“I’ll get the Xanax,” Mary said. “Women at my gym have all kinds of worries—someone’s bound to have a prescription and be glad to share a couple of pills with me.”
“Check the dosage and be sure we’re not using too much or too little,” Pen suggested.
“Got it.”
“I’ll study the road map,” Gracie said, “and program my map thingy on the phone to give directions.”
Amber was busily searching something on her tablet. “Looks like anywhere from six to eight hours for the drive. If we’re arriving in L.A. in the early morning, add some time for rush hour traffic and to get all the way downtown.”
“We can take turns with the driving, and be sure to add potty breaks,” Sandy said.
“I love traveling with women—we think of everything.” Gracie grinned as she added notes to her checklist.
“What are we forgetting?” No one could think of a thing.
“Now the hard part—waiting three days.”
Chapter 32
Rob Williams stood at the top of the hill, hands casually in his pockets, surveying the beautifully landscaped slope, imagining the twenty-acre property as his. Behind him, the estate agent patiently waited. They had toured the house, from the sweeping driveway which brought visitors to an impressive nine-foot-tall glass front door, through the seven bedrooms, home movie theater, and open living spaces with windows that showcased the astounding views. The amount of light was incredible, accustomed as he was to his small California bungalow wedged among neighbors on all sides.
“Ze present owner, she is an artist. Ze house is designed for maximum showing of the paintings,” the agent had said. His grey-flecked eyebrows twitched as he extolled the features of the mansion.
It was true. One of the bedrooms with northern exposure was in use as an art studio. The rest of the home looked like a gallery, every wall hung with a modern art canvas done in colors that went with the rest of the room’s scheme. The art itself was a little beyond his scope—he liked it, but had no clue what the swirls and swipes of paint were meant to depict. He just smiled at the agent when he said that the value of the art could be negotiated into the selling price of the home, if Rob wished to keep it.
He gave a final longing stare down the slope, imagining himself on the terrace below, floating in the infinity pool, which seemed to blend right into the sea in the distance. When he turned back toward the house, the agent was talking on his mobile phone.
The man’s narrow mustache seemed stretched to the limit when he smiled at Rob.
“So, it seems you are falling in love with the property, non? Imagination shows you how it would be to live here?”
Rob rocked back on his heels, playing it cool. “Yeah. I mean, it’s a nice place. As good as some of the others I’ve looked at.”
“Ah, oui, I can see you here. Certainement.” The agent put on a small look of distress. “We have only one, how do you say?—blockade?”
“Roadblock?” Rob’s tone took a sharper turn.
“I have now received a call … My associate, another agent in my office, he tells me there is an offer for this property.” He held up his phone as proof of the call. “A lady he show the home last week, she has come to the office with a full cash offer.”
Rob’s balloon began to wilt.
“I have explain to my associate that you are here, this very minute, considering the home very seriously. He tell his client he must have the time to receive your answer.” The man dithered a little, seeming unsure. “Can you tell me, Monsieur Williams, would you be ready to make the offer to match the other? If so, I believe I can make the better deal—is that how you say it?”
“You’re saying my offer would trump the other? That I could get the house?”
His wheels began to turn. He could do this. With the money he would rake in from the investors in Scottsdale, his dream could come true.
“I’ll give two hundred thousand over the asking price, provided I can wire transfer the money on Monday.” Rob watched the agent ponder the offer. “Of course, I will give a decent amount as earnest money. In cash.”
A slight pause. “Oui—oui, I am certain my associate will accept.” The man turned away, making the call, firing away in rapid French.
Rob pretended to be nonchalant, although his insides were in a twist. From the moment he’d seen the photos, he knew this was the house for him. He casually surveyed the shrubbery and outdoor furniture, wishing he could decipher what the agent was saying, wishing he could at least gather the outcome based on the tone. But none of it made sense, including the hand gestures and shrugs, done as if the agent was standing face to face with his associate.
He strolled the length of the terrace, down the steps to the edge of the infinity pool. The view grabbed at him, making him want the place even more. Lost in his reverie, he barely heard the footsteps behind him.
“Monsieur?”
Rob jumped.
“Very good news, monsieur. Your proposal is acceptable. We shall ride to my office and draw up the agreement. You have your cash deposit with you?”
Locked up. “I’ll need to stop at my hotel. We can meet at your office in thirty minutes.”
He was practically floating on a cloud when the agent dropped him at the Radisson Bleu. With a glance at the time, he calculated this would be a good time to catch Sandy. While he entered the digits on the safe’s keypad in his room, he listened to the phone ring.
“Rob—how are things going?” She answered a little breathlessly.
“Did I catch you at a bad time? Well, anyway, just wanted to let you know I’m in Europe for a couple days, but I’ll be back in time for our event Friday night.”
“Europe? Oh my, you really do get around. Do you have your return flight booked already?”
“Yeah, but I need a slight change of plans. I was supposed to fly out of Paris tonight, but I’m delayed. Can you—?”
“Of course,” she said, smooth as glass, no hint of frustration at the whims of a boss. Not the reaction he would have gotten from Abby, for sure.
“Let me see … how are the days going to work out …?”
