by Gina LaManna
“If I were a thief,” he said smoothly, “and I wanted to steal jewelry from the Fashion Week designers, I’d have started my process months ago. I would have cultivated a list, followed it closely. I would’ve dived into every piece of information I could find—then, I would have selected the highest profile targets, and the least risky targets.”
“What’s your reasoning for using Fashion Week as your time frame?” I asked. “If you were going for money, there are better times to pull a robbery. Less security, etc.”
“If I were a thief, you mean.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sure. I’ll play along.”
His eyes danced with amusement. “I thought you’d be more grateful after I rescued you.”
I gave him a stern look. “I’ll be grateful once I’m convinced you didn’t send him after me in the first place.”
“Fair enough.” Beckett paced between Meg and me, his hands clasped behind his back. “Why would a thief steal during Fashion Week? Not out of need—there are easier things to steal out of necessity.”
My mind flashed back to Carlos’s talk about necessity, the back of my neck burning from the uncanny similarities between the two men.
“This thief has an ego,” he continued. “A motivation besides wealth. Fame, maybe, but I doubt it. There are better, easier ways to become famous. The end target is not the jewelry here. You’re looking at the wrong end game, Miss Luzzi.”
“A thief with an ego who doesn’t need money.” I gave him a pointed stare. “Sounds familiar, Mr. Beckett.”
“My ego is not as large as you expect.” He grinned, unfazed by my sarcasm. “If I were the thief, however, I’d be studying the security, analyzing the targets that would make the biggest splash. I would be trying to impress the world.”
“Would you land on The Morgan Collection?” I asked. “Specifically The Miranda? It’s got all the elements for a good heist: the anticipated debut, the shiny diamonds, the expensive collection. It would make quite a buzz.”
“I know you didn’t mean to say you,” he said, “since this is all theoretical. But yes, to answer your question, I think The Morgan Collection would be high on my list. And if I were the thief, I would know her security backward and forward. Which is how I would have discovered…you.”
“Yeah, but I’m hardly enough of a threat to warrant someone wanting to get rid of me. In broad daylight.”
“You were hired to protect The Miranda, yes?”
“Well yeah, but—”
“Have some confidence, Ms. Luzzi. You’re running a business, and your track record shows you’re damn good at what you do.”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s not always pretty.”
“Does it have to be?” His eyes glittered with approval. “Your record doesn’t tell people how you get the job done. You can carry a gun or your little pink pepper spray, and nobody would ever know.” He took two steps closer. “Your records don’t say that your best friend shot out the tires on your getaway vehicle at Christmas. It doesn’t explain your love of sugar and happy things, and it doesn’t list the outrageous number of traffic tickets you’ve received, or that the alignment on your Kia is twisted so far to the right you could drive in circles without steering.”
My breath vanished like magic. “How do you know these things? And why?”
“Because I’m not the thief. A thief doesn’t dig so deeply. A thief doesn’t take the extra time to understand…Each. And. Every. Little. Detail.” He punctuated each word with a step closer. When he stopped talking, he stood inches away.
I swallowed. “A thief might not, but an artist…” Carlos’s words came flashing back. “Are you a member of The Violet—”
He cut me off before I could finish. “All that your ‘professional’ record shows, Miss Luzzi, is that you took down The Fish, you collapsed an illegal spa, and you have survived numerous explosions…” he coughed, “and other, more creative, attempts on your life.”
“A girl’s gotta keep things fresh,” Meg chirped. “If people just shot at her all day, things would get pretty boring around here.”
“But a normal thief wouldn’t look that deeply,” Beckett continued. “A normal thief would see that you’ve had many successes. They’d see that you’re the granddaughter of Carlos Luzzi—a man whose name still rings bells in this country, even after all his years away. They would see that you’re engaged to Anthony, Carlos’s right hand man. From a distance, Lacey, you are intimidating. To a thief, you are an obstacle who needs to be removed.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t answer my question. How did you know someone was after me right at this moment?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “I didn’t expect it so soon. But the show is tonight. Something was bound to happen between now and then.”
Meg let out a low whistle. “Sweet Baby Arnold,” she said. “You make being a psychic way more work than it needs to be, Becks. I just say broad things like…something good will happen today, and it almost always comes true.”
“Keep up the good work,” Beckett said to Meg. “You’ve got talent.”
“It could’ve just been a mugger,” I said. “It’s not unheard of. Two American tourists walking down a dark alley.”
“Did he ask for your money?”
“No, but—”
“You gave him your wallet, and then he threw it away.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I’m not arguing, Lacey,” he said. “Just pointing out some facts. It’s up to you how you want to use them.”
“He’s being perceptive,” Meg said. “Just like me. I’m perceptive. I’m so perceptive that I noticed this guy smelled sort of like old cheese, or maybe those crackers with the onion flavoring.”
I sighed. “What was he going to do, kill me? Over some necklace?”
The question hung there, and the image of the man reaching for his gun came flooding back.
“Oh, crap,” I said. “You’re probably right.”
“Dang,” Meg said. “We had the bad guy right here, and the slippery bugger got away.”
