Clutches and Curses (29 page)

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Authors: Dorothy Howell

BOOK: Clutches and Curses
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Danielle had been so cold and calculating. Stealing Courtney's work, lying to cover up everything, murdering two people, then cashing in on the sale.
But maybe I shouldn't have been surprised. Detective Shuman had told me Danielle had been raised in foster homes. She'd been picked up for shoplifting as a teenager. No emotional grounding. Stealing in order to have the things she wanted. I guess this wasn't such a big leap after all, especially with a hundred grand at stake.
“Why did you have to murder Courtney?” I asked. “She could have designed more collections, kept your business going for years.”
Danielle huffed irritably. “I got her out of Los Angeles, up here, away from people she knew, where I could control things better. She was so weak-minded. But she
refused
to design anything else. She insisted it was her
signature.
Stained glass, stained glass,
stained glass
.”
“I'm going to call the cops,” I said, “and turn you in.”
She shrugged indifferently. “Call whoever you want. I'll be long gone before they get here.”
Danielle let out a scream, then charged me, hitting me in the chest with her shoulder and knocking me backwards. I went down hard on the floor and saw her running through the foyer. I scrambled to my feet and went after her.
“Help!” Danielle screamed. She stopped in front of the security guard at the ballroom entrance. “Help! She's trying to kill me!”
The security guard whipped around. Danielle took off running again. I continued after her, did a little sidestep to avoid the guard—but he matched me move for move. He grabbed me around the waist and yanked me off my feet.
I kicked hard and made contact with something. He loosened his grip. I slithered away. The guard caught my arm. Something ripped. I pulled free and charged after Danielle.
She had on pumps and a dress, I wore Sketchers and pants but, damn, she could run. I followed her out of the foyer, then saw her jump onto the down escalator. It was packed with women. She bumped them aside as she made her way down.
“Official handbag business!” I shouted as I squeezed my way through the crowd of women.
Ahead of me, Danielle reached the lower floor and sprinted off to her right. I made it off the escalator a few seconds later and followed.
Around the corner in an open area, I saw Danielle stop. I looked past her and saw Detective Webster confronting her, with Detective Dailey not far behind.
I stopped, ready to cut her off if she ran my way. The security guard appeared next to me and wrapped his meaty hand around my upper arm.
Danielle looked at me and the guard, then at the two detectives. She must have recognized them from their interview after Courtney's murder.
“Detective Dailey,” she called, pointing at me. “This is all her fault. None of this would have happened, if not for her.”
The two homicide detectives surrounded Danielle, their gazes bouncing from her to me.
I pulled my arm away from the security guard and jogged closer. Her eyes were wide, half crazed.
“Tell them why it's my fault,” I said to Danielle.
“Because she came here,” she exclaimed. She faced the detectives, gesturing wildly at me. “If she hadn't come here, there would have been no one to take the blame for Courtney's death. I could have let her live.”
“She killed Rosalyn Chase, too,” I said to the detectives.
“What else could I do? I had no other choice.” Danielle exclaimed. She flung her hand toward me. “Arrest her!”
Neither of the detectives made a move toward me, so I figured they were satisfied with her confession.
“I guess that settles things,” I said to Detective Dailey. “I'm out of here.”
“Not so fast,” he said. “We're not finished with you.”
C
HAPTER
29
T
he employee locker room at the Mandalay Bay was nicer than you'd think. I, for one, was particularly glad to be in it after spending a couple of hours in the security office.
Detectives Dailey and Webster had been there, along with hotel personnel, asking me questions, wanting me to repeat my story over and over again. I wasn't sure who'd called them, but I figured it must have been Jack Bishop, or maybe Mike Ivan.
The detectives seemed okay with the motive for Courtney's murder being a disagreement over a fashion accessory line. Greed was hardly breaking news for law enforcement. They had considerable trouble, though, grasping the concept of just how a fashion accessory line had led me to solve the murders.
Jeez, what's with men sometimes?
When I'd finally gotten them to pull up the Monroe High School Web site and check out the archives, they'd spotted Courtney's stained-glass pattern right away and matched it with the accessories they'd brought from Danielle's booth in the vendor room.
Detective Dailey had also admitted they'd lifted a partial fingerprint from inside Rosalyn Chase's house. In itself, not enough to positively I.D. Danielle as the killer, but enough to add to the mounting evidence against her.
By then I'd had all I was going to take and told them I was leaving. No one stopped me. No one thanked me, either. I didn't care. I was just glad to be out of there.
Maybe I didn't deserve their thanks. I'd been wrong about Valerie Wagner. Guess she'd really just gone to Reno to see her sister, after all.
