by Lee Hollis
Dan leaned forward, elbows on the table. “And you want us to ferret him or her out?”
“Not only that, I want you to conduct a wide-range surveillance of Maybelline because I want a full counting of everyone involved in this theft for when I sue,” Poppy said forcefully. “I assume you can do that?”
Dan cracked a smile. “Oh, yes, we can do that. For the right price.”
“I hate discussing money, that’s what I have Violet for, she handles all that, which leaves me unencumbered so I can freely nurture my creativity.”
“Of course,” Dan said, widening his smile as he began seeing dollar signs.
Suddenly the door to the conference room burst open, and a man breezed in.
“Sorry, I was on the phone with another client,” the man said before turning to the group assembled.
“This is Phil McKellan, another associate. He heads up our surveillance unit, so I’m sure you’re going to want to talk to him.”
Phil took one look at Violet and blanched. He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out.
“Phil, you okay?” Dan asked, slightly concerned.
Violet stood up to confront him, her whole body shaking.
Phil started backing out of the conference room. “Excuse me, I need to go. . . .” He didn’t even bother waiting until he could come up with something. He just turned and bolted.
“Don’t you dare walk out on me!” Violet shrieked, running around the table and out the door after him.
Poppy turned back and smiled at the stunned faces of Dan, Ty, and Chava. “They obviously know each other.”
“Apparently,” Dan said, utterly confused.
Poppy jumped to her feet. “Violet can be a little high-strung. I should probably go check on her to see what all the fuss is about. Matt, why don’t you walk Dan and his team through our security protocol, maybe they can identify any soft spots that may have made us vulnerable to a mole. Sound good?”
“Happy to, Clair,” Matt said, although he would be making it up as he went along.
“I’ll be right back,” Poppy said, scooting out of the conference room, stopping at the secretary’s cubicle just outside.
Before Poppy had a chance to ask, the secretary pointed down the hall. “They went that way.”
“Thank you,” Poppy said, hurrying off, the high heels of her pink Jimmy Choos squishing into the thick gray carpet. She rounded the corner to find Violet hovering outside a door. “Is he in there?”
“Yes, he thinks the fact that it’s a men’s room is going to stop me from following him!” Violet scoffed.
“So why are you still out here?”
“It’s a men’s room,” Violet moaned.
Poppy admired Violet’s shyness, but Poppy herself was never one to be deterred. She grabbed Violet by the hand and together they barged into the bathroom.
Phil stood near the urinals, facing them, astonished they were in the building let alone the men’s bathroom.
Finding her voice, Violet finally stepped forward in front of Poppy and cried, “How dare you? How dare you toy with my emotions like that! How can you be so thoughtless and cruel?”
Before Phil could respond, the door to one of the stalls opened and a small man with thick glasses meekly poked his head out to see if it was safe to come out. “I just need to wash my hands, if that’s okay.”
“Hurry up!” Violet snapped.
Startled, the man scooted over to a basin and turned the water on, pumping soap in his hands, scrubbing as fast as he possibly could. He glanced over at Phil, who was frozen like a statue. “I’m going to need your expense report by the end of the day, Phil, otherwise I can’t cut you a check until next week.”
Phil nodded nervously. “Got it, Stu.”
The accounting guy finished, then tore off a paper towel from the dispenser, quickly drying off before cautiously moving around Poppy and Violet with a polite nod and escaping out the door.
When he was gone, Violet angrily folded her arms. “Well, I’m waiting! How many other women have you pretended to be interested in, raising their hopes that this time it might be the real thing, then coldly and callously deserting them after you got what you wanted?”
Poppy gently touched Violet’s arm. “Honey, since time is of the essence and we’re going to be thrown out of here in a matter of minutes, maybe we should focus on the more pressing issue?”
“What’s more pressing than my heartbreak?”
“I would never diminish what you’re going through, Violet, but there is the matter of why Phil was seen on the Parker Hotel’s security cameras loitering in the lobby the night Fabian Granger was found drowned in his bathtub.”
