“Hey, where are you going?” Bella asked.
I stopped and realized that the other employees who’d clocked in with us weren’t heading out to the sales floor.
“We got a meeting,” Bella said. “Didn’t you see the sign by the time clock?”
Two meetings in one day?
Now that was some serious b.s.
I moved along with the crowd through the hallway, past the store managers’ offices, and into the training room. Rows of chairs were set up theater style. As per my personal policy, I headed for the back row. Luckily, that big guy who worked in menswear was already there, so I sat down behind him. Bella dropped into the chair beside me.
The main differences between the meetings at Holt’s and those at L.A. Affairs were that at Holt’s there were no tasty snacks to enjoy and, by comparison, everybody here dressed like crap—starting with Jeanette, the store manager.
She was already at the front of the room, peering over half-glasses at the index cards she’d prepared. Jeanette was well into her fifties. She’d been the store manager here for a long time, which meant that she made a huge salary—plus bonuses and other perks—and could afford to dress in really nice clothing. Instead, she always wore outfits straight off Holt’s racks.
The clothing was dreadful, and Jeanette’s cylinder-shaped body didn’t do it any favors. Tonight she had on a neon pink dress.
She looked like the horizon at sundown—the entire horizon.
“First of all,” Jeanette said, smiling and favoring us with a raise-the-roof hand wave. “Let’s start off with some good news!”
All the employees froze—understandably so. Management’s idea of good news was usually far different from that of the employees.
“I’m very excited to announce that the Holt’s Department Store chain is acquiring another chain of stores!” Jeanette said.
I was pretty sure the same thoughts flashed in everyone’s head: does that mean some of us are going to get transferred; will those employees be replaced in our store; will we all end up doing more work?
Jeanette might have answered some of those questions. I don’t know. I drifted off.
Ty Cameron popped into my head. He was my ex-official boyfriend. He also ran the Holt’s chain of stores, the fifth generation of his family to be obsessed with and consumed by running the business to the exclusion of all else. He was the latest in a long line of Camerons unable, apparently, to break the curse.
He was also incredibly handsome, I-don’t-have-to-cheat-to-pass-tests smart, generous, considerate, loyal, and a terrific dresser. The only thing Ty wasn’t good at was dating me.
Not that I’m difficult to get along with. I can roll with almost anything. But I do believe that a boyfriend should remember our dates, show up on time, and not spend the entire evening texting and phoning other people about problems at work.
We’d tried to iron out the wrinkles in our relationship, but in the end Ty had admitted he couldn’t be the kind of boyfriend I wanted, so we broke up. I didn’t fight him on it. I let it happen.
I’ve wondered since if that was my best move.
Ty and I had seen each other a few times since our breakup. It hadn’t gone well. Neither of us seemed ready to move on to the let’s-be-friends-now phase of a relationship. We were stuck in some weird kind of no-man’s-land that we couldn’t find our way out of.
I’d spoken with Ty’s personal assistant, Amber, not long ago and she’d told me Ty had been working almost nonstop on acquiring another chain of stores to add to the Holt’s retail empire. He’d already opened Wallace, plus Holt’s International.
“More b.s.,” Bella grumbled.
I realized then that everyone was rising from their chairs. Somehow, I’d missed the entire meeting. Maybe my evening was improving.
“Who ever heard of a Nuovo?” Bella asked.
My senses jumped to high alert. Oh my God. Something interesting had happened in a meeting and I’d missed it?
“What about Nuovo?” I asked, as we moved with the crowd out of the training room.
“That’s the chain of stores Holt’s is buying,” Bella said, and shook her head. “I never heard of them.”
“They’re really upscale shops that carry designer fashions,” I said.
“Figures,” Bella said. “I can’t afford anything there, even with our employee discount.”
“Discount?” I asked. “We’re getting an employee discount?”
Maybe I should start paying attention in meetings.
“Yeah, that’s what Jeanette said,” Bella told me.
