Gypped

by Carol Higgins Clark

  At the other end of the room, two actors came through the door, carrying hanging bags and looking lost.

  “Hello,” Frank called, walking toward them. “Welcome. We’ve got a changing room. I’d love to get a look at your wardrobe. . . .”

  Heather and Rich were in the back office. Rich finished a call.

  “Did the money get wired out?” Heather asked.

  “Not yet,” Rich said. He looked at his phone. “Zelda sent another text.”

  41

  After the police left, Zelda took a shower, which made her feel more human, while Regan and Jack collected the drops of tea on the nightstand.

  “Let’s hope we don’t need to test this,” Jack said quietly as he twisted the cap on the bottle. He hugged Regan. “We don’t need any more trouble.”

  Norman was still sorting papers. When he finished putting everything in order, the four of them began to review Zelda’s statements together.

  It didn’t take long for the situation to become upsetting.

  Rich had set up three different accounts for Zelda. When they started looking at the monthly statements, they realized that regular wire transfers had started in January, two months after Zelda received the $8 million. The money had been wired to different banks, but Zelda had no idea what the transfers were for. With each passing month the amount wired out increased.

  “He must have been testing the waters,” Zelda said incredulously, “to see if I was paying attention. I wasn’t, so the transfers started getting larger.”

  “Did you sign anything that gave Rich authority to make these withdrawals?” Jack asked.

  “Not that I remember. I signed a lot of papers. I didn’t always read the fine print. It’s my fault. I trusted Rich. He told me that I should focus on getting my business off the ground and spend my time doing what I do best. Coaching. He’d worry about my finances.”

  Regan hit the table with her palm. “Another ruse! Con men like Rich say that all the time, especially to people in the arts. Whenever someone handling your money feeds you that line, run as fast as you can in the other direction. What they’re really saying is, ‘Do what you do best while I do what I do best—rip you off.’ ”

  Zelda looked frightened. “Wow, Regan.”

  “I’m sorry to upset you. But it’s true.”

  “I’d better freeze my accounts this minute.”

  “Let’s do it,” Jack agreed.

  When Zelda got on the phone with the bank, she was told that a $2 million transfer was in the works.

  “What?” Zelda shrieked. “No! I want that canceled immediately!”

  Jack took the phone, identified himself, and asked to speak to a bank officer, who assured him that the transaction was canceled. He told the officer not to give any information to Rich Willowwood, who would be notified that he was no longer Zelda Horn’s financial advisor. Zelda faxed a letter to the bank with the same information. She tried to call Rich for an explanation, and sent him a text, but he didn’t respond.

  “What do we do now?” Zelda asked anxiously.

  “At least he no longer has access to your money,” Regan said, trying to reassure her.

  “But looking at those statements ... we haven’t added everything up but he already transferred several hundred thousand dollars.”

  “We’ll get a forensic accountant to find out exactly where that money went,” Regan said. “Hopefully Rich put some of the money into investments you’re not aware of.”

  Zelda shook her head. “I doubt it. I can’t believe this is happening. If I get my hands on him—”

  “His office is in Sherman Oaks?” Jack asked, looking down at a statement. “Have you ever been there?”

  “No.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “Santa Monica. I don’t even have the address. Last year I wanted to send him a Christmas card and he told me to send it to the office. In the back of my mind it always bothered me that he wouldn’t give me his address. Should I call Gladys and ask if she knows anything about these transfers?”

  “You might not reach her,” Regan said, then added, “Gladys is shooting a commercial tonight.”

  “What?” Zelda asked.

  Regan told them about her conversation with Maggie.

  “Gladys is in a commercial for a vitamin company?” Norman asked, incredulous.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Regan said. “It does seem funny given the timing of Zelda’s investment. But Maggie’s the one who sent in Gladys’s photo. Gladys thinks she’s being taken out for a birthday dinner.”