“Oh, yes, well, I suppose murder does trump my fragile emotional state,” Violet agreed before spinning back and spitting out in Phil’s direction, “But that in no way lets you off the hook for what you did to me!”
Phil took a tentative step forward. “For the record, I had nothing to do with what happened to that reporter.”
Poppy studied him closely. “Then why were you there?”
Phil hesitated.
“We already know you must be working for Hal Greenwood,” Poppy said. “You might as well come clean.”
Phil glanced at Violet, who was still steaming. Fearing what might happen if he made her even more upset, Phil finally relented and said, “Greenwood hired Cobra to spy on Granger and find out how much he knew about the sexual harassment claims against him, hoping to somehow stop him from writing about them. He was desperate. He also widened our mission after Danika Delgado’s murder to also keep tabs on your agency because he was worried about what you might find.”
“That Hal Greenwood is a murderer?” Poppy asked.
Phil sighed. “No. You know that can’t be true. He has an airtight alibi. He was on a conference call. If we ever seriously thought Hal Greenwood suffocated that poor girl, we would instantly drop him as a client and contact the authorities. Greenwood was obsessed with his reputation. His sole purpose for hiring us was to keep ahead of any scandal that might break wide open.”
“And so that’s why you showed up for square dancing at the senior center and tried to sweep me off my feet!” Violet wailed, a humiliated look on her face. “It was all just a ploy to get close to me so you could lift my office key and duplicate it and plant your bugging devices!”
Phil nodded solemnly and muttered, “Yes.”
Violet walked up to him, eyes blazing. She waited for him to look at her, and then she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face.
“Violet!” Poppy cried.
Phil rubbed his cheek with his hand. “No, I deserved that.”
Violet stepped away from Phil until she was next to Poppy.
Phil lowered his hand. His cheek was slightly red from the slap and he continued, “I went to hang out at the Parker just to make sure Granger didn’t go anywhere, and to follow him if he did leave. That was my assignment. Keep watch, but make no contact. I never went to his room, I never saw him, I never touched him. You can check out the hallway cameras outside Granger’s room and the one pointed at the patio near the pool. You’ll never see me anywhere near there. I was hanging around the lobby exit the whole time.”
Phil waited for Poppy or Violet to say something, but neither spoke.
He took a deep breath. “I’m not a killer . . .” Then, after thinking about it, “At least not anymore. I used to be a Green Beret, and that kind of came with the job.”
Violet shuddered.
Phil softened, took another small step toward her. “Violet, for what it’s worth, I hated dropping contact with you. It’s the worst part of this job. To be honest, I found you utterly charming and fun to be with during our brief time together. And if circumstances were different—”
Violet shot a hand up to stop him.
She didn’t want to hear anymore.
She turned on her heel and fled the bathroom.
“You can tell your boss Claire St. Clair
will be taking her business elsewhere,” Poppy sniffed before turning and chasing after her friend.
As the door closed behind her, she overheard Phil say to himself, “Who?”
Chapter 41
Poppy could not help but feel a bit garish in her bright pink suit that she had worn to play the part of Claire St. Clair as she burst through the doors of Bear Valley Community Hospital in Big Bear, California. When she, Matt, and Violet had decided to trek to Los Angeles to look into Cobra Security Force International, Poppy had insisted they take two cars since she had received word from a nurse that Sam would be discharged later in the afternoon once his doctor officially signed off.
Sending Matt and Violet back to the desert in his rental, Poppy had zipped up the winding roads to the top of Big Bear Mountain and arrived just before six in the evening. Clicking down the hallway in her heels, she stopped at a nurses’ station and asked where she could find Sam Emerson. A distracted male nurse, manning two phone calls at the same time and an impatient doctor waiting on some paperwork, gestured toward Sam’s room down the hall. Poppy thanked him, and marched down to the open door where Sam, fully dressed, sitting in a wheelchair by the bed, was arguing with a short, stout, stern-looking nurse in blue scrubs who appeared to not appreciate Sam’s aggravated tone.
