Liza eyed the door then sat. “Sure. It’s not like the place is filled with customers. Bring me my lunch from the fridge if you don’t mind.”
Bree grabbed her own sandwich, a Diet Coke, and Liza’s lunch and hurried back to the front. “Are we allowed to eat in the showroom?”
“Not technically, but today isn’t like a normal day.” Liza opened the lunch bag and lined up her sandwich, chips, and apple. She spun the apple, engrossed in watching it wobble on the counter, but didn’t seem interested in eating anything.
“Not hungry?”
“Worried. You’re lucky, getting the police interview out of the way.” She peeled the wrapping from her sandwich and pinched off a bite.
“I guess. I can imagine how awful it would be to wait. But,” she slid her gaze to Liza’s face “it’s not like you killed Billy or anything.”
Liza flinched and pushed her sandwich away. “No, I didn’t kill him, but I mean…” She grabbed her apple and twisted the stem absently. “I don’t want to speak ill of the dead either.”
Something in her change in tone alerted Bree. There was more to the story, but Liza wasn’t about to open up. As Bree considered her next steps, James appeared, asking Liza to join him. Thinking quickly, Bree spoke up. “Detective?” she asked trying to sound hesitant. “Um, I mean, can I ask you a question? ’Cause I think I said something wrong this morning and I don’t want to get in trouble for…”
James turned to her. “I’m sure it’s fine, Miss Holmes. Why don’t you tell me now, if it’s okay with Ms. Barnett,” he said, referring to Liza. When she assented, Bree followed James to the room set aside for questioning.
“Miss Holmes?” he said as he shut the door. “God,” he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, “even I believed you were just out of college. You’re good at this.”
“Yes. I am. But I was talking to Liza and something doesn’t seem right. I wish you were on coms so I could listen in.”
“The best I can do is share a recording of the session with you later. It’s not like we have video cameras in the room.”
Bree’s gaze went first to the corners of the office, then to the bookshelves, looking for potential surveillance equipment. James watched, realization dawning on him slowly.
“I doubt there are cameras here. And I don’t think I can convince her to let me question her in the showroom. Plus, I don’t want to go down that path.”
“You’re right. But do me a favor and watch to see if her words match her facial and other micro expressions. Look for tics and—”
“Bree. Believe it or not, that’s part of my training.” His dry tone snapped her out of spy mode, and she felt her cheeks heat.
“Sorry. I was in the zone, I suppose.”
James nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “I’ve never seen you work undercover before. I,” he hesitated. “I’m both impressed and a little freaked out. But that’s a matter for later. I need to get to Liza Barnett. We can debrief tonight.”
“Perfect.” She gave him a smile which he returned, adding a wink for good measure. Then Bree ducked her head and mentally transformed back into Cat Holmes. “Um, thanks, Detective. I feel better now.”
“Very well, Miss Holmes.” James opened the door and escorted her back to the main showroom, a professional stranger once again.
Chapter 14
While Liza went to speak with James, Bree was left alone in the showroom. Alone except for Scarlett, that was.
“Pretty lady?” Scarlett hopped from one perch to another, whistling, trying to capture Bree’s attention.
“Are you lonely, girl?” Bree came close to the bird, watching as Scarlett flipped in a circle on her perch then tilted her head.
“Jack of All Trades!” Scarlett hopped impatiently within her cage. “Pretty lady, grape?”
Bree laughed at the antics and headed to the counter to search the storage space beneath for Scarlett’s treats. “Just a minute, you silly girl. I’ll get you a grape.” She fed Scarlett the last two grapes in the container and settled back on the stool behind the counter.
With business slow and the showroom empty for most of the day, Bree first checked the drawer that held the car rental paperwork, but couldn’t find the paperwork on the Crown Vic. Did Liza have another place she stored pending files?