That made me think of Robbie Freedman. He'd really come all the way to Vegas, made that long, hot trip just to see the place where Courtney had died. That probably meant he'd really cared for her a lot back in high school. And that he hadn't cared for me at all.
Not a great feeling.
No way could I go back to working the handbag convention now, I decided, as I pulled off the pale blue shirt Arlene had given me to wear. It was dirty and the sleeve was ripped, thanks to the wrestling match I'd had with the security guard.
I pulled the red top I'd worn this morning out of the locker I'd been assigned for the day, put it on, and grabbed my purse—a super little Chloe tote. I took a few more minutes to brush my hair and touch up my makeup, then I dropped the blue shirt into the trash can as I walked out the door. Arlene could just take it out of my pay.
I was tired, a little sore, and still had to explain everything to Jack Bishop. He'd gotten here about the time I went into the security office. I'd told him what happened and he'd promised to wait. He'd want a full story of what had happened.
Oh, crap. Ty.
I stopped and rolled my eyes at nobody. Jeez, I'd completely forgotten about Ty. Again. I hadn't called him or anything.
Of course, he probably didn't even know anything had happened. I imagined he was in the hospitality suite talking over a business deal, waiting for the afternoon reception to begin.
I glanced at my wristwatch. Nearly noon. Maybe I could catch up with him and spend a few minutes before he—
Hang on a second. The raffle would take place in a few minutes.
My spirits lifted considerably. If I won one of the Judith Leiber bags, or the Delicious, it would prove my luck had changed—and I wouldn't have to perform a selfless act. All I had to do was—
Oh my God! The tickets!
I rushed back into the locker room, snatched the shirt out of the trash can, and whipped the tickets out of the pocket. Whew! Thank goodness.
By the time I made it into the vendor room, the crowd around the raffle booth was packed almost twenty deep. I wedged my way into the group, getting as close to the booth as I could.
A woman with bright red hair stood on a little platform with a microphone, ready to pull a ticket stub from the metal hopper. She had on white pants so tight she must have been beamed into them, and would likely need the Jaws of Life to get out of them.
“Okay, ladies, are we ready?” she called.
A cheer went up.
I looked at Maya's and my tickets. I repeated the numbers over and over in my mind, throwing good thoughts out there—I figured it couldn't hurt—emphasizing my lucky number, twelve.
She spun the hopper, opened the cage, and pulled out a winning ticket. She hesitated a moment—which made me want to go up there and strangle her—and called out the number.
A scream rang out on the other side of the room. A nearly hysterical woman pushed her way to the booth and was awarded one of the Delicious handbags.
Yeah, okay, one of them was gone, but that didn't mean I couldn't win the next one. Or one of the Judith Leiber bags.
Jeez, I really wished I'd thought up a selfless act before the raffle started.
“Here we go again!” the redhead declared. She cranked the hopper, pulled out another winning ticket, and read off the number.
Wasn't solving a murder considered a selfless act? I wondered. I mean, jeez, it's not like I got anything out of it.
Oh, yeah, wait. I wasn't a murder suspect anymore.
Crap.
“Okay, ladies, one of you has this number!” the redhead announced. “Who's got it?”
The woman next to me punched me in the side and said, “That's your number! You won!”
What?
What?
“Read it again!” somebody shouted.
She read the number off once more and, suddenly, a light shone down from above, I got dizzy, angels began to sing. I swear. My lucky number twelve had come through for me!
“I won! I won! I won!” I screamed, jumping up and down, waving my ticket in the air.
The crowd cheered as I waded through the mass of people to the booth. My head spun and my knees wobbled as one of the assistants opened the case and removed one of the Judith Leiber bags.
Oh my God. I'd won a Judith Leiber.
She wrapped it carefully, placed it in a carrier bag, then presented it to me.
My spirits soared. This was fabulous, tremendous, stupendous, and way cool. I couldn't wait to tell Marcie—and Maya.
I clutched the bag to my chest, ready to fight to the death if anyone tried to take it from me, and left. I stopped at the door and listened to the other two winning ticket numbers that were drawn—just in case—but no such luck.
I couldn't complain. Wow, my luck had changed. And I hadn't even done anything selfless.
That Madam CeeCee. What kind of psychic was she, anyway? Maybe I should call and tell her that her curse-breaking advice was jacked up.
I expected to find Maya at the registration desk. Instead, I saw Jack. He spotted me and walked over.
“You okay?” he asked.
Jack had sort of a biker thing going today—which looked really hot, of course. Jeans, black T-shirt, boots. I figured he wanted to know everything that went down with the detectives and Danielle's arrest, but first things first.
