Scottsdale Heat: a romantic light-hearted murder mystery (Laura Black Mysteries Book 1)

by B A Trimmer

  “OK,” she said. “Well, the exterior fabric and the hardware were OK. Maybe those parts were even real Farucci. But there were several parts of the bag nowhere near Farucci standards.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Well, first of all, it felt wrong. Real Farucci’s are light and have a very smooth and balanced feeling. They just sort of swing as you walk with them. This bag felt too heavy and wasn’t balanced at all, like maybe the straps were stitched in the wrong position. And, there was a cheap leather insert sewn into the bottom. The quality of the leather and the stitching was nowhere near the quality of stitching on the rest of the bag. It seemed like they were using the leather to stiffen the bottom of the purse so it didn’t sag when you put a wallet in it. You could also tell it was a fake Farucci because they used a cheap interior fabric, that’s always a dead giveaway.”

  “I take it you didn’t tell Alex it wasn’t real?” I asked.

  Her eyes softened. “Oh no, I didn’t have the heart. You should have seen him. He was so proud of it. I didn’t care he gave me a bag he pulled out of the trash, or wherever he got it. It was just sweet he thought of me. He thought he had found a real Farucci, a two thousand dollar bag. It would have crushed him if he found out it was just a knock-off.”

  “Where is the bag now? The fake Farucci?”

  I saw that Danica was searching her mind. I didn’t want to make it worse for her, but if she had thrown the bag away, the Russians would probably kill Alex, but not before I choked her to death first.

  “Umm, I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” she said.

  “Come on Danica,” I said. “Think. When was the last time you had it?”

  “Well, the only time I took the bag out was when we went to Nexxus for champagne. That was two nights after Alex gave it to me. We went to celebrate Alex getting his trust fund money. I couldn’t help noticing our waitress kept staring at it. I could tell she knew it was a knock-off. It was so embarrassing. While we were sitting there drinking the second bottle of champagne, I decided to get a real Farucci and get rid of the fake. Alex would want me to use the bag whenever we went out, but I just couldn’t be seen in public with a fake Farucci.”

  “So you went shopping for a real one? When was this, the next day?”

  “That’s right. I remember I didn’t know what to do with the fake. I had the bag in the car with me when I drove to Biltmore Fashion Park. I was thinking I had to get rid of it so Alex wouldn’t find it. I stopped by work first to pick up my Cowgirl costume. I needed to drop it off at the dry cleaners. A guy had thrown up on it.”

  Ughh, gross!

  She saw the look on my face.

  “It happens sometimes,” she said. “Oh, now I remember. I stuck the fake in my locker at the club.”

  Yes!

  Mentally, I pumped my fist up and down and made mental whooo-hooo noises. Outwardly, I did my best to remain calm.

  “OK, that’s great,” I said. “Now then, is it still there?”

  “I don’t know. Christy saw me put it in the locker. She dances at the club too. I’ve known her since I started there. She said it was a hot-looking purse. I told her it was a fake, but she said it looked real enough to her. I told her she could have it if she wanted it. She told me I was sweet and she’d pick it up later. I think she knows my locker combination, so unless she forgot she might have it by now.”

  I felt my heart sink again. It looked like I had found DiCenzo’s missing bag of diamonds and now it was most likely gone again.

  Why does my life suck so much?

  Danica was watching me. She could see something was wrong.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Why is a fake Farucci is so important? There isn’t anything in it and it can’t be worth more than about thirty dollars.”

  I decided to level with her, more or less.

  “Anthony DiCenzo is looking for that bag. He was sorta responsible keeping it safe, and then it disappeared. I had a meeting with him and he asked me to help him get the bag back. He’s not the kind of guy you refuse.”

  Danica’s eyes got so big I was surprised they didn’t fall out of her head. Her breathing sped up and her face became a light crimson.