Bree moved to the computer and checked the online logs. No information other than the date of pickup, an airline flight number, and the—likely fictional—name Bruce Kahn and family. She snapped a screenshot, intending to look up the manifest later.
She spent a few more minutes searching the computer, wondering if she could try her hand at hacking into the employee files to learn more about the people she worked with. Or should she simply ask Jack to give her access?
The suspicious death of Billy Bandergas threw the whole investigation out of kilter. If he had been murdered—and Bree was certain he had—no one could be trusted. Before she could decide what to do, Scarlett called out a greeting and Mrs. Telligio entered the showroom.
Bree closed the programs on the computer and pulled up a game screen just as the woman moved behind the counter.
“Oh, goodness. Are you here by yourself, Cat?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bree shifted on her seat as if uncomfortable and Mrs. T hustled over, shaking her head. “I was bored so I, just, um, started playing a game.”
“You should have called for me or one of the others. You’re too new to be expected to be in charge on your own.”
Bree shrugged. “Liza is talking to the detective and I don’t know where Margie is. But it’s okay. I helped a few customers earlier today and I’ve got the hang of it.” She moved to the counter and looked around the showroom. “I would have straightened the display shelves, but they seem in order.”
Mrs. T gave her a warm smile. “You’re doing a wonderful job,” she assured Bree. “But it hardly seems fair to expect so much from you after only a couple of days' worth of training. Especially during times like this. Very upsetting, what happened to Billy.”
Bree saw her opening and grabbed it. “Everyone’s acting pretty weird. Liza even snapped at me.”
Mrs. T made a soothing sound. “She’s got a lot on her plate these days. And a police investigation makes everyone jumpy. But we’ll get through it.”
“Talking to the cop was unnerving,” Bree added, watching Mrs. T for her reaction.
The woman simply shrugged. “No one wants to rehash their day knowing the police are looking to see if you’re lying. We are all on edge. I’m as sure as I can be that Billy didn’t bash in his own head and stuff himself in that car. Which means someone else did.
"Like it or not, that someone else could be one of us.” She shook her head, looking weary. “It would be for the best if the responsible person stepped up and admitted what they did. It was clearly an accident but covering it up makes the responsible party look guilty. Pity.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Bree agreed. If Mrs. T really thought Billy had been hit over the head and the investigation was about the cover-up of a fatal accident, she could go immediately to the bottom of Bree’s suspect list. Unless her innocent patter was a cleverly crafted lie.
Bree followed Mrs. T’s movements as the woman walked to the cash register. “Might as well make the bank run early today. Watch the door to alert me if any customers are approaching.”
Angling herself so she could look outside for customers and see the faint reflection of Mrs. T in the plate glass door, Bree took up her position. The office manager opened the cash register and pulled out the top drawer, methodically counting bills and aligning them as she placed them into stacks.
In the blurry reflection, she could have been anyone, including the unknown person who wrapped the stacks of bills in the Crown Vic. Bree squinted to watch more closely.
“Green money,” shouted Scarlett. Bree whirled to see the bird pacing, pecking at toys in the cage, and generally acting happy.
“Green money, green money.” Her voice was odd, not at all like the Scarlett who greeted customers or begged for grapes. More like Billy’s voice. Bree shuddered, hearing the dead man’s voice coming from the friendly parrot. Again.
“You silly bird,” chided Mrs. T as she placed the stacks of bills into a bank bag and zipped it shut. “I don’t know who taught you that, but it isn’t the kind of thing we want you saying.” She shook her head and blew Scarlett a kiss. The bird replied with her own set of kissing noises.
“All right, Cat. I’m all finished here, no need to keep watch. I’ve left you enough cash to be able to make change. I’ll just grab my purse and take this to the bank.” She turned away with the bird calling after her.
Liza returned to the showroom looking pale and drawn.
“Are you okay?” Bree moved beside her in a show of support.
“Of course.” Liza’s gaze flickered to the hallway and she gnawed on one ragged fingernail.
