Show Me the Money

by Connie Shelton

  “That’s fine. Amber is a dear friend. I am quite confident in saying any charges against her are completely false.”

  Gracie wondered if Pen intentionally played up her proper British accent in situations like this.

  “Doesn’t matter. My job is to get her out of jail and do my best to keep her out. I can go downtown and meet with her at eleven. She’ll need a ride home after that. You planning on being there?”

  “Absolutely. I can bring several friends as character witnesses.”

  “Not today. This is just for me to find out what evidence they have and convince them she’s not a flight risk.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Pen assured the lawyer.

  The call went dead and Pen looked up at the others.

  “Well, I’m going along anyway,” Gracie said. “Amber called me last night and I don’t want her to think I’m skipping out.”

  “I’d go, but I really need to take over for Billy at the gym,” Mary said. “My women’s self-defense class is this morning.” Her equally athletic business partner was super accommodating of Mary’s outside interests—up to a point.

  Sandy shook her head. “If I don’t get to the bank this morning, they’ll wonder if I’m still their manager. There are only so many dental appointments I can legitimately claim.” She stood and smoothed the pale blue blouse that brought out the color of her eyes and complimented her light skin and blonde hair.

  “It’s fine,” Gracie said. “You heard the lawyer. I have a feeling we’d catch some flak if we all showed up anyway.”

  Pen added, “Besides, until we know more, it might be smart for some of us to remain behind the scenes.”

  They all knew what she meant. In previous cases, the Heist Ladies had used alternate identities and disguises to track down their quarry. And one thing was certain. Amber had somehow been set up, which meant someone was out there. Someone who’d better watch out because the Ladies were on the trail.

  Chapter 4

  The downtown main police station bustled with activity, the lobby filled with civilians—about half of whom looked as if they knew what they were doing and where they were expected to go. Gracie spotted Pen and joined her at the edge of the crowd.

  “Two minutes to eleven,” Pen said. “Seems a popular time of day here.”

  Gracie chuckled and glanced around the large room, wondering if there actually was any less-popular time in a place like this. She recognized Mariah Kowzlowski—she’d looked up her law firm and the lawyer’s profile online before they left home. The heavyset woman with her severe charcoal gray suit and dyed-too-dark hair would never win any fashion awards, but she had a no-nonsense build and a stern bulldog expression that probably made young prosecutors cringe. Pen and Gracie approached.

  “I spoke to you on the phone about our friend, Amber Zeckis,” Pen said.

  “Oh, right.” Kowzlowski glanced at her wristwatch. It was now precisely eleven o’clock. “I’ll have time for a quick consult alone with my new client and then we’ll see what the authorities have to say. I assume you’ll be around for a half hour or so?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, merely turned toward the duty desk and signed in. Gracie watched as the lawyer was buzzed through a doorway and disappeared. An officer appeared and made an announcement about jailhouse visiting hours, and a number of the people followed him through a separate door and down a corridor. With most of the crowd gone, Pen and Gracie found seats on benches along one wall.

  “I’m itching to know what’s going on in there,” Gracie said.

  “For research on one of my novels, Benton once allowed me to sit in the observation room adjacent to an interrogation,” Pen offered. “They turn off the microphones when the client and attorney are in there alone, then most likely an officer or two will come in and begin the questioning. If they feel an arrest is imminent, someone from the prosecutor’s office may come along.”

  Gracie closed her eyes, trying not to imagine poor little Amber being grilled about the money. At least she had Kowzlowski on her side. The lawyer didn’t seem like she would take any guff from anyone. Thirty minutes ticked by in what felt like two hours.

  Finally, Mariah Kowzlowski emerged. The three moved to a relatively quiet corner. “They’re letting her out, partially on my recognizance, partly because one of the detectives has a wife who’s a big fan of a certain movie made by an Edward Zeckis. Amber’s dad, I gather.”

  “Really? I mean … that’s great,” Gracie said.