  “You mean the bag that I loved, and the bag I was embarrassed by, and then the bag I gave away? That was Tony DiCenzo’s bag? Tough Tony? The mobster?” Her voice came in a loud but squeaky shout. “Oh My God! You’ve got to get it back to him! Nobody messes with Tough Tony and I mean nobody. People who mess with Tough Tony have a habit of disappearing. You had a meeting with him? Oh my God, Alex? Do you think Tough Tony took Alex?”

  “When I talked with DiCenzo, he said his people didn’t have Alex, but I get the feeling we’ll need to get the bag back to DiCenzo before Alex is released.”

  Danica stood up and began pacing back and forth, not knowing what to do.

  “Look,” I said. “This should be easy. Is your friend Christy working today?”

  She shook her head back and forth. “No, it’s her day off.”

  “Why don’t you call her and see if she has the bag.”

  “I can’t. She doesn’t believe in phones. But, I know where she lives.”

  “Great,” I said. “Why don’t you go over to her house and see if she has it. I’ll go to Jeannie’s and see if the bag is still in the locker. You call me if you get it and I’ll call you if I get it. Before you go, call the manager over at Jeannie’s. Let him know I’m coming to get something out of your locker. Is there a lock on it?”

  “Yeah, you need to keep things locked up there. The combination is 36-24-34.” She paused and blushed again. “My measurements.”

  I just looked at her.

  “Well,” she said, “I wanted a combination I could remember.”

  ~~~~

  I almost flew the eight miles down Scottsdale road to the club. I pulled into Jeannie’s lot, parked in the first spot I saw, and ran to the door. The bouncers knew me by now and let me in without a word.

  I made my way backstage and found the door to the dressing room. An unfamiliar bouncer stood at the entrance, looking very unhappy I was there. My explanation that I had permission to get a purse out of Danica’s locker didn’t seem to impress him. I talked to him for five long minutes before he ultimately called the manager to see what to do about me. Fortunately, Danica had put a call through to him and I was allowed to go in.

  The dressing room was larger than I expected. There were four make-up chairs on either side of the room, each in front of a well-lighted mirror. Several of the mirrors were covered with photos of kids, men, and pets. I counted six women in the room. Two were changing costumes. One was gunking up her eyes with mascara in front of one of the make-up mirrors. The last three were having a conversation about a guy who had dated all three of them, but not at the same time, as far as I could tell. Nobody seemed to care I was there. I guess they supposed if the bouncer let me in, I must belong there.

  I went to the woman who was in the make-up chair. She had just finished with the mascara and was now outlining her lips with a dark crayon.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  “Oh, hi,” she said. “I’m Cheri. Is this your first day? Just go and grab an empty locker. The costume racks are two doors down the hall, on the right. Go and pick out whatever you think will fit. I’ll help with your make-up if you’d like.”

  I was getting frustrated. I just wanted to get to the damned locker.

  “Thanks, but I’m just I’m looking for Danica’s locker. She sent me in to get something out of it.”

  “Too bad,” the woman said looking me over, “a lot of the guys like skinny girls and you’d make some good tips. Danica’s locker is the one on the far right, but I think it has a lock on it.”

  “That’s OK,” I said. “I’ve got the combination.”

  With my heart pounding, I went to the locker. It had a cheap dial lock with a stainless steel body and a black dial. It was the kind of lock we had back in high school gym class.


  I looked at the lock and realized I had forgotten how to open them. Was it left-right-left or right-left-right? After the first number, did the dial have to go around once to the second number, or twice? It took me three tries until I heard the soft metallic snap and the lock opened.

  Danica’s locker was stuffed to the bursting point. Clothes were crammed onto the rack and shoes were stuffed in every possible opening. I started pulling out things at random. There was a sequined red, white, and blue outfit with a matching bikini top and thong bottom. The outfit was held together with Velcro. For quick tear-away action, I assumed.

  I took the outfit out of the locker and tossed it on a chair. Next was a blue silk harem girl costume with the same Velcro fasteners. This outfit joined the first on the chair. Next, I pulled out the red and white leather cowgirl outfit. I looked, but didn’t see any throw-up stains on it. That went on the chair too.

  At the bottom of the locker was a pair of red cowboy boots, probably for the cowgirl costume. I pulled out the boots.

  Then I saw it. Underneath the boots was a black bag. I pulled it out. There was the Double “F” on the clasp signifying the bag was indeed a Farucci, real or fake.

  I was so excited I almost squealed. I closed my eyes and held the bag to my chest, waiting for my heart to slow. I allowed a tiny thought creep into my head. Perhaps things would work out? Perhaps Tony DiCenzo wouldn’t have me hunted down? Maybe I could still get Alex back alive? Naaah, it was too much to hope for. I decided I would just stick to finding out what was in the bag and hope everyone came out in one piece.

  I was dying of curiosity about what was in the bag, but I didn’t know who might be watching me. I took the bag by its straps and swung it back and forth. Danica was right. It did feel too heavy and it did seem out of balance. I’ve never owned a Farucci, but I was so pleased I could feel that for myself.

  I looked inside the bag and saw it was empty. I also saw the leather piece sewn to the bottom, although to me it looked like it belonged there. I felt the sides and bottom of the bag but I didn’t feel anything that was lumpy or felt out of place.

  I wanted to rip the bag in half to see if anything was inside, but I decided the dressing room of a strip club probably wasn’t the best place. There, I thought, that was a good decision. Tony DiCenzo would have been proud of me.

  My heart was still pounding and I felt like throwing up as I carefully returned the clothes to the locker and walked back to my car. My first thought was the office would be a good place to meet up with Danica and find out if anything was in the bag.

  I pulled out my phone and gave her a call. No answer. I supposed she was still busy looking for Christy, wherever she lived. I left a message to meet at the office and gave her the address.