“What would you think of flying directly into Phoenix, rather than going back to L.A. and turning right around to come here? I don’t see why it wouldn’t work, as long as you have the clothing you would want for the gala.”
“I always pack my tux,” he said. “You never know when it’ll come in handy.”
“I’ll email your itinerary as soon as it’s set. And, Rob—have a great trip.”
He liked the new plan. It would give him an extra day in France. He’d said hello to a gorgeous woman this morning who’d been walking a tiny white dog down the street in front of his new place. Maybe he could time it so he would encounter her again, and maybe meet some other neighbors, just let them know an important man from Hollywood was moving in next door. He pulled the briefcase full of cash from the safe, checked his reflection in the mirror, and headed for his rental car and the real estate office.
Two hours later, he walked out with a signed purchase agreement in hand. The one clause that left him a little uneasy was the absolute requirement that the balance be wired no later than midnight Monday. His earnest money would be forfeited and the other buyer would swoop in if he failed to comply. He was cutting things close but, god, he wanted that house.
He was eyeing a small bistro across the street, thinking of a light dinner and a good bottle of wine, when he received the text from Sandy.
Only Air France flight on Friday arrives PHX at 5 p.m. Will have limo waiting at the curb. Suggest you change into tux on the plane or airport to save time. Need to be ready to walk into the ballroom at 7. Full itinerary attached.
He beamed. Loved how efficient and organized this new assistant was, not wasting his time flying all over the place. She was definitely a keeper.
Chapter 33
The limo rolled to a stop at the south curb at Sky Harbor, and there was Rob, wearing h
is tux. Sandy permitted herself a satisfied little grin when she saw how well he’d followed her instructions. She handed him the drink she’d already prepared while the driver stowed his luggage in the trunk.
The rest of the capture took place without a hitch, right up to the moment Rob spotted Pen standing at the back of the minivan as the limo drove away. A vague flicker of recognition crossed his face. He started to say something, but at that moment his knees buckled.
Sandy and Gracie dashed forward to drape his arms over their shoulders, and Mary took his feet. There were a couple minutes of awkward wrestling to get his limp body into the van.
“Hurry!” Pen whispered. “Someone’s coming!”
The other car turned, one row south of them, apparently cruising for a parking space.
Mary swung Rob’s legs into the van.
“He saw me,” Pen fretted. “Do you think he’ll remember?”
They could hear the sound of duct tape being pulled from the roll, as Mary neatly trussed their victim’s wrists and ankles. “I’m not going to do his mouth unless he starts making noise, but I think it’ll be good to blindfold him.”
Sandy was climbing out, brushing lint off her black palazzo pants. Her gold-spangled top was slightly askew. “He’s really out of it. I doubt he’ll remember much of anything after getting in the limo at the airport.” She looked down at her outfit. “I need to change into something more practical for the drive.”
“Um, we were talking about that,” Gracie said. “Wouldn’t it be better if Rob isn’t aware that you’re in on this plot?”
Pen nodded. “Right. If, for some reason, the police don’t take immediate charge of him, it would be smart of us to keep someone as an insider in Rob’s office.”
Sandy seemed a bit deflated. After all, she’d played the key role in getting him to this point, but she agreed. Rob’s trust in giving her access to his business might still be needed. She acquiesced.
Pen peered into the van where Mary and Amber were sitting watch over the inert man. They gave two thumbs-up.
“Okay, then.” Gracie closed the van door. “We’ll be in touch along the route.”
Pen and Sandy watched the van pull out of the parking lot.
* * *
The sun was rising behind them as the van reached the outskirts of Indio, and the fairly open stretch of Interstate 10 began to fill with early morning traffic. Mary was at the wheel now and she competently navigated the way into the downtown maze. It took longer than any of them had imagined, but she managed to get them to the police station as the morning shift was settling in. A call up to Roy Mason’s desk brought him out to the main entrance.
Rob had slept through the long ride, apparently lulled by the van’s motion and the soft music Gracie played on the radio. He woke to the sound of duct tape being peeled from his ankles and, a minute later, being stripped from his wrists.
“What’s going on?” he mumbled. “Where am I?”
Detective Mason approached the van just then, greeting Mary and Gracie with surprise. “Ladies?”
“We told you we’d find him,” Gracie said. She clicked the control on her key fob and the van’s side door slid open.
He recognized Williams immediately. “We thought he was in Europe. How did you—? And what’s with the tuxedo?”
Gracie gave an enigmatic smile. “We just need you to take it from here.”
Mary and Amber teamed up to give Rob a push out the door. He stumbled to his feet, blinking in the sunlight and rubbing his wrists. “What happened?”
Mason stepped forward and pulled handcuffs from his belt. “Robert Williams, you are under arrest for fraud and grand larceny. You have the right to remain silent …”
Chapter 34
“Well, of course he pleaded not guilty,” Gracie told Pen on the phone. “And I’m sure he’s filled his high-priced lawyer with all kinds of crazy stories. Can you imagine—he somehow thinks he was brought to California against his will.”
