“Wow, I’d say that’s great news,” Gracie said, cookie batter completely forgotten.
“There’s just one little fly in the ointment, so to speak,” Mason said. “We’re having a hard time locating Rob Williams.”
Gracie gulped. What was he talking about?
“We don’t want to tip him off by going to his office or home,” Mason was saying. “He’s got access to lots of money so we don’t want him having advance warning. When we swoop in to pick him up, we want it to be a complete surprise. You do understand what I’m saying, right?”
“Of course. No one among my family or friends wants to see this guy get away with it.”
“We’re monitoring his personal credit cards but there is no unusual activity. I wish I had the manpower to park someone outside his house and his office 24-7, but I just don’t.”
“What are you saying?”
“Random calls to both locations and he’s never there. This has been going on for two days, and wouldn’t you know, it’s right when we were getting close to having a warrant issued for his arrest.”
“Doesn’t anyone answer at the office?”
“A receptionist who sounds about eighteen and just says she’d be happy to take a message. She won’t say where he is or when he’s expected back. You understand, I can’t make too many of those calls without arousing suspicion.”
Gracie came close to telling Mason about Sandy working for Rob, about their lying to him about having the Scottsdale gala all arranged. But since they’d not shared the information with the police right from the beginning, it could get tricky. Plus, of what relevance was it, really? She was fairly certain Sandy was still in daily contact with Rob and that he was calling from his California office.
“Okay, thanks, detective. It’s great news that you’ve found enough witnesses to build the case against him. And I will definitely let you know if I hear of anything new.” She hoped her voice didn’t betray the deception. Cops could have uncanny instincts about that sort of thing.
The moment the detective hung up, Gracie dialed Sandy’s number.
“The California cops say Rob Williams has disappeared,” she blurted. “You’re still talking with him every day or so, aren’t you?”
There was a blank silent space before Sandy sputtered. “Yeah. I just spoke with him an hour ago. Well—backtrack that—I had a text from him and I responded and he answered back. We’re definitely in touch.”
“They’re ready to issue an arrest warrant and they’ve been watching his house and office, calling both places. They haven’t been able to spot him in several days. What are we going to do? If this falls through and my mom doesn’t get her money back …”
“Take a breath, Gracie.” Sandy’s voice stayed low and calm. “I’m actually at the bank right now. Hang on …” There was the sound of a door closing. “Okay, let me think a minute.”
She was being literal, Gracie realized. A long silence with only the sound of computer keys tapping, then Sandy spoke again.
“I’ve just emailed Amber and asked her if she knows any other way to track him down. I guess I’m a little worried what will happen if he’s headed out here and starts looking for me. He could discover that the venue was never booked … that I’m not working from home … Our idea that he would be in police custody before he ever showed up here in his tuxedo could come crashing down on us. He absolutely cannot find out about our sham working relationship until the police are ready to act.”
“And that’s just it—they are ready to act. Where’s Rob?”
“Hold on a sec … a reply from Amber. She asks ‘have you thought about the villa?’ I don’t know—have we?”
“She thinks Rob may have taken off for the villa in France? Really? This close to his big event out here?” Gracie was trying to wrap her mind around the implications.
Sandy went quiet again for a moment. “I suppose … I mean, I’ve convinced him I’m working for his company. He could easily convince me he’s still in California, as long as he doesn’t slip up and mention the wrong time zone or something.”
“Oh, god.” Gracie was leaning against her kitchen counter, resting her head on her left palm. “We’re going to have to admit to the cops that you’ve been working for Rob. We never told them.”
“It wouldn’t be the end of the world, although it really could complicate things,” Sandy said.
“What if they got an anonymous tip to check Rob’s passport for any recent foreign travel? That would send them off in the right direction without our having to say anything.”
“Good. And meanwhile, I’ll get Amber on the trail to see if she can figure out where this villa is, exactly, and whether that’s really where he went. And I’ll put the word out to Pen and Mary that we should all get together tonight.”
Gracie hung up and took a deep breath. Mason would surely recognize her voice since they’d just spoken a few minutes ago. She needed an anonymous tipster.
The little prayer was answered five minutes later when her teenage son waltzed into the kitchen and stuck his finger into the chocolate chip cookie dough in the mixing bowl.
“Uh-uh,” she said. “Cookies will be ready in ten minutes. I’ll give you the first three while they’re warm and gooey if you’ll do me a favor. Grab your cell phone.”
Now, she could only hope his maturing voice wouldn’t crack during the call.
Chapter 29
Rob lounged back in his business-class seat, legs up, a movie playing on the screen in front of him, but his mind wasn’t on the film. After checking text messages from Sandy at the airport, he’d spent the first two hours of his flight working out the details for the villa.
At first, he’d thought he would walk in and plunk down the whole asking price—well, wire-transfer it—it would be a grand gesture to impress the French realtor. But he didn’t have it all, not until after Scottsdale, and it would look really half-assed to say, ‘I can only pay you three-quarters of it now.’ That wouldn’t do.