  Zelda looked at Regan. “A birthday dinner? I feel terrible. I didn’t realize it’s her birthday. That’s a good reason to call her.” Zelda picked up her phone and dialed Gladys’s number. No answer. She left a message. “Hi, Gladys. It’s Zelda. Happy birthday! I should have had a cake for you at the party last night. Call me when you can. Bye.”

  “How sweet,” Norman muttered.

  “Now what?” Zelda asked. “This is devastating. I can’t figure out how he expected to get away with withdrawing two million dollars from my account. Was it all going into the vitamin company? This is just unbelievable! I don’t care if I signed a piece of paper or not!”

  Norman pointed to the glass bottle containing the drops of tea. “Hmmm. Rich knew you usually signed papers without really studying them, but he couldn’t take the chance you’d really read them this time. He had to make sure you were a little out of it.”

  “But why now? I’d realize pretty quickly the money was gone. Two million dollars is twenty-five percent of all my money! I would never have put that much in one investment.”

  “Zelda, it’s Friday night,” Jack said. “Nothing more can be done about the wire transfers until Monday. But I can call my office now and ask them to start checking Rich’s background.”

  “That would be great. Thank you. I’d hate to have to wait until Monday to keep going with this.” She smiled wistfully. “It’s going to be a long weekend anyway.”

  “I heard,” Jack said sympathetically. “Regan told me. That situation with your father’s wife might turn out okay. But if you’d like, I can have my office start looking into her background as well.”

  Zelda hesitated. “I feel so guilty about it now. What happened to Regan today could have been tragic. Rich wiring money out of my accounts is terrible on a completely different level. Obviously. Those things are so much worse than being upset about who my father married. Bobby Jo is his wife. I can’t have you do that.”

  “You can’t stand her,” Norman reminded Zelda. “And don’t forget they got married at a drive-through chapel sitting in the back of a cab!”

  He does speak his mind, Regan thought.

  “Okay, then.” Zelda sighed. “But only because Norman would never let me hear the end of it if I said no.”

  “Perfect!” Norman cried, patting Zelda’s arm. “Jack, I’ll write down that information for you.”

  “Thanks,” Jack said, following him into the kitchen.

  “It seems like ages ago we were on that game show, doesn’t it?”

  “A lifetime ago,” Zelda answered sadly.

  “I didn’t say that to make you feel bad.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  Regan’s phone rang. She picked it up and answered.

  “Hello.”

  “Regan, its Maggie!”

  “Oh, hi, Maggie.”

  Zelda sat up in her chair.

  “I’m at the shoot,” Maggie whispered. “Gladys seemed surprised when we pulled up to the warehouse but she thanked me for what I’d done. The minute we walked in the door she told me she had to use the bathroom. I decided I might as well, too, and followed a few steps behind. She went straight to a back office! Rich’s girlfriend answered the door! I could see Rich sitting at a table. Isn’t that weird?”

  “Yes, it is,” Regan answered quickly. “What’s the address?” She scrawled it on a piece of paper. “We’re on our way.”
/>   42

  The commercial shoot wasn’t going well. At the moment they were filming the couch potato couple in their final scene. No one could accuse the actor of not being committed to his work. Weights in hand, he looked jubilant as he and his TV wife ran around the couch. Seized by an actorly impulse, he turned to blow her a loving kiss, tripped, and fell to the ground. On the way down his forehead grazed the ragged corner of the plywood coffee table. Several pieces of fruit that had been borrowed from the crafts services table fell to the ground and rolled away.

  “Cut!” Frank called.

  Crew members rushed to the actor’s aid. The thespian jumped up and started running in place. His forehead had been scraped. “I’m fine. Perfectly fine! Just a few splinters.”

  The makeup girl, armed with tweezers, removed the splinters and patted his nose with a sponge. “Good as new.”

  “YES, I AM!” the actor bellowed. “Ready to go.”