Someone or something had her spooked. Bree chattered aimlessly, trying to appear nonthreatening and ease Liza into conversation, hoping she’d let information slip. “Mrs. T was here and emptied the cash drawer.”
Liza looked over, startled.
“To take it to the bank,” Bree clarified.
“Of course. What else would she have done? I’m sorry, I’m just a little freaked out by today. First, I learn Billy was murdered, then we’re all being questioned. It’s like living in a movie or something.” She glanced at her clenched fists and slowly relaxed her hands. “He wanted to know where I was from the time I left work yesterday until the time I returned this morning. Creepy.”
“Yeah. But like you said earlier, at least he’s handsome. Like, movie-star handsome.”
Liza laughed, her voice a little shaky but color returning to her cheeks. “I did say that, didn’t I? But to answer your unspoken question, no, I didn’t distract myself with looking. This morning it all seemed like a set up for a romantic comedy. Cute cop arriving to question the suspects under the guise of flirting with them. For a minute, it made me forget that Billy’s dead. But he is, and that washes away all illusions. For me anyway.”
“Me too. Anyway, the detective’s old. Like, over thirty.”
Liza gave her a smile. “Over thirty won’t seem so old in a couple of years, Cat. You’ll see.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “You might as well take a break. We’re open late tonight, and I doubt the detective will want any of us to go home until he has a chance to talk to everyone. I’ve got everything under control here.”
On her way to the break room, Bree passed Gordon, who scowled at her and muttered under his breath. “What was that, Mr. Reed?” she asked, refusing to be cowed by him.
“Nothing. Nothing at all, miss. You just mind your own business. I’m sure Mrs. T will want to talk to you about today, but that’s not my business, is it? No, miss, it isn’t, and I always keep my nose out of other people’s business.”
His rant continued as he rounded the corner to the garages.
“Watson?” Matthew’s voice sounded in her ear and she mumbled a reply and pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll make sure Jack knows we need access to all areas of his business and smooth things over from this side. You try to patch things up with Gordon in case you need to pump him for information. Got it?”
Bree held her cell phone to her ear, pretending to talk into it as she made her way into the kitchenette. “Got it. Thanks, babe. It’s been a trying day.”
“At least some of us aren’t stuck behind a desk pushing papers all day,” Matthew grumbled.
“Love you too,” Bree announced. “Bye.”
“Tugood out.” Matthew’s line went silent and Bree pocketed her phone.
Magnus and Juan huddled at one of the tables, conversing quietly. Bree moved closer. “You guys are working late. I thought the garage shift started early and left early.”
“Usually.” Magnus used his foot to shove a chair out from under the table. “Join us. We’re just killing time till the cop calls us in.”
“Not killing time,” corrected Juan. “wasting time. I, for one, don’t want to think about killing anything.” He tipped a travel mug to his lips and drank. “There’s been enough of that.”
Magnus leaned close to Bree, ducking his head to bring it close to her level. “Mr. Reed has just spent the last hour elaborating on the ways a person could have killed Billy. He always liked the man, but now that Bag-O-Gas is dead, Gordon had practically turned him into a saint.”
“He wasn’t a saint,” said Juan, “but he wasn’t that bad either. Bossy and demanding, like my dad. Lazy like,” he flashed Bree an apologetic look, “like a white version of my dad.”
Bree held her tongue and flicked her gaze between the two men.
“Don’t worry about it,” Magnus said. “It’s a compliment that Juan’s willing to be open around you. A sign of respect.”
“Hell, yes, it is,” added Juan. “Anyone who refuses to be cowed by Gordon gets respect from me. In that vein,” he angled his chair to Bree, “I’ll be honest with you if you’ll be honest with me. What was the deal with the car this morning?
Bree’s face heated and she avoided his gaze, hating the need to, once again, meet honesty with prevarication and lies. “The whole thing was Margie’s idea. She was showing me a way to get even with my boyfriend by messing with his car. He’s kind of a jerk about his car,” she added.