“I'm fabulous—beyond fabulous,” I told him, clutching the carrier bag to my chest. “Where's Maya?”
“Taking somebody to one of the exhibits.” He nodded down the hallway, and shook his head. “She works hard. Too hard for what she gets out of it.”
His tone made me wonder if something else was going on.
“What are you doing back in Vegas?” I asked.
“I heard about Maya getting fired by that ass, Bradley,” Jack said. His expression darkened. “So I drove up here to kick his butt.”
My spirits lifted a little more. “Cool.”
“Not so much,” Jack said. “He wasn't there. Doesn't work there anymore. Left the state, apparently.”
Up went my spirits even further. So Helen Pennington had removed her little darling from the Culver Inn, as she'd promised. Not a bad compromise, considering what I'd agreed to keep quiet about.
Jack's frown deepened. “That wouldn't have gotten her the tuition money she needs—but it sure as hell would have made me feel better.”
Despite the old Disney movies, most women didn't really want to be rescued. They just wanted a man who'd stand up and do the right thing—but it was still nice to know a guy who'd kick somebody's butt for you.
“Haley, are you okay?” Maya asked, joining us at the registration desk. She looked at my shirt. “Aren't you going to finish out the day? What about tomorrow?”
I figured Jack might have told her about the whole Danielle-Courtney-murder thing that had just gone down. Or maybe not. Either way, I didn't want to get into it.
“I'm not feeling all that great,” I said, hoping she'd let it drop so I could show her the fabulous Judith Leiber bag I'd just won.
“Do you need a doctor?” Maya asked. “I know a free clinic you can use. They're really nice there, and the wait isn't usually more than a few hours.”
“It's nothing serious,” I told her.
“Are you sure you can't work?” she asked. “You're going to miss out on a lot of money. Nearly a hundred dollars.”
She was concerned I'd lose a hundred bucks, and here I stood with a purse in a carrier bag worth thousands.
“I'll be okay,” I said, which wasn't really true, but I sure as heck wouldn't admit to it in front of Jack.
“I'll explain things to Arlene,” Maya said. “I'll make sure she understands so you can work for her again.”
Wow, was that a BFF thing to do, or what?
“Did you buy something?” Maya asked, pointing to the bag.
I squeezed the Judith Leiber purse a little closer, held it against my heart for a few seconds. I knew I had to do the right thing.
I hate it when I have to do the right thing.
“It's from the raffle,” I said, and held out the carrier bag. “You won!”
Her mouth fell open. Her eyes bulged. She looked at me, then at the carrier bag, then at Jack, then back to me again.
“I . . . I won?” she whispered, as if she were afraid to say it aloud.
“You bet,” I said. “It's one of the Judith Leiber bags.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God!
Oh my God!
”
Maya grabbed the bag and clutched it with both hands. I couldn't help smiling. Neither could Jack.
Her eyes widened. “I'm going to sell it.”
“What?
” I gasped. “This is a
Judith Leiber
. A special edition. One of a kind.”
“I'm going to sell it to one of those people on the message board who wanted it,” Maya said. “And then I can pay my tuition and I can buy my books for next semester. I can give some to Mom so my brothers can go to camp this summer. And I'll even have some left over that I can save to start my bakery.”
I guess I couldn't argue with that.
“You should contact the Culver Inn and see about getting your catering job again,” I said. “I've got a really good feeling they'll hire you back, plus have you cater for the whole chain.”
“Do you think so? Oh, wow, that would be so cool!” Maya said. “I've got to check out the message board.”
“I'll go with you,” Jack said, and grinned. “In case you need backup.”
They walked away and I saw them smiling and talking. Nice.
Ty flew into my thoughts and I wished he were here with me right now being my backup. But he wasn't. He was off somewhere taking care of yet another business matter, something that was—as usual—more important to him than me.
Call me crazy, but I wanted a boyfriend I could count on to be around.
Of course, a beach house and a convertible would be nice, too. So would enough money to pay my bills.
Then I saw Ty striding through the foyer toward me. Tall, handsome. My heart fluttered a little at the sight of him.
His killer grin grew into a killer smile as he stopped in front of me and presented me with a flowery gift bag.
“For you,” he declared.
I dug through the white tissue paper and pulled out a Delicious handbag. I gasped so hard I lost my breath for a second.
“Oh my God!” I launched myself into his arms. He held me tight, then looked down and we kissed. One of those long, warm kisses.
“I can't believe you found this,” I told him. “How did you manage it?”
He just gave me a knowing grin and said, “Look inside.”
Oh my God. The lining. Everybody—well, women—knew that the lining of a purse was crucial to the success of the bag. How did Ty know that?

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