  Maggie, watching from the side, shook her head. This guy must be desperate for work. But I should talk. I make up a story to get Gladys here and have to shop for an outfit for her, just so I could act in something like this? Maggie looked around. Where is she? I know she’s not thrilled to be an actress named Ava. I hope Regan and the gang arrive soon. That should be interesting.

  43

  Jack was driving Zelda’s Mercedes up the 405 freeway with Regan in the passenger seat. Zelda had insisted on getting in the back with Norman.

  “I’m so excited,” Norman announced. “But what do we do when we get there?”

  “Don’t worry,” Jack told him. “If Zelda were a two million dollar investor in these vitamins, she’d have a right to stop by the commercial shoot.” Jack winked at Zelda in the mirror. “Right, Zelda?”

  Zelda grunted. “Right.”

  “She also has a right to ask Rich a few questions about the company. Then we’ll move on to other interesting topics.”

  “Like wire transfers,” Regan said flippantly.

  Zelda patted her bag. “The statements are right here.”

  “Maybe we’ll follow Mr. Willowwood home tonight,” Jack suggested. “See where he lives.”

  Norman clapped his hands. “That’d be good!”

  “We’re not going to let him off the hook,” Jack promised, putting on the blinker and changing lanes. “Not with what he tried to pull today.”

  44

  Rich and Heather were closeted in the back office at the warehouse, afraid to show their faces. Not with that girl who worked at the party last night in their midst. What bad luck to have her send in Glady’s picture! How can Gladys be in the commercial? It’s too dangerous. When these vitamins fail, and we know they will before long, you don’t want the company bookkeeper onscreen. No. You want the business to fade away without a trace. A new venture is just around the corner.

  “He hasn’t called back,” Rich said nervously.

  “He will,” Heather said, trying to sound confident.

  “It’s never taken this long for a wire transfer. Why didn’t it go through yet?”

  “There’s probably a good reason.”

  Rich’s phone rang. It was his contact at the bank, the one who always made sure things went smoothly. For a price.

  “Hello,” Rich said.

  “I’m sorry, Rich,” he said in a hushed tone. “The transfer was canceled and the bank was informed that you are no longer the financial adviser for Zelda Horn.”

  Rich’s face crumbled.

  “And I’m afraid that our friends are not going to be happy when the two million doesn’t arrive. Maybe you should abandon ship.”

  45

  After they exited the 405, Jack followed the instructions given by Zelda’s GPS. Five miles later they found themselves in a remote, poorly lit industrial neighborhood.

  “You have reached your destination,” the GPS informed them.

  “It’s got to be one of these warehouses,” Regan said, looking around.

  To the right they saw a car pull out of the parking lot, make a right, then sail past them.

  “That was Rich!” Zelda cried.

  “We’ll follow him.” Jack stepped on the gas.

  “He’s going so fast!” Norman observed.

  “I hope he doesn’t recognize the car,” Zelda said.

  “We’ll be okay,” Jack assured her. “He’s not looking back.”

  “Rich, oh my God!” Heather wailed. “Oh my God.”

  “We’ll get the money we stashed, then head to the airport and get away until this blows over. It will, don’t worry. We’ll have the other money soon.”

  “I hope my parents aren’t home.”

  “If they are, make up a story. You’re good at that.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  Rich was reaching speeds that were much too dangerous to keep up with. Jack could see the car in the distance as he asked Regan to call 911. “This guy is bad enough. We don’t need him crashing into a vehicle full of innocent people.”

  Rich sped into the driveway of his destination. Heather jumped out, keys in hand. Rich followed, leaving the car running. Heather unlocked the door and they ran into the house.

  “Hi, Daddy,” she said, rushing past her father. He was watching television.

  “Hi,” he grunted, barely noticing.

  Heather swung around the corner and started down the stairs to the basement, surprised the light was on.

  Her mother screamed.

  “Mom, what are you doing?” Heather asked as she ran over to the bookshelf, reached for a secret latch, and pulled the unit away from the wall.

