I reached Lewis on his cell. He told me he was in Beverly Hills at the Bouchon Bakery waiting for a box of French pastries to take home to his wife.
“You got a minute?”
“What do you need?”
I wasn’t sure how much Lewis had heard about what happened after I’d left Westin’s the morning of the robbery, so I recapped it quickly. I told him how I’d accidentally run into the Wigged Bandit as she was headed back to the parking structure and that afterward she, or he, had begun calling the station, using the name Tomi. From the way Lewis laughed, I suspected this wasn’t the first time he had heard of my involvement, and that I’d become the subject of a little cop-shop humor.
“You really have got yourself into the middle of it, Carol.”
I cringed, my head sinking beneath my shoulders as I pressed the phone closer to my ear. “Not intentionally,” I said.
“But it certainly gives you a little inside advantage. You must have some understanding of what’s going on.”
“I’m not so sure. But I do have a few questions about some of the things you discussed on the Kari Rhodes show—about the Pink Panthers and the Paris robbery.”
“Understand, I’m not saying they’re connected, Carol. Only that the thieves who undertake such an operation are constantly trying to one-up the other. The more elaborate the crime, the bigger their bragging rights. They consider themselves to be above the law and what they do is frequently a team sport.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about, this team sport concept. I’m curious if you and I are on the same page.” I explained how I knew Ms. Pero had been the Wigged Bandit’s inside contact for the robberies, and that they were possibly lovers. And that I also knew the Wigged Bandit was Tomas or Tomi, my mystery caller, and that both he and Donatella worked for Diaz.
“I’m impressed. You’d make a good detective, Carol.”
“I’m afraid hearing you say that doesn’t make me feel any better. I still managed to get myself into the middle of it all, and it appears I helped Tomas get away with the jewels.”
“I wouldn’t beat yourself up. From what I hear, you’ve been an asset to the case. Because of you, the FBI now knows the Wigged Bandit’s identity. Your ID that day at FBI headquarters confirmed he’s Tomas Seville, an international jewel thief, wanted both here and in Europe. And I understand you broadcast a message we hoped to get out on air in attempt to lure him out. Something about the FBI clearing Diaz and his team to return to Spain on Sunday. It’s the only reason we haven’t issued a BOLO report. We don’t want him to know that we know. So I suppose we owe you a little professional courtesy, and long as you keep this to yourself, I’ll share with you a likely scenario of what we think happened that morning.”
“I’d love to hear something.”
“It’s likely that by the time our Wigged Bandit rushed outside of Westin’s with the jewels that another member of the team was waiting, grabbed the jewels, and passed them on to someone else. And that someone may have even passed you on the street after the bomb went off. By the time you finished your report and found Tomas, or who you thought was a little old lady struggling with her packages, and helped her to the parking structure, the jewels were long gone.”
“You’re telling me it was like a relay race? And I was right in the middle of it.”
“In a sense, yes.”
“And you think Tomas’ teammates—the other polo players riding for Diaz—that they were all in on it?”
“Possibly, which is one of the reasons we’ve had such a tight lid on the investigation. We’re getting close. We suspect four of Tomas’ team have been traveling undercover as members of Diaz’s polo team.”
“And Donatella? She’s the linchpin, right?”
“We suspect that someone, maybe Tomas or Ms. Pero, set her up from the very beginning. You have to admit, she was perfect. She looks a lot like Carmen and Diaz likes the ladies. It didn’t take much to know he’d find her interesting. Once she got close to Diaz, it was her job to come between him and his polo players, convince him they didn’t have the talent he needed, and introduce him to Tomas. Who then brought on his own team of thieves and that’s when the games began.”
“Except there was the accident with the horses in Florida. And much as I don’t like Donatella, I have trouble thinking anyone could kill a whole string of polo ponies.”
“She didn’t do it. Like I said before, these groups pride themselves on pulling off these jobs without any violence. And when we went back and researched the case, they couldn’t prove Donatella had anything to do with their deaths.”
Lewis explained Diaz’s team of polo ponies had died as a result of a pharmaceutical error. A tragic mistake. It seems Diaz had sent a list of ingredients he wanted to have prepared to help the horses with exhaustion from the long overseas flight. At the time, there was a drug, widely used in Europe, that wasn’t available here in the U.S., and Diaz figured it wouldn’t be a problem to have a custom concoction of it made up here. But the veterinarian misread the instructions and the results were devastating. “The vet admitted to the whole thing. So if you think this is connected, you’d be wrong.”
“But what about Carmen and Bunny? They didn’t both just die accidentally.”
“The coroner’s report is pretty clear, Carol. Carmen didn’t die because she was poisoned, she choked to death. Not that that would prevent the police from filing murder charges against whoever attempted to poison her. But until we have proof, there’s not much we can do. All we know for sure is that it looks like someone may have wanted to frighten Carmen—put a little copper sulfate in her drink, possibly to send a message. Unfortunately for Carmen, it literally scared her to death. But until we have actual proof it was Donatella, all we have is a theory.”
“And Bunny?” I told Lewis about the voicemail I’d gotten on my home number warning me a friend of mine was becoming a nuisance. “I know it was Tomas. He said accidents happen, and the next thing I know, Bunny’s dead.”