“Didn’t sound to me like you were mad at him a minute ago.”
“Yeah, well,” Bree shrugged, “it comes and goes.”
Magnus crossed his massive arms and regarded her seriously. “If a gearhead boyfriend is the real reason you wanted to learn about the car, you’re wasting your time. Isn’t she, Juan?”
“True, that. Gearheads are like Billy. They know when their cars have been messed with. Maybe not who did the messing, but they’re more attentive to their cars than to their women.”
“I’ll tell you what’s more useful,” Magnus said, drawing her attention. “Learning to care for your own car. Like knowing how to change the tires and check the fluids. We can teach you that.”
“I don’t think I want—”
“You should want to.” Juan fixed her with a stare. “Every woman should know how to take care of her own car. Men love to do it for you but being dependent on anyone is foolish. Unless you think you’re too much of a diva to learn.”
I think I don’t want either of you digging around in the spare tire wells of cars that may hold stolen cash. “I just don’t want to do it while Gordon’s around,” she whispered, throwing a glance at the door. “He’s already annoyed with me.”
Both the men waved her concern away. “Gordon will get over his snit. He always does. Bring some donuts in the morning and that’ll sweeten him up.” Juan gave her a wink. “After he leaves, I’ll come back, and Magnus and I will show you a thing or two about your car. Deal?”
She nodded. “Deal.”
When James came to ask Magnus to join him, Bree stayed behind and chatted with Juan. She listened as he lectured on about crankshafts, drive trains, and other automotive specific issues. For someone who reported to the likes of Gordon, he knew a lot.
“Sounds like you could have been running the place,” she commented. “Do you think, I mean, not to sound rude or anything, but with Billy gone…”
“Do I think I’ll move up into his position?” Juan shrugged. “Depends. Jack and Billy were tight. I doubt he’ll be able to replace him soon. Or ever. And Billy and Gordon were like,” he paused thinking, “like grilled American cheese on white bread. Two nasty things stuck together that compliment each other.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Billy was brash. Gordon tempered him. Coddled him, almost. And Gordon without Billy doesn’t know who he is. They propped each other up, and as a team, were better than either by himself.”
Bree hadn’t seen enough of the
m to know if Juan’s assessment fit or not. But either way, she’d need to get back on Gordon’s good side if she wanted to make headway in her investigation.
“Maybe when this is over, you’ll get a chance to do more with the garage,” she offered lamely. “It sounds like you really know what you’re talking about. Even if I don’t.”
Juan laughed. “In other words, I rambled on a bit too much for a girl who just need to learn to change a tire.”
“Something like that.”
“My sisters say the same.” He shifted in his chair and turned his head to the door. “Looks like I’m up,” he said to her as Magnus and James entered the room. “Wish me luck.”
Chapter 15
From her position sprawled on the thick mat, Bree looked up at James. His knees straddled her waist and his hands pinned her wrists near her ears. A smile tugged at her lips.
“You’re not nearly as concerned about your position as you should be,” James chided. “What if I were one of the bad guys?”
Bree wiggled a bit, but his seat held. She wiggled more, thrashing her head from side to side to distract him from her movements as she bent her knees and inched her heels toward her hips. “Help me, help me,” she cried trying to keep the laughter from her voice.
“That’s not going to work.”
“Are you sure?” As she spoke, she simultaneously shot her hands along the mat to a position above her head and lifted her hips, twisting them to the side. Unbalanced by her combination of moves, James tumbled off her to the side. Bree rolled with him and ended up on top. “Because I thought it worked rather well.”
“It almost worked,” he corrected as he wrapped his arms around her, rolled them again and pinned her under his body. He kissed her, letting his lips linger over hers until her whole body softened and she returned the kiss, her own fingers tangling in his damp blond hair. “You should have run away when you had the chance.”
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