Regan Reilly Boxed Set 1

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “What?” Regan asked.

  “This afternoon I heard from my lawyer. He says that the production company of the movie where I had the accident is balking about paying me. They don’t want to involve their insurance company. They made an offer of ten thousand dollars. They must be kidding! I’ve been out of work for two months, I have to do therapy, and I could get arthritis, which could cut my career short. I don’t even know when I’ll be able to go back to work.”

  “Well, then stick to your guns,” Regan advised.

  “The only problem is that other producers might not want to hire me if I make too much of a fuss. They’ll be afraid I might sue them one day. Word gets around. But this accident wasn’t my fault. That piece of scaffolding just fell and knocked me over. They should be lucky it wasn’t the lead actor who got hurt.”

  “It’s so unfair,” Regan said. “You shouldn’t have to lose out because of their negligence.”

  “That isn’t even the worst part of my day.”

  “There’s more?”

  “Regan, when I tell you this, you might want to go back to the airport.”

  Why did Jack have to go on that trip? Regan wondered. “Abigail, don’t be silly,” she said with a slight laugh. “What happened?”

  “I got a call from the police a few hours ago.”

  “Why?”

  Abigail cleared her throat as they drove on the highway, headed for downtown. “I think it’s good karma to try and do things for other people.”

  “It is,” Regan said, wishing she’d get to the point.

  “I feel like maybe if I do good deeds I’ll stop being cursed.”

  Regan raised her eyebrows. “What goes around comes around,” she muttered.

  “You know how some people deliver meals to older people?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, after you moved I was so happy going out with Cody. I felt like the world was just wonderful. I decided I wanted to give back, so I started to cut elderly people’s hair for free. I’d show up with my scissors. It just seemed like a nice thing to do for people on a limited income.

  “It all started when I visited a friend of mine who works at an assisted living facility in Orange County. I offered to cut one of the old guy’s hair who lived there. Then another man wanted a cut. So it started. I’d go down there every month and they’d be lined up. It was fun. One guy told me about a friend of his who lived up here and would be so grateful if I’d cut his hair. He lived alone and didn’t have much money. So I called him. I cut his hair three months in a row. Then he started getting demanding. I went away on a shoot and he was annoyed at me because I couldn’t come and cut his hair exactly when he wanted me.”

  “No good deed goes unpunished,” Regan said.

  “It gets worse.”

  “It does?”

  “In September I got back into town and went over to his place right away. He lives in a modest little apartment in West Hollywood. He sat in the chair and then asked me to go get the newspaper for him so he could read while I was cutting his hair. Can you believe it? He didn’t even want to make conversation. So I go in the kitchen and he must have forgotten he left his brokerage statement on the counter. I know I shouldn’t have, Regan, but I peeked at it. He was always acting like he had nothing. Well, my eyes almost popped out of my head. He had over a million dollars in his account! I cut his hair for free and he never offered me so much as a token of appreciation. I was furious but didn’t say anything. When I was finished I told him it might be hard to come back again because I was so busy working all the time. I really needed the money. Hint hint.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He started yelling at me and said I was selfish. I gave him a chance to offer to pay something and that’s the way he acts? I wouldn’t have even charged him that much! I’m happy to help people who need it, but it just kills me when people take advantage of your kindness.”

  “Abigail, why did the police call you?’”

  “He was found dead today in his apartment. He fell backwards and hit his head, but he hit it with such force, they’re sure he was pushed.”

  “They don’t think it was you, do they?” Regan asked aghast.

  “I guess I must be what they call ‘a person of interest.’ The detective asked a bunch of questions, like, when was the last time I’d seen him, that kind of thing.”

  “How did they even know about you?”

  “They found a picture of us in his nightstand. It was ripped in two. I was holding a pair of scissors over his head. We were laughing. I’d taken it with my cell phone and made a copy for him. I’d written my name and number on the back of it in black ink. He used to have it hanging on his refrigerator. At a later date he added, in red ink, “A witch with a bad temper.”

  “Oh boy,” Regan said.

  “Do you still want to go downtown?”

  “Of course I do. With the way your day is going, I’m sure something exciting will happen.”

  7

  Stella was standing outside the baggage area, clearly annoyed. Cody had not been there waiting for her, and he still hadn’t arrived. She’d retrieved her suitcases and had dragged them out to the curb. The situation was so embarrassing. It was obvious that people recognized her and wondered why she was unescorted. She tried Cody’s cell phone again.

  “Stella!” he answered.

  “Where are you?” she demanded. “This is completely ridiculous.”

  “We had so much trouble changing that flat tire you wouldn’t believe it. Dean and I will have to include a scene like this in our next movie.” He attempted to laugh, but to his ears it sounded fake.

  “You still didn’t answer me. Where are you?”

  “Where are you?” was his reply.

  “What kind of question is that? I’m here at the airport still waiting for you. If I had known it was going to take this long, I would have taken a taxi downtown.”

  “Did you get your luggage?”

  “Yes. Of course I did. All the bags are off the flight and everyone else has gone on their merry way. When you called, you said changing that flat tire would only take a few minutes.”