They had a chuckle over that. The ‘traveling group’ as Gracie, Mary, and Amber called themselves, had stayed over to attend the arraignment Monday morning, accommodations provided at Janice’s Pasadena home.
“Detective Mason is still pushing to get the early procedures done before the court’s holiday break, so a preliminary hearing is set for Thursday afternoon. It’s where the judge rules that there’s enough evidence to schedule a trial. Mason thinks we should gather as many victims and witnesses as possible, just in case the judge would like to ask a few questions, although he does say that’s not usually the case. Mom is up for it—she’s really excited we caught Rob. So, I wonder if you also want to come, Pen. I mean, technically you’re more a witness than a victim—you did attend a gala and sign one of the contracts, even though you weren’t out any money.”
“Absolutely,” Pen said. “I’ll fly out on Wednesday and I’ll see if Sandy is able to get away as well.”
“Mary’s going to contact Abby Singer, too,” Gracie said. “She’ll be happy to know Rob is finally going to get what’s coming to him.”
* * *
The downtown courthouse was not exactly bustling on the Thursday before the Christmas break. As they’d been warned, aside from traffic court and a few small domestic cases, no major trials were scheduled until the first week of the new year. The Ladies had arrived together, bringing Janice along. They parked in an underground garage and rode the elevator to the third floor, where each had to pass through metal detectors and have her purse searched.
Gracie found herself scanning the faces outside Courtroom A. She spotted Detective Mason speaking with a tall man with pale ginger hair. Both wore off-the-rack business suits. She guessed the second man to be Jim Hesperson, the Attorney General for the county. Without making eye contact with the women, Mason and the other man turned and were admitted to the courtroom by a uniformed bailiff.
The gathering was small—essentially their group and a half dozen people whose purpose was unknown. No jurors were to be chosen today; if there had been, Gracie knew it would have been a much larger crowd. One young Asian man hung to the side, a notebook in hand, but showed no particular interest in anyone else. Another man came striding purposefully through their midst, charcoal suit and blue tie immaculately tailored, no-nonsense expression. He pulled a wheeled briefcase along, gave a nod to the bailiff, and was admitted to the courtroom. A guess told them it was likely Rob’s defense attorney.
Abby Singer came rushing in just as the bailiff opened the door to admit them. Mary gave her a hug and introduced her to Amber, Pen, and Sandy. They found seats on a bench behind the prosecutor’s table, with Sandy moving to the defense side to keep up the pretense of being on Rob’s side.
Five minutes later, there was a stir in the room as Rob Williams was escorted in. He wore an orange jailhouse jumpsuit, but his hair and goatee were neat, his face clean, his manner one of easy friendliness as he greeted his attorney. No handcuffs or shackles. Obviously, no one was worried about Rob presenting a danger to the court. He sent Sandy a confident smile.
The bailiff announced the judge and everyone stood. The bald man in robes must have been as wide as he was tall—the black garment draped outward in front, as if covering a basketball, concealing what no ordinary street clothing could have. His gaze swept the room. Something about it satisfied him. With a nod toward each of the attorneys, he sat. Gracie wondered if he had a booster seat in his high-backed leather chair.
“Welcome to my courtroom. I’m Judge Alderston. We are not here today for a trial. This is a preliminary hearing in which I shall determine whether enough cause exists to warrant the cost of a trial to the State of California. I have received and reviewed the briefs presented by both the prosecution and the defense. Does either attorney have any additional evidence for my consideration?”
Hesperson for the prosecution stood. “If it please the Court, the victim of the theft is here today.”
“Yes, yes,” Alderston said. “Does this vi
ctim have any further evidence to present, beyond what I already know?”
“No, your honor, but—”
“Never mind, then. I’ve already read it.”
Beside Gracie, her mother seemed relieved that she would not be called to speak.
The judge continued. “Anything else?”
The defense attorney seemed curiously quiet, yet in an anticipatory way. He gave a small shake of his head when the judge looked his way.
“All right, then,” said Alderston. “I have read the statements by both sides and reviewed the statement by the so-called victim.”
Gracie stiffened at his wording.
“A woman, Mrs. Janice Weaver …” He looked up. “Mrs. Weaver invested some money and lost it. The contract I was given in evidence is not the actual contract the victim signed, but was submitted as an example. Frankly, I do not see reason why this case is in my criminal court. I’m not even certain it’s a case at all, but if it is, it’s a matter for the civil courts.”
“Your honor, we’ve submitted other evidence,” Hesperson said.
“Some video and audio recordings? Nowhere in your brief does it state said recordings take place between the victim and the suspect.”
“They don’t—”
“Exactly.” The judge banged his gavel. “And that’s why I’m dismissing this case.”
Jaws dropped all over the courtroom. Janice gripped her daughter’s arm; Gracie felt tears rise; Pen, Amber, and Mary were alternately sputtering and turning toward each other. Detective Mason seemed dumbfounded. Sandy and Abby were both stone-faced.
The word on everyone’s lips was “What!” Everyone except Rob Williams. He turned to his attorney as the judge exited the room, and the two exchanged smug smiles. Gracie caught it and felt her teeth clench. She elbowed Pen and nodded toward the pair.
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