  ~~~~

  I drove into downtown Scottsdale and pulled into my parking space behind the office. I looked around to see if I had been tailed. I didn’t see anyone. Of course, that didn’t mean anything. These guys had been following me for days and I never knew.

  I unlocked back security door and went in. I pushed the door shut and I felt relieved when I heard the heavy lock snap into place. Sophie was up front typing at her computer, but Gina was nowhere to be seen.

  “Sophie,” I said. “Where’s Gina?”

  “She’s still out on the interview. I thought she’d be back by now.”

  Great, of all the times for her to be gone.

  I held the bag up. Sophie looked at it and her eyes grew wide.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “You’re not going to believe how I got it and you’re gonna poop kittens when you see what’s inside. We’ve got to open it up. Is Lenny here?”

  “Naaah, he’s out greasing palms at the Courthouse. He won’t be back for another hour or two.”

  “Good, that works. Give Gina a call and have her get back here as soon as she can. I’ll lock the doors. We can use Lenny’s office.”

  ~~~~

  Two minutes later we were both sitting at Lenny’s desk. I grabbed a letter opener that had once belonged to J. Edgar Hoover and used it to rip open the seam holding the leather insert to the bottom of the bag. It was sewn in better than I had originally thought and it took a while to pull it apart.

  “So, are you going to tell me what’s supposed to be in there?” Sophie asked, sticking her head halfway in the bag.

  “Hey,” I said, “move your head. What’s in this bag is maybe nothing, but what’s in this bag is maybe something that will save my butt.”

  With one last yank, the leather pulled free. I reached in and jerked on a cloth-wrapped bundle that was glued to the bottom of the bag. With a ripping sound, the bundle tore free.

  I held it up to look at it. It was about six or seven inches wide, a foot long, and inch thick. Surprisingly, it was flexible and supple. I supposed this helped hide the fact it was sewn into the bottom of the purse. A stiff bundle would have given it away.

  I took out a pair of scissors and cut the cloth away to reveal a large piece of opaque blue gel, sorta like a big gel shoe cushion. I felt around on a corner of the gel and found a hard lump. I pushed on the backside of the lump and something popped out the front. It fell on Lenny’s desk with a gentle Clink.

  Sophie and I just sat there, stunned. We both stared at it for a full ten seconds. Sophie then reached down and gave it a light flick with her finger. It rolled a few inches across the desk then came to a stop.

  “Umm, is that a diamond?”

  “Sure looks like one,” I replied.

  “It’s a big one.”

  “It sure is.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one sparkle quite like that.”

  “Me either.”

  “Think there’re any more diamonds in that big hunk of blue goo you’re holding?”

  “Yup.”

  “Any idea how many more?”

  “Oh, two hundred and fifty, maybe three hundred.”

  “You’re shitting me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Umm, you wouldn’t mind telling me a little bit more about this, would you?”

  “Sure,” I said, popping out another diamond from the strip of blue gel. It too fell onto the desk with a Clink.

  “These diamonds belong to members of the Russian Mafia, who have kidnapped and are torturing Alex Sternwood in an effort to get them back.”

  Clink.

  “These are the same Russians who tried to kidnap me out by Saguaro Lake.”

  Clink.

