously, there wasn't a coffee creamer crisis in the LAPD breakroom this morning.

“You sound great,” I said. “Can I attribute that happy note in your voice to your new girlfriend?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Shuman chuckled. “Yeah, definitely.”

I was glad to hear things were going well between Shuman and Brittany. Still, I needed whatever info he'd come up with.

“I hate to spoil your good mojo with a murder,” I said, “but have you heard anything new on the Derrick Ellery case?”

“The investigation is moving forward, but slowly,” Shuman said. “Nothing new has come up. Teague and Walker are still waiting on lab results, still conducting interviews.”

I'd hoped Shuman would tell me the detectives had made an arrest—especially since one of the interviews they'd been conducting had been with
me
.

“You heard there was a second murder at Hollywood Haven?” I asked. “The receptionist.”

“I heard.”

The playfulness had drained out of Shuman's voice. I didn't feel so great that I'd caused it.

I asked one more question.

“What about Kelvin Davis?”

“Nothing new on that, either,” he said.

“Okay, thanks,” I said, and decided to lighten the mood and maybe restore Shuman's good humor. “And, listen, you need to get Brittany something really nice for Christmas. I'll take you shopping.”

“No way. You'll cost me a fortune,” Shuman said, and laughed.

“She's worth it,” I told him, and ended the call.

I stood at the window gazing across the street at the Galleria, and I couldn't help but wonder how much time Shuman had spent checking for info on these two investigations. Neither case was assigned to him and he'd only been looking into them as a favor to me.

Honestly, I was okay with that. What I really hoped was that Shuman was spending his spare time with his new girlfriend, having fun and enjoying his life. He deserved it.

Of course, I still needed to find out who had killed Derrick. The gala was only a few days away—plenty of time for Mr. Stewart to cancel. No way was I letting that happen. Not when I was this close to quitting my job at Holt's.

I gathered my things and left the office.

 

“I need to see some ID,” the new receptionist at Hollywood Haven told me.

She didn't say it, actually, more like she barked it. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, because she had the nobody-messes-with-me look of a bulldog. Actually, she sort of looked like a bulldog, with a compact body, rounded shoulders, and lips that naturally turned down.

I'd already introduced myself, explained my reason for visiting, and flashed my L.A. Affairs portfolio. She'd been totally unimpressed.

Maybe I should have a badge made up, somehow.

I dug through my Tory Burch handbag and presented my driver's license. She took it, stared at it, glanced from the photo to me, then to the photo again, and finally handed it back. She seemed super cautious, which made me think she'd learned what had happened to Karen.

I guess she was concerned about being murdered on the job.

Go figure.

“Sign in,” she said, and pushed the log book at me.

I scrawled my name. She looked at my signature and, for some reason, initialed it.

“You can go in now,” she told me.

Obviously, she'd gotten her customer service skills from the TSA. But I wasn't going to let that bother me. I had a lot to do and I had to stay focused.

Yet another song I didn't recognize drifted out of the dayroom as I approached. I hoped I would find Delores, Trudy, and Shana there so I could get their list of suggestions for the gala swag bags.

Just before I turned the corner, I spotted all three of the gals exiting a room down the hall and heading my way. I guessed they were going out because they'd all glammed up. Delores had on a maxidress and a turban, while Trudy and Shana were decked out in print pants and jackets. They'd drenched themselves in jewelry and carried large tote bags.

“There she is,” Trudy said when she spotted me.

“We were just talking about you,” Shana said as they all crowded around. “We need to give you our ideas for the swag bags.”

“Great,” I said. “I need to get the bags assembled right away.”

“Listen, honey,” Delores said, “I need you to explain something to me. These Hollywood people who're coming to the gala. What's with them? They're already multimillionaires. They already have everything on the planet. You know what I mean, honey? And if there was one tiny item they didn't already own, they could certainly send one of their personal assistants out to buy it. So what's with the swag? Tell me. What's with it?”

I couldn't give her a good explanation—and I sure as heck didn't disagree.

“So, anyway,” Delores said. “You want swag? Let me tell you, we've got swag for you. Trudy, show her our list.”

I expected Trudy to pull a notepad out of her tote bag that maybe had a picture of a Rubik's Cube on the cover, but she whipped out an iPad and scrolled through several screens. I braced myself to hear their suggestions, which I was sure would include a Pet Rock, jelly bracelets, Jordache jeans, and OP T-shirts.

“First of all, a fitness smartwatch,” Trudy read from the list.

“I just got one,” Shana said. “I love it.

“Next, a Bluetooth-enabled ball cap,” Trudy said.

“It allows voice control of a paired device,” Shana explained.

“Wireless headphones that track health markers,” Trudy said.

What the heck was going on?

“Wait,” I said. “I've never heard of these things.”

“Wearable electronics are hot right now,” Shana said, “especially in emerging markets.”

“Look here, honey,” Delores said, and pointed to a tiny square gadget not much bigger than a quarter that was clipped to the pocket of her maxidress. “It's a life-logging camera. It tracks personal data generated by behavioral activities. I just got it, so I'm trying it out today.”

“This is the newest model,” Shana said. “Video and audio.”

“I'm wearing it on the red carpet Saturday night at the gala,” Delores said.

“For YouTube,” Trudy said. “I've got Facebook and Instagram, and Shana is tweeting throughout the evening.”

“Cloud service providers are driving the IT market,” Shana said. “But who cares about IT at a gala?”

“That's why we made these suggestions,” Trudy said, and gestured to her iPad. “We've got more, but you get the idea. I'll send it to you.”

“Wow, I'm impressed,” I said, because, really, I was, and I gave her my e-mail address.

“Perfect,” Trudy said, after she'd input it into her iPad.

“We've got to run,” Shana said. “We're going shopping for the gala.”

“Oh, wait. That reminds me.” I dug through my handbag and came up with the ruby and diamond earrings Emily had asked me to return. “Are these yours?”

“Oh my God!” Shana squealed. “I thought they were gone forever!”

Delores and Trudy crowded closer, all of them looking at the earrings.

“Where did you find them?” Trudy asked.

I'd promised Emily I wouldn't rat out her dad and run the risk of getting him kicked out of Hollywood Haven, but I had to give a plausible reason why I had the earrings.

“I found them outside on the grounds,” I said.

“You're kidding me. Tell me you're kidding me,” Delores declared. “They claimed they'd searched everywhere and hadn't found any of the things that had gone missing.”

“Did you find anything else?” Trudy asked.

The women seemed so relieved the earrings had been located, I didn't feel right not admitting there were other items.

“A scarf,” I said, because it was the flashiest item in the box. “Red with blue stripes. Does it belong to any of you?”

They all shook their heads.

“I'll take it to Rosalind,” I said. “She has the list of lost items. I'm sure she can find the owner.”

“You're an angel, Haley,” Delores told me. “Sent straight from heaven.”

“And this is a miracle,” Shana agreed, clutching her earrings. “I can't wait to tell everybody the good news.”

“Got to run,” Delores said to me.

They smiled and waved as they hurried away.

I stood in the hallway watching them, kind of wishing I was going too. They looked like they were having such a good time.

I knew their afternoon and evening were going to be better than mine. I was positive of it.

Because after work I was going to see Brianna King in Palmdale and find out what had gone on between her and Ty.