  “They confiscated her passport and she’s under orders not to leave Maricopa County.”

  Gracie made a face. The terms might not sit well with Amber or her parents.

  “Hey, she’s lucky not to be stuck inside while they dig around for evidence,” Kowzlowski said. “Anyway, there’s some paperwork and then they’ll send her out here. I’ve gotta get back to my office.”

  “Gracie will give her a ride home,” Pen said.

  Gracie nodded and watched the attorney leave the building. She’d spotted Mark Howard, the detective who’d been at the airport last night, heading toward the elevators.

  “I’ll meet you in a minute,” she told Pen as she dashed to catch the cop.

  “Detective Howard,” Gracie called out, just as he was about to press the elevator button.

  He turned. It took no more than a split second before recognition dawned. “You must be pleased. Your client got what she wanted.”

  Gracie wasn’t sure how to read the look on his face. “First of all, she’s a friend, not a client. The customs officials were mistaken.”

  “I know. I just wondered whether you were going to admit it to me.”

  She forced herself not to grit her teeth. He would notice.

  “Tell me this,” she said, stalling Howard from leaving. “Why would she be coming back into the US with the cash on her? If she took the money and got away, why wouldn’t she just stay away? It doesn’t make sense.”

  His cocky smile took a dip. “We’re still working the case. There are reasons for everything, and it’s my job to uncover them.”

  “But—”

  “Everything will come out later, when there’s a trial. I’m afraid I can’t discuss it with you. Good day.”

  Chapter 5

  Amber sank into the well-worn seat in Gracie’s minivan with a groan.

  “You need sleep,” Gracie said, starting the vehicle and making her way out of the downtown parking garage.

  “I need sleep.” The past two days had become a blur—the long international flight, the ordeal at Customs, the night in jail and the surreal quality of the police station and jail.

  The woman attorney, someone she’d never seen before in her life, scared her a little. She’d had no problem being assertive with the detective—the same one who’d showed up last night at the airport. He seemed all business, not antagonistic but not giving an inch either. At least the lawyer had pushed forward to getting Amber released. There were a ton of questions she would need to ask later.

  “Don’t nod off on me just yet,” Gracie said. “I know basically where your condo is, but I’m going to need directions once we get close.”

  “Um hm, that’s good.” Amber’s eyes closed as they entered the ramp for the 101 Loop.

  Two seconds later, even though the dashboard clock showed twenty minutes had gone by, Gracie tapped her shoulder. “We’re at the intersection of Goldwater and Scottsdale Road. Now what?”

  Amber rubbed her eyes and forced herself to look around. “Take a left.” She gave instructions for a series of turns, including a final one onto a down-sloping driveway that led to an underground parking garage. The automatic arm rose and Gracie made the turns through the gloomy lot, ending up at a space marked Visitors.

  “The elevator is over here. Sixth floor.” Amber pointed. “I guess the bright side is I have no luggage to haul inside.”

  She felt her voice crack a little at the realization that everything she’d brought back from Eu
rope was gone—the gifts she’d chosen for her friends, the cool new suitcase from Cody. She had her messenger bag with the company computer she was sworn to guard with her life, and her phone. At least her photos would be on there. She hoped. Her passport was gone, but the cops had been definite about that. She wasn’t to leave the county.

  “Want me to come up with you?” Gracie asked.

  “Please. I just need some reassurance that the world is normal. It means so much to me that you and Pen came this morning.” Again, that tight feeling in her throat as she pressed the elevator button marked 6.

  “We got together earlier,” Gracie said. “All of us. We want to help you figure this out.”

  “That cop—he’s not going to do anything to prove my innocence, is he?”

  “It’s his job to find a crime and a suspect and to arrest them. I get the feeling he thinks he’s on that path.”

  “And my lawyer? Who is she?”

  “Pen found her through Benton. Don’t worry. She’s gruff but she’s supposed to be really good.”