“Better he get away than you end up dead,” Beckett pointed out. “You almost caught him once, and the good news is that you can make it happen again.”
“I still don’t know who he is,” I said. “I didn’t recognize him. His face was mostly covered.”
“He’s coming after you two because you’re doing something right,” Beckett said. “So I’d suggest that you keep doing what you’re doing, and you won’t need to find him. He’ll be back.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring,” I said.
“Good luck.” Beckett turned away, dipping his head toward us. “Until we meet again.”
“Wait, you’re just…you’re just going away?” I stumbled through my logic, trying to figure out why I felt confused.
The two of us weren’t friends. But he had saved our lives. And he seemed nice enough…minus the creepy information gathering. However, Clay did that too, and Clay wasn’t creepy. Mostly. Regardless, I couldn’t find it in me to dislike Beckett.
“Why are you helping us?” I asked.
“Selfish reasons,” he said. “Plus, I like you. You guys are fun.”
“Selfish reasons?”
Beckett just grinned. Then he left, turning the corner and vanishing. By the time Meg and I followed, he was gone.
Chapter 22
“I’ve gotta work on my disappearing act,” Meg said as we climbed the stairs. “That’s the only thing Beckett’s got on me. I’m not quite that subtle.”
“I never would have guessed.”
“Really?” Meg’s face brightened. “I’ve been practicing.”
“I never would have guessed,” I said again, knocking on the door to Carlos and Nora’s apartment. I crossed my fingers, hoping they were up for babysitting duty, but unfortunately, there was no answer. “Is Clay home?”
Meg shrugged, opened Door A and hollered inside for Clay. No answer there, either.
“Dang it
! Who will watch Arnold?” I looked down at the bedraggled doll.
“I will,” Meg said. “I think he likes me.”
“Yeah, but you swung him at our attacker’s head.”
“It saved your life.”
“Touché.” I let us inside my apartment.
Meg went straight to the kitchen and opened the fridge. “You’ve got no food!”
“Let’s go to lunch after I shower. Make yourself at home!” Escaping into my bedroom, I grabbed my towel. Then I grabbed Arnold. My phone sat on top of the towel, so it came with me, too.
Anthony had texted me some of his favorite emojis earlier and a few sweet messages, so at least I knew he was alive. But I missed talking to him, so I dialed his number on my way to the bathroom.
“Hello?” he answered, and my whole body flooded with happiness.
“Hi!” I said, unable to mask my giddiness. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, sugar. How are you?”
“Good.” I lied a little, looking down at myself, and visualizing a world where I didn’t have scrapes all over my body and the blue gel caked in my hair. “Fantastic, actually. Are you coming back soon?”
“On my way to the airport now,” he said, and I could feel him smile across the phone. “How’s that sitter situation for tonight? I expect Arnold to be gone when I get home.”
I looked down at the odd plastic thing in my arms, a strange pang of some emotion tugging at my heartstrings. “He’s not so bad, Anthony.”
“Lacey.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell me you’re starting to love Baby Arnold.”
“I wouldn’t say love…” I argued.
“It’s just one night away from him.”
“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “But it’s his first night away from home.”
“I’ll make it worthwhile, I promise.”
Anthony’s deep, husky voice sent tingles through my nerves. “Oh, okay. Well in that case, maybe he can stay with Nora. She’s right across the hall, after all.”
“I’ll see you soon, doll. I have to get ready for my flight. I’m planning on going straight to the venue. Where should I meet you?”
“Just call me when you land. I’m not sure where we’ll be.”
“I miss you.”
“I’ll see you soon,” I said. “Now, say goodbye to Arnold.”
There was a long pause. A really, really long pause.
And then finally, “Goodbye, Arnold.”
I hung up feeling happy. Once again, I brought Arnold into the shower with me, humming a little ditty as I rinsed us both off. I climbed back out, re-entering the kitchen—Arnold wrapped in one towel, me in another.
Meg looked up, processed the sight of us, and then shook her head. “You are so weird.”
“Lunch?” I said. “We’ve got half an hour before I want to get to Lizabeth’s.”
“Maybe you’re not so weird,” Meg said. “Especially if you’re buying.”
Chapter 23
I was halfway into a bite of onion focaccia when my phone rang again.
“Hello?” Reluctantly, I set down the bread. “Lizabeth, how are you?”
Meg reached over and snatched the focaccia. Since I prided myself on customer service, I didn’t even fight her for it.
“Lacey, it’s happened!” Lizabeth cried, her voice on the edge of hysteria. “They took The Miranda!”
“I’m on my way.” I stood up, waving to Meg. “Are you at the showroom?”
“Yes, hurry!”
I disconnected and dragged Meg along behind me.
“Why are we rushing?” Meg called, her piece of focaccia flapping as we half ran across the street. “Dine and dash?”
“You saw me pay for the food!”
“Well, we’re still dining and dashing. I didn’t say anything about paying.”
“It’s Lizabeth. We need to get to the showroom—they got to her necklace.”
Meg’s eyes widened as she stumbled onto the curb. “That is not good.”
“I know!”
“No, I mean, you forgot your bread on the counter, and I had my hands full with my own. I’m guessing you don’t want to go back for it?”