  “I was more optimistic than I should have been. Dean and I are all thumbs when it comes to anything mechanical. But it’s all done now. There’s a brand-new tire on the car. We’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

  “Okay. Hurry, would you?”

  Cody hung up his cell phone. He and Dean were parked in the last row of the lot he’d scurried into after spotting Regan Reilly. It was a stone’s throw from where Stella was standing. “The coast must be clear by now,” he said. “We can’t wait any longer.”

  Wordlessly Dean started the car, drove to the exit, and paid the parking fee. They went down the ramp, came around the bend, and saw the beautiful Stella glancing at her watch. She was wearing jeans, heels, and a very sexy top.

  Dean sighed. “I could kill you. If I didn’t want to make this movie so much, I would.”

  “The right girl is just around the corner for you,” Cody answered. “I can feel it.”

  “I don’t care what you feel. Get Stella in the car fast so we can get out of here.”

  Cody jumped out before Dean had fully stopped the car. “Baby!” he said as he gave Stella a hug.

  “I thought you’d never get here,” she said, pouting slightly.

  Cody kissed her quickly. “I’m here now!”

  Stella pulled off his cap and waved it in the air. “I’ve never seen you wearing something like this!”

  Dean dashed out of the car and opened the trunk.

  “Hi, Dean!” Stella called.

  “Hi. I’ll help load up your bags.”

  “Is there enough room?” Stella asked, as she started to walk to the back of the car. “If there’s a dirty old tire in there, I don’t want my suitcases to…”

  Dean slammed the spotless trunk shut. “You’re absolutely right. Let’s get them in the backseat.”

  “I don’
t know whether they’ll fit,” Stella protested.

  Five minutes later they were pulling out of the airport. Next to Dean on the front seat was one of Stella’s enormous bags. They jammed the other into the backseat, leaving barely any room for Stella and Cody, which they didn’t seem to mind.

  “Cody, you don’t seem like you just changed a tire,” Stella said. “Your hands aren’t dirty at all. I once did a scene in acting class that begins after my character’s boyfriend changed a tire. My scene partner really got into it. He made himself all sweaty and put grease all over his hands.”

  “Dean keeps a carton of those hand wipes in the trunk,” Cody replied quickly. “He’s paranoid about germs.”

  Stella tapped Dean’s shoulders. “That’s a good way to be, Dean. There was a guy on the plane sneezing and coughing. He probably infected everybody.”

  Cody caressed Stella’s shoulder. “You can’t get sick for our movie.”

  “You’d better not,” Dean said, trying to sound carefree. “You’re our star. We have to take good care of you.”

  “You can start by feeding me. I’m hungry! Where should we go?” Stella asked. “We’re in Hollywood! I want to live it up!”

  “You do?” Cody asked with a hurt expression. “I thought Dean would just drop us off downtown and we’d have a quiet evening at the loft. I brought in some of your favorite food.”

  Stella’s face fell, but she quickly recovered. “Okay then, honey. But tomorrow night let’s go out and have fun. No one has to know we’re dating. I’ll be out having dinner with my two favorite directors, right, Dean?”

  “Whatever you say, Stella.”

  “There’s a new place I heard about in West Hollywood that’s supposed to be really fun. It’s called Uzi’s. Why don’t we go there?”

  Cody felt sick. Tomorrow was Abigail’s birthday. Ten to one she’d be out celebrating somewhere. Please don’t let it be at Uzi’s or wherever we end up, he prayed. Dean had been getting so upset lately, Cody didn’t know what he might do if they ran into Abigail. For a little guy, he could be scary.

  8

  Immediately after Mugs got off the phone with Walter, she went down to the senior center. Walter had told her that detectives working on the case wanted to talk to Nicky’s friends. Five of the folks who knew Nicky from the center gathered to answer questions in the recreation room.

  Walter had told Mugs that Nicky had been found on his kitchen floor. The resident manager had knocked on Nicky’s back door because he left his clothes in the apartment building’s only washing machine, and she didn’t want to move them herself. When there was no answer, she peered in the window, saw Nicky on the floor, and ran to get help.

  “Is anyone else coming?” one of the detectives asked Walter.

  “I don’t know. I left messages on people’s answering machines…”

  “Well, let’s get started then.”

  It was established that Nicky had been at the center yesterday morning. Eighty-five years old, he was a man of few words. He’d had several heart attacks over the years and a couple of months ago had suffered one that Walter said “seemed to take the stuffing out of him.”

  Walter turned to Mugs, leaned toward her, and touched her arm. “Wouldn’t you say so, Mugs?”

  “Yes, I would. He was even quieter than usual,” Mugs replied, instinctively leaning back.

  “Do any of you have a key to his apartment?” Detective Vormbrock asked. He was the younger of the two cops, barrel-chested, with sandy hair and a moustache.

  “Are you kidding?” Loretta Roberts answered dramatically, batting her clear blue eyes. “Nicky never would have let anyone have a key. He was always in control. He liked his privacy. I rang his bell once without calling first and he was not very hospitable.”

  “Why did you ring his bell?” Detective Nelson inquired. He was lean with olive skin and graying hair. His calm, practiced manner made it clear that he had been doing this line of questioning for years.