  The elevator stopped and they got out and walked down a long corridor of plain brown doors, like the interior hallway of an expensive but unimpressive hotel.

  “Hey, she got me out of there. I can learn to love her.” Fumbling through her bag she came up with a key and opened the door of number 6023. “You haven’t been here yet? Gosh, I can’t believe I never had everyone over for a housewarming or anything. My job consumed every moment, I guess.”

  “It’s okay. We’re here for you, all together again.”

  They walked into a tiny foyer which opened into a spacious living room. Gracie noted a long white sofa that faced a wall of windows, with Camelback Mountain in the distance. There were two side chairs and a wall-mounted TV on the north wall. Ahead, sat the small dining table for two that had served as Amber’s desk in the old apartment; it stood adjacent to a spacious kitchen done in all the latest granite and stainless steel. A narrow balcony opened off the dining area, revealing lush outdoor plantings maintained by the condo association, along with the balconies of more than a dozen other condos that faced the cool inner courtyard.

  “I’ve used one stove burner for my tea kettle,” Amber said, with a wave to her left, “and the microwave. Kind of lame, huh, that I don’t use a fantastic kitchen like this.”

  “I get it,” Gracie said. “Careers like yours can eat up a lot of your time.”

  “It’s not just that,” Amber told her. “I could work from home, at least a few days a week, but I’ve just never taken the time to make this place home yet.”

  “You will. You know, a few touches like pillows and some art. A few little conveniences and comfort pieces—you’ll get the place feeling as if you’ve lived here forever.”

  Amber yawned. “Someday.”

  “Hey, I’m going to let you get some sleep. If you crawl in bed right now, you’ll feel a lot better by dinner time. How about if I bring food and come back with the rest of the ladies? Seven-ish?”

  Amber nodded, leaving Gracie to let herself out. She walked down the short hall from the dining area, bypassing the empty bedroom she’d planned as her home office one day, if she ever got things organized. A guest bathroom opened on the left, an equally sterile space where she’d done no more than hang a couple of towels. Gracie was right—she needed to begin adding the personal touches that would make this a home.

  The second, larger bedroom was hers, and here she had splurged on a top-of-the-line bed and chic furniture that had appealed to her the moment she saw it in the showroom. The climate-controlled condo allowed her to heap on a thick comforter and a couple of angora throws, despite the outside heat. It was the one room where those comfort touches Gracie had mentioned were already in evidence.

  She dropped her purse on the dresser, pulling out her phone and checking messages. Only one—her mother, wondering if the flight had arrived on time. Nothing from Cody, which sent a little frisson of worry through her. She fired off a quick text to her mother, promising a call later, and one to the new boyfriend: Everything okay? Did you catch your flight?

  Then she walked into her en suite bathroom and peeled off her travel-worn clothing, dropping everything into the hamper and turning up the shower as hot as she could stand it. Fifteen minutes and liberal amounts of body wash and shampoo carried away the physical residue of the past forty-eight hours.

  With one final glance at her phone screen (no messages), she crawled between her bamboo sheets and went dead to the world until her eyes fluttered open and she realized the room was in twilight. Six o’clock, according to her phone. If she caught the parents during their nightly cocktail hour, the news she had to impart might go better.

  As for reaching Cody, there was no point in trying now. If he was still in Europe it was the wee hours of the morning, and she knew—from body-tingling experience—that he slept so soundly he’d never hear his phone. It would be at least four hours before she could reach him—maybe more, if he was on a plane right now.

  “This is ridiculous,” she said out loud. “I’ve never been the girl who sat by the phone, pining away. Let him call me.”

  She ignored the pang that went through her and ordered Siri to “Call parents.”

  “Hey, baby!” came her father’s booming voice. “How was the trip?”

  Before she could think of the best way to respond, her mother’s softer voice with its hints of her Black Caribbean heritage came through. “Hi, honey. Did you get some sleep on the plane?”