“Look, I feel fine,” Sam said gruffly. “What’s so bad about calling a taxi to drive me home?”
“Because it’s against hospital policy as I have already explained to you, three times, Mr. Emerson. You need to be driven by a friend or family member, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Well, that’s just ridiculous,” Sam spat out. “What if I just say the cab driver’s an old army buddy?”
The irked nurse vigorously shook her head. “That won’t work.”
“Why not?” Sam sighed.
“Because now I know you’d be lying. Am I going to have to call the doctor, who is a very busy man, and have him come here just so he can talk some sense into you?”
Poppy stepped into the room. “There’s no need for that. The friend or family member has finally arrived.”
Sam and the nurse turned to Poppy, both surprised by the shiny pink suit she was wearing. There was a silence as they both took the whole look in.
“I know, I know, I look like a walking stick of bubble gum,” Poppy sighed.
“I was going to say you look beautiful,” Sam said with a sly grin.
“Hallelujah! The man finally said something nice,” the nurse cracked. “I was beginning to wonder if he was even capable!”
Sam shot her an annoyed look. “Don’t start with me, Nurse Ratched.”
“He can get a little irritable and depressed when he feels confined and trapped,” Poppy explained. “He’s like a wild horse that needs to run free. I’m sorry if he’s given you any trouble.”
“Oh, we’ve kept him in line as best we can,” the nurse said.
“Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here!” Sam barked, gripping the sides of the wheelchair and starting to struggle to his feet.
The nurse grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him back down. “Oh, no you don’t. Until the doctor says you can go, you’re not getting out of that chair.”
“I feel like Papillon on Devil’s Island. There is no escape!” Sam bellowed.
The nurse, who was probably in her early thirties, gave him a quizzical look. “That must be one of those old man references.”
“You really are working my last nerve, lady,” Sam seethed.
“Good, it’ll keep your blood pumping and your heart rate up,” the nurse said before turning to Poppy. “Let me call the doctor, and then, if there is a God, you can finally take him off our hands.” She turned back to face Sam and patted him on top of the head. “Sit tight, Mr. Emerson.”
Sam swatted the nurse’s hand away from his head. She chuckled and ambled out of the room.
Poppy folded her arms and tried not to crack a smile. “Sounds like you’ve been a naughty boy.”
“Well, if they’re going to treat me like a child, then I’m going to act like one. Let’s get the hell out of here. I’ve been here long enough. I hate hospitals.”
Poppy had never seen Sam so anxious and uncomfortable, but she was not going to allow him to run roughshod over the dedicated and hardworking nursing staff. “No, you do as the nurse says. They’ve done a remarkable job. You look a thousand times healthier than when I saw you last.”
Sam grumbled something unintelligible, which Poppy ignored. She sat down on the bed to wait for the nurse to return. Sam rattled on about all the things he needed to do like chop wood for his fire, replace a cracked window pane on the cabin, fix the broken starter motor on his car. Poppy just nodded politely and let him go on.
When the nurse returned, she did not look happy. “I’m afraid the doctor wants to keep you one more night.”
Sam nearly jumped out of his wheelchair. “What?”
The nurse grinned. “Just kidding. You’re good to go.”
“You nearly gave me another heart attack!” Sam snapped.
“Please, nobody wants that. We’re already so close to finally getting rid of you.”
Poppy couldn’t suppress a chuckle.
“Yeah, she’s a real Ellen DeGeneres, this one,” Sam said.
“He’s all yours,” the nurse said. “Good luck.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll whip him into shape once I get him home,” Poppy promised.
Poppy positioned herself behind the wheelchair and pushed Sam out of the room and down the hall.
An orderly appeared to take over for Poppy. “Allow me, ma’am.”
“Oh, that’s okay . . .”
“Hospital policy,” he insisted.
Poppy shrugged and allowed the cute young orderly to take her place and push Sam’s wheelchair.