  “The Russians brought the diamonds to Scottsdale to sell them to two brothers from a group called the Consortium.”

  Clink.

  “These are the same two who kidnapped and threatened to kill me.”

  Clink.

  “Alex stole the bag from the Russians in the lobby of the Scottsdale Blue Palms. Well, to be technical, he switched it with an identical bag he had just bought or stolen from the hotel dress shop.”

  Clink.

  “Inside the bag Alex found three diamonds and a computer disk. Alex didn’t know the bag contained anything else, so he gave it to Danica, as a present.”

  Clink.

  “Danica thought the bag was a fake Farucci and was too embarrassed to be seen in public with it. So, she bought another bag, a ‘real’ Farucci. She put this one in her locker at Jeannie’s Cabaret, where it’s been sitting since last week.”

  Clink.

  “The Russians found out from DiCenzo that Alex had the bag. They ransacked his apartment looking for it. Under orders, they killed the diamond courier, cut off his hands, and left him in Alex’s apartment. They did this as a message and warning to everybody they were serious about getting the bag back.”

  Clink.

  “Unfortunately, Alex walked in on them and they took the opportunity to kidnap him.”

  Clink.

  “Alex must have told the Russians he gave the bag to Danica. They searched her house on Saturday and took the Farucci she had just bought. I imagine
they got pretty upset when they found out there was nothing in it.”

  Clink.

  “Anthony DiCenzo, the mobster, is brokering the sale of the diamonds between the Russians and the Consortium. He asked me to help him find the bag and get the diamonds back before more people get killed, or worse, before everybody gets upset and goes home.”

  Clink.

  “Oh, umm, OK,” Sophie said. “Thanks for clearing that up!”

  We sat in silence as I pushed out diamonds, one by one, Clink, Clink, Clink, from the blue gel. The diamonds were starting to form a pretty little pile.

  As I was pushing, Sophie picked up one of the diamonds and rolled it between her fingers. “How big do you think these are?”

  “According to DiCenzo, they’re all three to five carats and most are internally flawless.”

  “Not bad. Did he happen to mention what color grade they are?”

  “Must have slipped his mind.”

  I sat there for almost fifteen minutes popping out diamonds. My fingers were starting to get sore. Sophie had turned to Lenny’s computer and was looking up something on the Internet.

  With a final push, the last diamond popped out and landed on the glittery pile.

  “Any idea of how much is there, all together?” Sophie asked.

  “Oh, about half a pound,” I said.

  “Oh really? Half a pound, huh?” Sophie said, and started punching numbers into the calculator on Lenny’s desk. After a moment she stopped.

  “OK,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Half a pound of diamonds is roughly two hundred and thirty grams. I looked it up and there are five carats to a gram, so there are a little over eleven hundred carats there. Now, according to the Internet, a diamond that is in the three to five carat range, is internally flawless, has an ideal cut, and a good color is worth about $33,000 a carat. This means your pretty little pile there is worth about, umm, thirty-seven million dollars!”

  Thirty-seven million dollars?

  Shit!

  We both just sat there for a minute. My brain had temporarily gone numb. Sophie was pushing the pile of diamonds around on the desk with the tips of her long fingernails. I watched as the diamonds sparkled.

  “What’s going on? And what the hell is on Lenny’s desk?” a loud voice from behind us demanded.