  Amber physically tilted the corners of her mouth upward, hoping a smile would come through in her voice. She couldn’t avoid the subject she didn’t want to broach; her father could read her like a book.

  “Well, the trip was mostly great. No, I didn’t get any sleep on the plane, so I have some catching up to do, and by the way they stopped me at Customs with some shocking news.”

  “What’s that?” Of course, Dad would be the one to pick up the negative. She felt her resolve crumble.

  “Oh, Daddy …” The story spilled out, starting with the moment that officer, Abbott, had discovered the hidden cash in her bag. There was no way to soften it and no way her father wasn’t going to lead her through a series of what-happened-next questions. All too soon, they knew of her detainment and the investigation.

  “We’ll be on the next plane,” Edward Zeckis announced with finality.

  “There’s nothing—”

  “Amber, listen to your dad. We’ll come. He can check out this attorney they assigned you, and I’ll bring my healing crystals to give you an energy cleansing treatment.”

  Amber felt her eyes roll. There was absolutely no point arguing with the Greek tycoon and the Caribbean shaman.

  “At least wait and get a morning flight. I’m going to eat a bite and then fall right back to sleep.” The half-truth gave her a twelve-hour reprieve.

  Chapter 6

  Gracie spent a productive afternoon, first contacting Pen, Sandy, and Mary. All were eager to help Amber in whatever way they could.

  “Her place isn’t easy to find and that parking garage is a nightmare to navigate, so if you don’t mind carpooling in the minivan …”

  They met at six-thirty in the parking lot of Desert Trust Bank, Sandy’s place of employment. Mary brought an assortment of Thai food in takeout boxes, which she’d picked up on her way; Sandy and Pen carried several overstuffed shopping bags with mysterious gifts; Gracie had left her family to fend for themselves with the help of two large pepperoni pizzas.

  At 6:45 they were rolling into the underground parking garage and Gracie (after only two wrong turns) managed to find the correct section of the building and an available visitor parking slot. Amber buzzed them up to the sixth floor and met them at her door.

  “Well, I have to say, you look a hundred percent more perky than you did a few hours ago,” Gracie said, pulling their young friend into a hug.

  “Thanks. Other than the fact that my parents are coming in the morning, I
feel pretty great too.”

  “Oh, honey,” Mary said, “you’ll be glad to see them when they get here.” She held up the food containers and Amber led the way toward the kitchen.

  “I know. At least I told them everything up front. Dad will have tonight to marshal his forces, and Mom can pack a bunch of cleansing herbs and all that woo-woo stuff she believes in.”

  “Let’s eat,” suggested Pen, “and then—there are presents!”

  “Mostly, we want to figure out how we can help,” Sandy told Amber. She draped an arm across the younger woman’s shoulders.

  Amber squinted and shook off the emotion prickling at her eyes. “Yes, food will be good. I’m definitely at a low energy point, as my mom would say.”

  Mary and Gracie took charge in the kitchen, warming the food and locating plates.

  “We can take everything to the living room,” Amber said. “Afraid my two dinky dining chairs won’t cut it.”

  “At least we can put one of the gifts to use right away,” Pen said, holding up bags. Out came two bottles of wine and a set of crystal glasses. “Rinse the glassware, Gracie, and we shall be all set.”

  They settled around the coffee table and toasted to Amber’s new home and the fact that the five were together for the first time in months.

  “Okay, I’m dying of curiosity,” Mary said, pausing between bites of her pad Thai. “Other than the ending, how was the trip? I caught tidbits about Paris, Amsterdam, London … What the hey?”

  Amber pushed rice around on her plate with her chopsticks. “Well, it started out as business. B-G—um, Blackwell-Gorse sent me, along with a couple of their sales reps. We called on customers who are contemplating massive expansion in their tech offerings, so the sales team was there to put the glitz on it all. I was sent along in case there were technical questions and to demonstrate some of our capabilities.”

  “Sounds fun,” Sandy said.