“They got a policy for everything around here!” Sam bellowed.
“Don’t forget to write!” the nurse yelled as she laughed and returned to her station.
“Don’t hold your breath!” Sam yelled back, then shifting in the chair as the orderly wheeled him into the elevator, he turned to Poppy. “You don’t have to hang around my place playing nursemaid, I’ll be fine on my own.”
“I was never going to stay at your cabin,” Poppy said.
“Oh, I thought you said . . .”
“You’re coming to my place.”
“What? No! You don’t have to take me all the way back to Palm Springs with you, that’s crazy.”
“It’s already settled. I’ve been by your cabin and packed you a bag. You have everything you need, and what you don’t have, I can pick up for you.”
“Poppy, I’m not an invalid. . . .”
“Now you listen to me, Sam Emerson, maybe you think you can get away with torturing the nurses with your miserable behavior, but I will not tolerate it, do you hear me?”
Sam, startled by her unusually stern tone, glanced up at the orderly behind him, who was trying to suppress a grin.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Before the orderly could wheel Sam out, Poppy stepped in front of the wheelchair, blocking their way. “You had a heart attack, Sam. You need ample time to recover. And you can’t be doing it all alone in some remote cabin in the woods. I won’t hear of it. So you’re moving in with me for a few weeks, whether you like it or not. And if you give me any trouble, I will call Nurse Ratched up here to come by and help me keep you in line. Do you understand?”
Sam, speechless, nodded.
“Now the first thing we’re going to do when we get to my house is write a nice thank-you card to all the good people who worked so hard taking care of you,” Poppy said, flicking her eyes to the orderly, who was now smiling ear from ear, impressed. “Starting with . . .”
“Rodrigo, ma’am” he said.
“Starting with Rodrigo. Thank you.”
Rodrigo nodded appreciatively and began to help Sam stand up, but Sam waved him off, preferring to do it himself.
> Rodrigo grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and turned to go back inside. “You take care, Mr. Emerson.”
Sam grunted a reply.
“He’s usually much nicer, just wait until he makes a full recovery, you won’t recognize him,” Poppy called out to Rodrigo the orderly.
Poppy slid her arm through Sam’s to give him support. He flinched but didn’t pull away.
“I know, you like to be the big, strapping, strong man all the time, and you will be again, trust me,” Poppy said. “Just give it some time.”
“I just hate having to rely on other people to take care of me,” Sam whispered.
As they arrived at Poppy’s car and she gently assisted Sam into the passenger seat, his body stiff and bones creaky, Poppy tried to cheer him up. “If it makes you feel any better, you are doing me a big favor.”
“How’s that?” Sam asked, insisting on locking the seat belt into place without any help.
“The security company I hired still has not installed my burglar alarm and so I feel a lot safer having you around.”
Sam laughed. “You really don’t have to say that.”
“I will say anything that will get you down off this mountain and into bed at my house.”
Sam cocked an eyebrow, intrigued.
“That did not come out right,” Poppy said, cheeks reddening.
“What are you talking about? You just gave me all the incentive I need to will myself back to perfect health. It’s all about having something to look forward to,” Sam said with a wink.
And then Poppy slammed the car door shut on him.
Chapter 42
After preparing Sam a heart-healthy meal of salmon, sautéed garlic spinach, and mashed potatoes, washed down with one glass of Chardonnay, although she suspected Sam snuck a second glass while she was in the kitchen loading the dishwasher, Poppy prepared the guest room for Sam. She changed the sheets on the bed, provided him towels, and made sure his bathroom was fully stocked with all the necessary toiletries.
Sam remarked that Poppy was a shoo-in for a five-star review on TripAdvisor. As Sam undressed, Poppy headed to the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water so he could take his sleeping pill. Since his heart attack, Sam had been tossing and turning at night, unable to sleep for any long stretches, and so his doctor had prescribed him a pill to knock him out, and it had been mercifully working the past few nights.