“Her husband says she’d left the house early that morning. He thinks someone called her, and for whatever reason she went out to the ranch. We think someone, maybe Tomas, knew Bunny would be coming by the barn. Maybe even suggested she sneak in early in the morning, exactly like she did. If Tomas was worried about her, he may have even promised her it’d be worth her while. Whoever it was—whether it was Tomas or Donatella—they placed a bag of copper sulfate at the rear of the crossties, behind the horse’s hooves, maybe knowing she’d be looking for it. But proving it, that’s another matter.”
“So there’s no hard evidence that this was anything but an accident?”
“Not yet, there’s not.”
“One more question. You think the thieves actually had a shopping list? That they came here, when they did, for specific items?”
“Absolutely. In the Paris robbery they missed a lot because some of the more valuable jewels were here in LA for the big shows. There’s no doubt in my mind that’s why they chose Beverly Hills at this time of year. Not only could they target selected jewelry stores, but also some of the celebrities’ homes like they did the night of the awards show. Broke into that actor’s home in Studio City and stole one of Liz Taylor’s bracelets. Annabelle’s Auction was just frosting on the cake. They knew exactly what they wanted and got it.”
“So they were all connected. Just like Bunny thought. They came shopping with a list.”
“In a way, yes. They knew exactly what they wanted and where it was.”
“And now Tomas is missing and Diaz and his team are getting ready to go home.”
“That’s right. And unless the jewels are already out of the country, they’re probably taking home better than a hundred million in jewels.”
“Isn’t there any way the police or the FBI can stop them?”
“Not unless we find Tomas or the jewels. And r
ight now, between you and me, it’s not looking good. Come Sunday, if something doesn’t change, Diaz, Donatella, and his team will take off.”
“And all this will be old news before the end of the day.” I hung up the phone and looked down at my notes. Since Bunny’s death, Tyler was no longer riding me to stick with the chick-lite news. I flipped back on the sound so I could hear Kari’s interview with Dr. Merriweather.
“So in essence, Doctor, it’s on us. If we want the holidays to be special, we have to take charge. Make plans. Surround ourselves with friends and family and reach out to those who make a difference in our lives.”
“Tell someone how important they are to you, Kari. You never know what a difference it will make.”
“You hear that, Carol? We need to tell our listeners how important they are to us. Anyone you’d like to reach out to?”
Without thinking about it, I said, “I’d like to thank all our listeners and callers, particularly Tomi. You’ve called a couple of times recently, and I just want you to know what a difference you’ve made in my life. If you’re listening, you know how important you are to me. And I have something special that belonged to someone close to you. I’d like to give it to you. Please call.”
Chapter 34
I met Sheri for dinner at Wally’s in Beverly Hills. Ordinarily on a Friday night, if Charlie was out with his dad, Eric and I would hook up. But tonight, Eric was missing in action, chasing after my elusive Wigged Bandit, and with the way things were between us, I had no idea when I’d hear from him. When Sheri learned I was going to be alone, she insisted we meet for dinner. Wally’s was a wine warehouse turned trendy restaurant on Canon in Beverly Hills. It offered wine by the glass, tapas, and best of all, required no reservations.
A hostess showed us to one of Wally’s long tables, where we were seated family style with a group of well-dressed strangers. Everyone was happily imbibing. It was Friday night, and bottles of fancy imported and domestic wines were lined up and down the table between small plates with tastings of meats and cheeses. As we settled ourselves on high stools, Sheri leaned over and asked me how it was going.
“The truth?” I picked up my empty wineglass and stared at the bottom.
Before I could replace it on the table, Sheri had signaled the waiter and my glass was filled with a warm Bordeaux from the south of France, pricier than the So-Cal wine I would have ordered on my own.
“You’re paying?”
Sheri smiled and placed her black Amex card on the table. “From the look on your face when I walked in here, I think I need to. So ’fess up, girlfriend, how’s it going?”
“Going?” I said sharply. “Not good. I feel like I’m striking out everywhere I turn. The men in my life are all either unavailable or hiding from me. Charlie’s with his dad. Eric’s off chasing this Wigged Bandit. Tomas or Tomi or whatever he wants to be called hasn’t called me back. I’ve got nothing, and right now, nobody’s returning any of my calls.”
“It’s that bad, huh?”
“Worse,” I said. “Eric and I haven’t had so much as a casual conversation in days. He’s off in his world, and I’m in mine. And that leaves a lot to be desired.” I took another sip of my wine and glanced back at the glass. This wasn’t just a good bottle of wine, it was excellent. “What is this we’re drinking? And how much is it?”
Sheri lifted her glass to the light and smiled. “Good, isn’t it?”
“That would be an understatement.” I swirled the glass beneath my nose, releasing the wine’s fragrant bouquet, warm, earthy with a hint of dark berries. It even smelled expensive. “What is this?”
“It’s a 2012 Contet-Pontet from Bordeaux. And you don’t want to know the price.”