Oh my God, I had to call Marcie immediately. We both loved those stores and—oh my God—they probably had Sassy satchels in stock and—oh my God—I could get one at a discount.
Now, absolutely nothing awful could happen to ruin my evening.
“Haley?” Jeanette called.
Obviously, it could.
Bella gave me an I’m-out-of-here eyebrow bob and took off.
I started walking faster—my mother was a former beauty queen and thank goodness I have her long pageant legs—and put real distance between Jeanette and me. I intended to lose her in the lingerie department, but a line of customers in the aisle at the checkout registers slowed my pace.
“Haley?” Jeanette called again. “Haley!”
I could have outmaneuvered her—I bobbed and weaved through a pack of customers with ease while never making eye contact—but it occurred to me that I might benefit from talking with Jeanette. I stopped and allowed her to catch up.
She was slightly out of breath, so I pushed ahead.
“That Nuovo acquisition sounds great,” I said. “How much was our employee discount?”
Now her cheeks matched her bright pink dress. It wasn’t a good look on her.
“Ten percent,” Jeanette said, huffing and puffing.
At an average store, ten percent wouldn’t be worth the gas to drive there. But at Nuovo, where designer clothing, shoes, and handbags ran into the hundreds and thousands of dollars, it meant a sizable savings—which could then be spent on other items in the store, of course.
“When will the acquisition be finalized so we can use our discount?” I asked.
“Soon,” Jeanette managed to say between great heaving breaths.
“Great,” I said, and turned to leave again.
“Haley,” Jeanette said, using her store manager voice this time.
Jeanette knew that Ty and I had dated. Though she’d never said anything to me about it, she’d been compelled to cut me extra slack to ensure her own job security. I didn’t, however, know whether word had reached her that Ty and I had broken up, so I didn’t feel totally comfortable about how much I could get away with now.
Besides, I had two great reasons not to rock the Holt’s employment boat: keeping my medical coverage for a few more weeks, and buying a Sassy satchel from Nuovo with my employee discount.
“I want you to take on new responsibilities,” Jeanette told me.
I’d already blown my say-no-to-everything policy this morning at L.A. Affairs, and while that had worked out great, I wasn’t about to push my luck.
“Sorry, Jeanette,” I said. “I can’t do that.”
“The new duties will allow you to be off the sales floor for most of your shift,” Jeanette said.
Okay, she had my attention.
“We’re staffing up for the holidays. Thanksgiving is just weeks away and Christmas will be here before we know it,” Jeanette said. “I want you to take on the new-employee orientation.”
I’d suffered a paralyzing bout of brain-function zone-out during my own orientation, so I couldn’t remember what had been covered. I wasn’t really clear on all of the Holt’s policies. I’d never done anything like this before, and I wasn’t sure I was the best person for brand new employees to meet.
So what could I say but, “Sure, I’ll do it.”
“You’ll be working with Lani,” Jeanette said, and walked away before
I had a chance to say anything, which was probably wise of her.
I headed toward housewares, the somebody-please-kill-me-now department I was assigned to tonight, thinking that doing the orientation might be fun. Maybe I could liven things up a bit for the new employees.
As I wound through the displays of vacuum cleaners, luggage, and small appliances, my cell phone in my pocket vibrated. We weren’t supposed to have our phones on the sales floor, but oh, well. I ducked behind a rack of hanging pots and pans and checked my ID screen. It was Detective Shuman calling.
“About time,” I said when I answered.
“Miss me?” he asked, and I heard playfulness in his voice.
“I texted you hours ago.”
“And you’ve been thinking about me all this time?” Shuman asked.
“I’ve been annoyed with you all this time,” I told him.
“Not what I was hoping for,” he said, and chuckled, “but I’ll take it.”
I laughed, too. Shuman had that effect on me.
“So, are you psychic? Or did the Bat Signal flash a giant H in the sky over police headquarters today?” I asked. “How did you find out so fast that I was involved with another murder?”