I debated for half a second. “No,” I said finally. “No time. Let’s go.”
We arrived outside of the showroom, but unlike the other crime scenes we’d visited recently, there was no crowd. No police. In fact, there was nothing to suggest a crime had even been committed.
Lizabeth looked up as we walked through the door, a tight smile on her face. “Thank you for getting here so quickly.”
“You haven’t called the police?” I looked around the space. The theme looked to be English Countryside meets Royalty, and unlike the other showrooms, it was understated and quaint. No edginess, no glamour, just a timeless sense that exuded expensiveness. Very much like Lizabeth herself. “Where is everyone?”
“No police,” Lizabeth said. “I…I don’t know why I didn’t call them, but I wanted to talk to you first. The authorities haven’t had any luck with the other thefts, and I didn’t want word of this becoming public. Not yet.”
I looked into Lizabeth’s eyes. There was a sliver of hope, but that sliver was fading rapidly into a pool of anxiety. “You don’t want the show organizers hearing about it. Because they might begin searching for a new feature if The Miranda isn’t discovered in time.”
“I can’t lose the show, Lacey,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “This is my dream. I’ve worked years—a lifetime—for this moment.”
“We’ll find it,” I said, pulling confidence from somewhere. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your show. But first, tell me everything.”
“There’s nothing much to tell,” she said, “but I’ll show you. Come with me.”
Chapter 24
She led us to the register and pressed a few buttons. Bells dinged as the cash drawer opened. Lizabeth gave us a shy smile. “Welcome to my safe.”
A door behind her swung open. I hadn’t noticed it before; it blended perfectly into the wall behind it. A picture hung before it, swinging open with it.
“Awesome,” Meg said. “I need a safe like that.”
Lizabeth waved for us to follow her through. “I’m the only one who knows the code besides one person from my security team.”
“Who’s your security team?” I asked. “Do you trust them?”
Lizabeth swallowed, her smile frozen in place. “He’s right here. Lacey, meet Bruce.”
I looked over Lizabeth’s shoulder and came face to face with a gigantic stomach. I let my gaze follow the stomach up past a massive chest, and even further past four chins.
“Hello, Bruce,” I said, reaching out a hand to the mammoth before me. “Pleasure to meet you.”
A hand the size of a crock pot engulfed mine, shaking my arm so hard my whole body jolted in response. He didn’t speak, but I’m not sure he needed to. His size said enough.
“Bruce has been with me for ages,” she said. “He normally doesn’t work in the storefront here, but I brought him out during the Fashion Week preparations. Once the thefts started, I asked him to stick close by as much as possible. Except for a few hours of sleep per day, he’s been here around the clock.”
I gave Bruce a smile. He looked angry.
“Excuse me,” I said, pulling Lizabeth off to the side. “Need a moment with Lizabeth.”
“I know what you’re going to ask,” she said in a rushed whisper. “He didn’t steal the necklace.”
“How can you be sure?”
“For starters, I pay him far more than anything the necklace might be worth on the black market,” Lizabeth said. “He’d be losing a large sum of money if he ever stole from me. Beyond the math, there is the small fact that I trust him. Wholeheartedly. He’s been by my side for years, and if he wanted to steal something, he would’ve done it before now.”
I nodded, hoping she was right. Facing the mountain of a human, I tried to meet his gaze
, and missed by a mile. I hit somewhere near his third chin. “Did you see anything strange, Bruce?”
“Bruce doesn’t talk much,” Lizabeth said. “Here’s what happened. Bruce started his shift at noon today. He came in at eleven thirty on the dot—I know because I was here. The necklace was still here, also.”
“Are you positive?”
“Yes. I checked when the previous guard left. He was already gone from the premises—so it wasn’t him. The necklace was secure in the safe. Bruce took over then. All was fine until he took his bathroom break about twenty minutes ago.”
“Who was watching it then?”
“Me!” More confused than distraught, she pursed her lips. “That’s what I don’t understand. Bruce left to use the restroom while I stood in front of the hidden door. The entire time. Nobody went in or out.”
“When I came back from the bathroom, it was gone,” Bruce said, his voice thundering across the small space. “It was there when I left, like Lizabeth said.”
“That is definitely bizarre,” I said.
Needing a moment to think, I took my time walking around the small room. It was the size of a large walk-in closet—black walls lined the room, completely bare of doors, windows, and paintings. In the center of the room sat a safe the size of a mini-refrigerator. On the front of it was a huge dial as large as my fist, and walls thicker than my thighs. And I ate a lot of cake, which says something about my thighs.
“You sit here?” I pointed to a single chair next to a folding table in the corner. Only an Evian water bottle sat on the table.
Bruce nodded.
“Was there anybody else in the store?” I asked. “Any customers or spectators, or anything?”
Lizabeth shook her head. “No, it’s been a quiet day. I put the closed sign up before Bruce went to the bathroom. With the show tonight, we were planning on closing early, anyway.”
“What about earlier today? Any guests you remember?” I didn’t want to throw out Alessandra’s name, but my adrenaline was racing, wondering if it could have been her.