So he would give the minimum down payment. He had that much in good old American cash in the briefcase below his feet. On Tuesday he would fly back, prepare for the Scottsdale event Friday night, rake in the dough, and be on his way back to France by early next week.
It would be the first time he’d held one of his gala events so close to the holidays, but it made a lot of sense. People were in a giving mood this time of year; those who weren’t philanthropic would be after the tax breaks. Investments made before the end of the year could be classified in a bunch of ways to save taxes—at least he thought they could.
He practically salivated at the idea of all that cash going into his account, then getting transferred to the hidden ones in other countries. He was so busy dreaming he almost didn’t hear the flight attendant ask if she might refresh his drink.
“Sure, another Glenlivet,” he said.
Something about the woman sparked a memory; a tall, classy blonde in her fifties—no, the other one was maybe ten years older. Yes, the novelist, the one whose payment never showed up. It had slipped his mind, with all the Abby drama and the Scottsdale plans. Another thing to add to his agenda while in France. Or maybe he’d dash off a quick message to Sandy and have her handle it. It wasn’t one of his bigger proceeds, but every little bit helped. He’d already visually formed a picture of new furniture for the villa. He would hire a chichi decorator and really do it up right.
He pulled the photo of the villa out of his wallet. Silly, maybe, keeping the picture to himself, his little secret. At one time, he’d printed a larger full-sheet version of it, intending to stick it to the bathroom mirror at home. What had ever happened to that copy?
Oh well. He admired the picture and sipped his drink. It was a long flight and he began to feel drowsy. He set the drink on the little side table, pressed the photo to his chest, and closed his eyes.
Chapter 30
The Heist Ladies met at Sandy’s house again. Gracie had put out the word, and the tone
of her panicky message brought them all within the hour.
“Detective Mason just called me. His department enlisted the cooperation of the feds. Homeland Security told him Rob Williams has left the country. He checked in on an Air France flight for Paris.”
“So, what does Mason say they’ll do about it?” Amber asked.
“Nothing. A municipal police department doesn’t have the means to extradite on this sort of case, he told me. They can barely catch murderers and drug lords. Apparently wiping out people’s life savings doesn’t qualify as important enough.” Gracie was nearly in tears. “And then he asked me if I knew anything about this. I can’t even remember what answer I gave, I was so shaken. Now he probably thinks I’ve tipped off Rob to the police investigation.”
Sandy held out a plate of cookies. Sweets could solve so many problems. “Okay, let’s take a breath and think about this. We had a feeling Rob might go to Europe. You saw the photo of that huge house, and we know he’s stockpiling money for something—it must be that.
“I’ve been in touch with him by text and email very recently, although I have to admit there were no new messages the last few hours. His being on a plane could explain that …” She picked up one of the cookies for herself. “But I do believe he’s going to be here Friday for the gala. Nothing he’s said indicates he’s suspicious about the plans.”
Was that correct? He had questioned her about the deposits that had not been charged to his card yet. She munched down the cookie and took another.
“The cop—Mason—he sounded pretty urgent about finding Rob and getting him to L.A. Apparently, the attorney general is pushing to get the case on the docket because only one judge is working through the holidays, and it’s normally a slow time of year in the court system. After the first of the year, the calendar is full and it would take much longer to resolve this thing. Now would be the ideal time to arrest Rob and get him indicted for inaccurately representing the investment and taking money under false pretenses. They can’t proceed with any of that unless they have their suspect in custody.”
“So, we go get him,” Amber said, a gleam in her eye. “We’ve dashed off to Europe on other missions. We can do this.”
“We don’t even know where in Europe this big villa is,” Sandy pointed out, “other than it’s probably somewhere in France since that’s where he went. In our business dealings, he’s talked fondly of Cannes, but I assumed it was because of the big film festival.”
Amber was tapping away at her tablet. “I’ll just go through the real estate listings …”
Pen spoke up. “I believe we can narrow this matter down to a couple of possibilities. Rob is either going to show up here in Scottsdale by the end of the week, or he’ll stay in Europe to elude the police. My vote is that he’ll come back. Greed will win out.”
“Plus, he doesn’t have any reason to believe the police are after him, does he?” Mary asked. “I think he’ll come back.”
“Oh, gosh, I had another thought,” Sandy said. Her face had gone a bit white. “What if he expects me to put on the show at the gala? Abby used to do it—get right up there on stage with him. I can’t handle that. I have horrible stage fright.”
“Sandy. Sandy—calm down,” Pen said. “Remember, there is no gala in reality. We’ve faked him out, as they say.”
Sandy grinned. “You’re right. I’m getting rattled for no reason.”
“Well, there’s still reason. He could just decide to stay in Europe and blow off everything that’s going on here,” Mary pointed out. “I think we need to discuss a plan of some sort.”
The room got quiet for a few minutes, each of the women lost in her own thoughts. Pen got up and began to pace the room.
Amber was the first to speak. “Found the villa!” She held up the image shown on her tablet. It was the same picture they’d found among Rob’s papers.
“As I see it,” Pen said, “we can’t actually let him show up, expecting all the guests to be at the gala. He’ll have to be waylaid before he can get to the resort.”