“You’re involved in a murder?” Shuman asked.
The playfulness was gone from his voice, which gave me a weird feeling.
“Your text message,” I reminded him. “I shouldn’t talk to homicide detectives. Remember?”
“What murder are you talking about?” he asked.
Since Shuman was a homicide detective he’d probably been through a really long, tough day investigating the worst sort of crimes imaginable—possibly several of them, since he was calling so late. I decided I could cut him some slack.
“That guy at Hollywood Haven,” I explained. “Derrick Ellery. I was planning an event with him for the retirement home, and I found his body in his office today. He’d been murdered.”
Shuman didn’t say anything.
I didn’t like the sound of the silence. All sorts of horrible thoughts jammed my head.
“That’s what you texted me about, wasn’t it?” I asked.
“No,” Shuman said. “It was about your ex.”
“Ty?”
A zillion horrible scenarios collided in my brain.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Something had happened to Ty. Something horrible. He’d been injured. Maimed. Disfigured. He was in a coma, on life support, clinging to life by a frayed thread. Or—oh my God—had Ty been murdered?
Ty might be dead? Dead? Gone? Forever?
And all this time we could have been together, enjoying our lives, having fun, and now he might be dead? All because I’d gone along with his stupid idea to break up?
My heart pounded. I felt light headed.
“What happened?”
“Take it easy,” Shuman said.
“Tell me!”
“Ty’s okay,” Shuman said. “He’s not injured or ill. It’s nothing like that.”
I gulped in big breaths. I had to calm down.
I don’t really like being calm.
But, I reminded myself, this kind of thing had happened once before, not long ago. I’d gotten a call from the hospital in Palmdale with the news that Ty had been involved in a car accident. I’d panicked and rushed to the emergency room only to find him sitting in the waiting room with a scratch on his cheek.
I drew in another breath and let it out slowly. “Then what’s this about?” I asked.
Shuman was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “Ty is a person of interest in a case I heard about.”
A different sort of fear washed over me.
“What—what kind of case?”
“Homicide,” Shuman said. “Ty might have murdered someone.”
CHAPTER 4
“Are you ready to party?” Mindy shouted as I walked into the office.
I stopped in front of her desk. This morning I had on a totally awesome gray business suit that I’d paired with an equally awesome red Coach satchel. I could see how my fabulous taste in clothing might distract Mindy but, jeez, she should know I’m an employee and not a vendor or client.
Maybe we needed a security camera with facial recognition software for Mindy.
Or maybe some eyeglasses would do the trick.
“Morning, Mindy,” I said. “It’s me. Haley.”
“Oh, Haley, it’s you.” Mindy giggled, then pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You know, a nice fine-tipped pen would really make my day fly by. I thought you should know.”
I thought the tip of Mindy’s pen was the least of her problems.
I forced a smile and headed for the breakroom.
When I walked in I saw three large pink boxes on the counter filled with a delightful selection of doughnuts, cinnamon rolls, and muffins—a please-keep-hiring-us gift from a vendor, no doubt. The room smelled like baked goodies and freshly brewed coffee. Everyone was crowded around the microwave, chatting and heating up the delicious looking bakery treats. What a great way to begin the day.
“We’re almost out of paper plates, Haley,” somebody called.
Everyone here was so nice, so considerate. Was this a great place to work, or what?
“No problem,” I said. “I’ll eat mine off a napkin.”
I made my way to the coffeepot, prepared a cup—extra sugar and French vanilla flavoring to go along with the mega sweet theme of the morning—grabbed a doughnut from the box—chocolate, of course—and left.
Really, how can a day go badly when it started with a chocolate doughnut?
I found out when I walked into my office.
A tall stack of event portfolios sat in the middle of my desk. Where the heck had they come from?
I flipped open the one on top and saw that it was a birthday party Suzie had been handling. Then I remembered that Priscilla had said yesterday that she’d bring them to my office.