“Sheri…” I tried to sound authoritative. I didn’t want my best friend dipping too deeply into her well-lined pockets. A simple bottle of Zin would have been just fine. “It’s just—”
“Don’t.” Sheri held her hand up in front of my face while she took another long sip. “This here,” she pointed a finger at me and then back at herself, “is cheaper than therapy. Besides, need I remind you, things like robberies and murders, they never happen to me, they happen to you. So let me live vicariously, okay? A hundred-dollar bottle of wine is well worth it.” Sheri picked up her glass and clicked the rim to mine.
I knew what Sheri was saying was true. Maybe that’s why we were such good friends. I loved to talk and tell stories, and she liked to listen. She kept me grounded and I kept her entertained.
“To therapy,” I said.
“And if I could offer a little advice with regard to your lack of casual conversation with Eric, one doesn’t always have to talk, Carol.” She raised her eyebrows and looked at me knowingly. “In fact, sometimes it’s better when you don’t.”
I took another quick sip of wine. “Yeah, well, if you’re referring to my love life, let me just say that since my last romantic encounter with Eric in Carmen’s hotel room, I’m sad to report I think that appears to have been tabled. Rubber-stamped officially off-limits by the FBI. At least, until the Wigged Bandit is caught, and even then I’m not sure. So much has happened.”
I could tell the wine was already having an effect on my empty stomach. I couldn’t remember when or if I’d eaten today, and I was starting to feel lightheaded.
“So, what’s next then, Carol? Diaz and his team just go home? Fly off, and that’s the end of it? There’s nothing you can do?”
“It appears so. Unless something happens and the Wigged Bandit is found, it’s bon voyage. Bye-bye, Donatella. Goodbye, Tomas and his well-trained team of jewel thieves.” I raised my glass above my head in a mock salute to their success, the frustration bubbling out of me like an uncorked bottle of champagne. I couldn’t help it. One glass of wine and I was wobbly.
“And the jewels?” Sheri asked.
“They’re probably halfway around the world right now.”
The waiter filled my glass again. I shouldn’t have had a second. Not on an empty stomach. But the warm wine and the cheese plate with dates and nuts he placed on the table looked beyond good. I didn’t refuse.
I waited for the waiter to finish filling my glass, then raised it to Sheri in a toast. “To the jewels, wherever they are.”
Sheri ordered a second plate of cold cuts. It arrived looking like something from the south of France, with artisanal bread and thinly sliced cuts of saucisson and bresaola. She lightly buttered a piece of the bread with a seeded mustard sauce and topped it with prosciutto.
“Then find them,” she said.
“Find them? If the FBI can’t, how can I?” I must have said it slightly louder than I intended. The couple seated at the end of the table looked over at me uncomfortably. I raised my glass again. “Great guys, aren’t they? Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.”
Sheri grabbed my hand and lowered my drink to the table. “Maybe you need to eat a little something?”
“You think?”
“And how about ordering a cola, and going easy on the wine?”
“No.” I was thinking out loud. Sheri looked at me, surprised at my firm response. “I don’t mean the wine. I mean the jewels. You’re right about them. I need to find them.” I took my glass from beneath Sheri’s hand and finished off the rest of my wine. I was starting to feel good. Ironically, the wine had cleared my head in ways I hadn’t imagined. “If they’re not halfway to Europe by now, the jewels are still here. The FBI’s going to search everything that gets on that plane on Sunday. Top to bottom.”
“And if they don’t find anything, it’s going to take off.”
“Right.” I had visions of a big fat-bellied plane sitting on the tarmac. The horses loaded in the back with Diaz and the team waiting to load in the front. Their bags laid out beneath the aircraft, after being checked and rechecked. The pre-flight check would be extreme. They’d go through
everything. Except…
I looked at Sheri. I doubted the FBI ever mucked stalls. As a kid, I’d spent summers at the local stable. Why hadn’t I thought about this before? I knew a few things about transporting horses, and thorough as the FBI might be, they wouldn’t check everything. If I was right, I knew exactly where the jewels were hidden.
“Sheri, there’s one place they’re not going to check.”
“Where?”
I didn’t trust saying another word. I was almost afraid to think it, for fear someone might read my mind and sabotage my plan. I’d already said too much, and the couple at the end of the table continued to look at me as though I were more than just tipsy.
“Sheri, come with me to the airport on Sunday. If I’m right, that plane’s not taking off. Not with the jewels.”
Sheri reached for my glass. “And you’re not driving home tonight. I’m taking your keys and calling you a taxi.”
Chapter 35
Saturday morning, I woke to the sound of a buzzing from within my purse. I had dropped my bag on the floor when I got home from dinner and fell into bed, exhausted and more than a little drunk. The wine had really gotten to me. All I remember was crawling under the covers and then buzz…buzz…buzz. Like an angry bee buzzing about my room. I swiped at the air above my head until I realized the sound was my cell phone.
I glanced blurry-eyed at the screen. It registered three missed calls. All of them from Tyler. The fourth call I answered mid-ring. I must have sounded groggy, like I was hollering from the bottom of an empty barrel. Tyler’s reply came back at me like a shotgun.
“What, are you sleeping? It’s nearly ten o’clock, Carol. I need to see you right away.”
Without a Doubt Page 21