  “Why did I ring his bell?” Loretta almost laughed. “Actually the problem was I didn’t ring his bell, so to speak. I guess he didn’t like me. I’d made a casserole for him after he had the last heart attack. He just took the casserole, mumbled a thank-you, and shut the door in my face. But I’m the type who doesn’t hold a grudge, even though he gave me back the casserole dish with cheese still stuck to the sides.”

  The detectives’ faces remained impassive. “So he wouldn’t be someone who would let a stranger into his house?” Vormbrock asked, tapping his pen on his notepad.

  “If he did, that would make me feel even worse,” Loretta said with a wave of her hand.

  After questioning everyone, the detectives learned that Nicky had worked at a flooring store for most of his life. He’d married when he was in his thirties, but his wife died five years later. He never married again. Several days a week he’d come by the center to play cards, but he wasn’t interested in dancing or going to the movies with the group, even after knowing them all for ten years.

  “He didn’t talk about any problems he had with anybody?” Nelson asked.

  Mugs shook her head. “No. He really kept to himself. But when people leave here, who knows what they’re up to?”

  Hilda, a blond-haired woman who taught the group how to square-dance, had been listening intently. “Detectives, are you collecting evidence?”

  “Of course we are.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. We can’t really discuss that now,” Vormbrock answered.

  “I love all those crime shows,” Hilda continued. “I can usually guess who the killer is before the detectives do.”

  Nelson smiled politely. “So no one knows of any plans that Nicky had for today?”

  They all shook their heads no.

  Walter clearly didn’t want the excitement to end. “Did the manager of his building see any strangers in the vicinity?”

  “As my partner said, at this point we really can’t discuss much about the case but if any of you think of anything that might be helpful, please call us. We’ll give you our cards. And if you don’t mind, we would like your names and numbers. As we continue the investigation, we might have more questions for you.” Nelson turned to the only man who hadn’t said anything. “Sir, do you have anything to tell us about your friend Nicky?”

  Leo had his cane resting in front of him, both arms wrapped around it. “Nah. Yesterday morning we played our favorite card game and I beat him. He seemed a little more upset than usual that he had to pay me two bucks. At the time I didn’t think anything of it. He never liked to lose money. Now it makes me wonder what else might have been bothering him.”

  When Mugs went home, she didn’t feel the same happy anticipation she would have normally felt about Ethel’s pending visit. This could have happened to any one of us, she realized, as she checked the locks on her doors three times. I’m glad I’m going to live with Charley, she thought as she got into bed. It looks like Ethel is going to get a better deal on this apartment than she expected.

  9

  In her cozy apartment in Venice Beach, Lois was grateful to get in bed and under the covers. The television was on, turned to a news station. She reached for the tube of moisturizer on her nightstand, squeezed a dollop into her palm, and started to massage her hands. A burst of trumpets suddenly blared from Lois’s cell phone, startling her for a moment. I’ve got to change that ring tone, she thought, as she glanced at the clock radio. It was 10:02. Who would be calling now? These days there was an unwritten rule about calling after ten. Text message, yes. Call, no.

  “Hello.”

  “Lois, it’s Abigail. Sorry I’m calling so late but I just picked up my friend Regan at the airport. We’re in the car heading to Jimbo’s. I thought if you were working late again tonight you might want to join us.”

  “Thanks, but I can’t. I’m already in bed. I have to work early tomorrow.”

  “Just thought I’d check.”

  �
��Why are you going to Jimbo’s? Cody will never go back there tonight.”

  “We know that. But I have Cody’s picture and Regan wants to show it to the staff. See if anyone recognizes him. Besides, we’re both hungry.”

  “Hey, Ab, tomorrow’s your birthday. I know your grandmother is coming in and you’ll probably have dinner with her, but if you and Regan are going to be out looking for Cody tomorrow night, I’ll gladly join you. I don’t know what time I’ll be free, but I can check in with you during the day.”

  “Thanks, Lois. Now you’re sure it was Cody you saw last night, right?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  “Okay, good. Regan was just asking me a bunch of questions about what happened when you saw him. You can probably tell you’re on the speaker phone.”

  “Hi, Lois,” Regan said.

  “Hi, Regan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “You, too. Abigail is so happy you saw Cody last night. I was just asking if there was any chance at all that it wasn’t him. Abigail said it all happened so fast.”

  “It was definitely him. I only met Cody once, but I’m sure it was him. And what reason would anybody else have to run away when they saw me? That guy had a guilty conscience.”

  “There wasn’t anyone with him?”

  “No. That business partner of his was nowhere in sight, thank God. I hope I never see his face again. I couldn’t stand that guy either. Both of them were so rude.”

  Abigail looked at Regan and rolled her eyes. Regan smiled. “What was Cody wearing?”

  “Jeans, sneakers, a short-sleeved shirt. He was casually dressed, even a little rumpled.”

  “He looked rumpled?” Abigail asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “Why?”

  “Whenever we went out at night, he was always so put together. Believe it or not, he had a certain formality. He only wore sneakers during the day.”