I stepped back and eyed the stack. Wow, I hadn’t realized Suzie was juggling so many events. This was a lot—really a lot. Way more than I’d expected. How had she managed such a heavy workload while pregnant? Why had she even taken on so much? She must have been totally overwhelmed.
Suzie had probably forced herself into early labor just to get out of doing all these events.
I stowed my handbag and sipped my coffee. I’d have to hunker down, go through the portfolios, and get up to speed on every event—and I would, as soon as I attended to my more pressing matters.
As I moved Suzie’s portfolios to my credenza, I noticed a number of file folders at the bottom of the stack. Had Priscilla brought me those also?
I had no idea what they were all about, but I didn’t have time to check them out now. I had a lot to do today.
I sat down at my desk and got started by checking Facebook, booking a pedi, and reading my horoscope while I ate my doughnut and finished my coffee. I was moving ahead with lunch plans and a possible shopping trip after work tonight with Marcie when my cell phone rang. My preprogramed DO NOT ANSWER flashed on the caller ID screen.
Yikes! My mom was calling.
I picked up my phone with two fingers and tossed it into my handbag.
My morning seemed to have taken an unpleasant turn. There was only one thing I could do.
I grabbed my handbag and an event portfolio and left.
A run of piano notes followed by voices raised in song greeted me as I walked through Hollywood Haven’s front door and into the lobby. The music came from the hallway that led to the residents’ wing of the facility. I’d been in that section of the building once, when I’d taken a wrong turn, and knew there was a large dayroom with a grand piano. Since the majority of the residents had been entertainers back in the day, it got a lot of use.
Karen stood behind the front desk and favored me with a big smile. “Good morning, Haley. Welcome! It’s a great day, isn’t it?”
Not exactly the greeting I expected, given that the assistant director had been murdered here only yesterday. But
maybe she was trying to keep it light so as not to upset the elderly residents.
Probably not a bad idea.
I switched into I’m-pretending-to-be-concerned-about-you mode. “How is everybody holding up?” I asked.
“Great!” Karen said. She gestured toward the hallway leading to the residents’ wing. “Can’t you tell?”
I listened and realized that the residents were singing “Ding Dong! The Witch Is Dead.”
I didn’t need a weatherman to see which way the wind was blowing.
“I guess nobody is upset about Derrick’s death,” I said.
“Hardly.” Karen rolled her eyes.
Sensing major gossip, I eased closer and said, “What’s going on?”
Karen glanced around, then leaned in, confirmation that major gossip was in play.
“To put it mildly,” she said, “Derrick Ellery was not well liked around here. Not at all.”
This surprised me because Derrick had been terrific to work with the entire time I’d been planning the gala with him. Friendly, easygoing, agreeable, always pleasant. I’d never seen him in a bad mood.
“He seemed like such a nice guy,” I said.
“Oh, no,” Karen insisted. “In fact—”
She stopped and pulled back. “I really shouldn’t say anything.”
Damn. I hate it when somebody starts a big, juicy story, then quits. It’s like being teased with a fabulous handbag in a department store display case only to be told they’re out of stock.
Still, I wasn’t willing to let this opportunity to hear some dirt pass me by, not without attempting a work-around.
“Have you heard anything from the police?” I asked. “Do they know what happened to Derrick, exactly?”
“Just that he was shot,” Karen said.
I’d figured as much, after seeing the bloodstain on the front of his shirt yesterday.
“Do they have any suspects?” I asked.
“Not that I’ve heard. Those detectives took our security surveillance tapes,” Karen said. “They took my sign-in log, too.”
She hadn’t been diligent about having all visitors sign in—myself being a prime example—so I doubted the detectives would glean much useful info from it; someone bent on murder wouldn’t likely identify themselves on the log, anyway. But maybe the surveillance tape would reveal something.
Swag Bags and Swindlers Page 3