“I can handle that,” Sandy said. “I’ll offer to pick him up at the airport, and I’ll just tell him not to bother with a rental car. Then what?”
“This may sound insane, but I say we grab him and deliver him directly to the police,” Amber said.
Gracie’s eyes were wide. “What? Kidnap him?”
The word reverberated around the room.
Chapter 31
“Think about it. There are five of us and one of him,” Amber said. “And we’ve got Mary, who bench-presses, like, a ton every day.”
“Well, not quite.” But Mary grinned and flexed a muscle anyway.
Gracie looked around the room. She couldn’t picture Amber’s tiny frame able to lift anything much heavier than a laptop computer; Pen was so tall and elegant, never breaking a sweat; Sandy—ambitious and hardworking, but a bit out of shape. As for herself, sure, she wrestled her living room furniture around at times, and she’d been known to tussle with her kids quite a bit, and once in awhile she even joined Mary at the gym for aerobics classes. Still, Mary was definitely their best bet when it came to pure strength.
“So, what’s the plan?” she asked. “I don’t like heading into things without specific details.”
“I agree,” Sandy said, looking a little nervous.
Gracie pulled out her ever-present day planner and turned to a blank page at the back.
“The simplest thing,” Sandy said, “will be to grab him when he shows up here for the gala. It’s the one fixed time and place we know about on his schedule.”
“Could be a little tricky to get him into the building without his realizing the guests aren’t there and his event isn’t happening,” said Mary.
“No, no, no. This has to happen in the parking lot.” When Amber said it, they all realized she was right.
“Okay, so I’ll be in touch with him, establishing contact from the moment his plane lands. I’ll tell him everything is all set, but because we’re short on time he should meet me in the parking lot and I’ll walk him directly into the ballroom.” Sandy chewed her lower lip for a moment. “And for that to happen, I’ll need to book him on a flight that gets in at the right time for our purposes.”
“He won’t balk at that, try to argue, or worse … change his ticket?”
“I doubt it. He’s really the type that just likes to show up and be the leader. Hates the details and paperwork stuff. But I’ll keep him texting all day. That way, we’ll know where he is each step of the way.”
Pen nodded approval. “Excellent reasoning.”
“Okay, so you’ve got him in the parking lot at the Royale on the night, and then what?” Mary asked.
“We all step out, wearing ninja black, and we grab him!” Amber said with a sparkle in her eyes.
Nervous giggles all around.
“Even five of us can hardly wrestle a man to the ground in a public place without him putting up a lot of resistance, shouting, or something to draw attention. We need to incapacitate him without doing damage that the police will question when we turn him over.”
“I know a little shoulder-pinch trick,” Mary said. “It’ll bring a guy to his knees, but he’ll be back up, mad as a hornet, shortly after. I don’t see that as a way to get him all the way to the Los Angeles police.”
“What we need is …”
“A drug!” Amber said. “Anyone got Xanax or Valium? We slip it into a drink … I read where that’s the kind of drug the date-rapists use.”
Sandy’s eyes became calculating. “I meet his car at the entrance, glasses of champagne in hand, tell him we should have a little toast to the success of the evening, and a glass of champagne will take the edge off so he’s nice and relaxed for his presentation.”
“Better yet—he’ll be more likely to believe it if you pick him up at the airport in a limo with a bar in back. We can spring for the cost of a car and driver to get him out to the Royale,” Pen said.
&nbs
p; “Yes, excellent!” Gracie said, madly jotting notes.
“The limo drives the two of you to the venue, and you make certain Rob has a drink or two on the way. Before the limo can pull around to the grand front entrance, you say you’ve forgotten something in your own car and have him come around to another part of the parking lot, where the rest of us are waiting in Gracie’s minivan.” Pen was warming to the subject.
“This is the best plan yet, but won’t the limo driver want to hang around and drive us to the front anyway?” Sandy asked.
Pen thought about it for a few seconds. “Not if you’ve told him in advance that the whole thing is planned as a surprise for your friend, that his girlfriend is waiting in the other vehicle and she’s got a birthday surprise for him.”
“Wow—I see why you’re good at plotting fictional stories,” Amber said with a grin.
“By this time, Rob should be getting a little woozy, but we still need him to be on his feet until the limo driver leaves. We open the side door on the van and guide him over there …” Pen said.
“We’ll have blankets in the back,” Gracie said. “He can be nice and cozy on the floor.”
“How long does it take to drive to Los Angeles?” Mary asked. “Will he stay unconscious that long?”
“I’m adding duct tape to the list, just in case.”
“I’ll bring some snacks,” Amber said. “We’ll be driving through the night and might get hungry.”
Gracie read from her notes. “Okay, here’s the checklist: Have minivan serviced and gassed up; put blankets and duct tape in back; pick up Mary, Pen, and Amber. That’s my part. Amber brings snacks. Sandy gets the hired limo and goes to airport, brings dear old Rob to the parking lot. Does that cover it?”
Movie Mogul Mama Page 13