  Petunia, a yellow highlighter in her hand, had been sitting at her desk reading The Chiseled Chiseler. “What are you doing? I didn’t know we had a secret closet!”

  “I had it installed before you moved in. I just have to grab a few things and we’ll be on our way.” Heather started stuffing cash in a bag.

  I was wrong about the recessive gene, Petunia thought.

  “Hello, Mrs. Hedges,” Rich said as he flew by her desk. “Heather, let me help you.”

  “Mom, what have you got going on down here?” Heather asked as she looked around, trying to decide what else she should take with her.

  “Nothing special.”

  There were two police cars in the driveway. Jack asked the officers to give him a minute before they went in. One of them had clocked Rich at 100 miles per hour.

  Regan, Jack, Norman, and Zelda hurried up the walk. The front door of the house was wide open. Zelda knocked.

  “Door’s open,” Clarence grunted, never taking his eyes off the baseball game. San Francisco was ahead by one run.

  “Are Heather and Rich here?” Zelda asked.

  “Downstairs.”

  “Thanks.”

  Zelda, Jack, Regan, and Norman filed past him, then hurried down the basement steps.

  Petunia screamed again.

  Rich turned and glared at Zelda. “What are you doing here?” he spat. Heather was crouched down inside a small closet. A closet that you’d never know existed. When you closed the door it disappeared behind a bookcase.

  “What are you doing here? What were you planning to do with my two million dollars?” Zelda demanded.

  Two million dollars! I’m in the wrong business, Petunia thought.

  “Get out of here,” Heather barked, pushing herself up. “This is private property.”

  “How about my property?” Zelda moved toward the closet.

  Heather blocked the doorway. But she couldn’t hide the row of shelves on the back of the open door, lined with neatly labeled binders. Zelda turned. “What do we have here? Oh, how interesting. Last Will and Testament of Florence Natalie. A binder with my name. A binder with Norman’s name?”

  Norman jumped. “What did I do?”

  A book on a table caught Regan’s eye. She inched closer. Other books, CDs, and autographed photos from celebrities were also neatly displayed. AUCTION ITEMS (FOR THE INTERNET!) was written in
bold red letters on a piece of computer paper. Regan smiled, picked up her mother’s book, and tapped Petunia on the shoulder.

  “Yes,” Petunia said, turning away from Zelda and Heather and Rich’s argument.

  “You like her books?”

  “Very much.”

  “She’s my mother.”

  Petunia screamed once again.

  On the stairs they could hear footsteps. Two police officers appeared.

  “We’re here to arrest the driver of the vehicle outside that reached speeds of....”

  You can run, Rich, Regan thought, but you can’t hide. We got you.

  46

  All the files and cash in the hidden closet were seized from Petunia’s basement. Not her auction items, she was given a pass on that. They weren’t included in the search warrant the police had obtained.

  “I told Maggie we would head back to the commercial shoot,” Regan said as their group got in Zelda’s car. “I want to look for any evidence Rich and Heather may have left behind.”

  “The more evidence the better!” Norman said. “I can’t wait to see them in court.”

  When they walked into the warehouse, Maggie came running over. She’d been on the lookout for them.

  “Rich and Heather ran out the back door,” she whispered excitedly. “They told the director they had an emergency. I can tell the director thinks they’re jerks. And Gladys took off right after they left. She called a cab! One of the crew members did my scene with me. We’re almost finished.”

  “Where’s the office?” Regan asked.

  “In the back. Follow me.”

  Quietly they crossed the cement floor, avoiding numerous cables and wires. In a far corner, bright lights were shining on an actor holding up a bottle of Victorious Vitamins. You’re wasting your time, Regan thought.

  Maggie stopped in front of the office door, slowly opened it, then flicked on the light.

  The room was small, with cement block walls, a harsh overhead fluorescent light, a metal table, and four chairs. Two empty paper coffee cups had been left on the table.