Random Acts of Fraud (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries Book 5)

by Christy Barritt

  Finally, his lip twitched. I waited for a sigh, for him to lean back or nod solemnly as he realized that I truly was sold out for my beliefs.

  Instead, a smile cracked his face. “I love that, Holly. I love when people see beyond the temporary and into the eternal. Not many people do.”

  A surprising—and physical—relief, possibly a burst of joy, swept through me.

  He didn’t think I was crazy.

  “I work with death every day,” he said. “I’ve seen how people store up the treasures of this earth. But we all die, and none of us takes any of that with us. We have a much more important purpose and so little time here in the grand scheme of things.”

  “Exactly!”

  We shared a moment.

  “We’re here.” He opened a glass door and swept his hand toward the inside. “Ladies first.”

  “Very well.” I stepped onto a wooden floor beyond the entrance and paused. “A bookstore?”

  It was tiny—probably an eight-by-eight room—and there was no one else here, no one except for a woman wearing a black dress and holding a binder in her hands. She smiled pleasantly at us but said nothing. There wasn’t even a cash register, for that matter.

  My suspicions rose, but I pushed them down. This wasn’t a part of someone’s plan to kill me . . . I hoped.

  “Books before dinner?” I questioned.

  Drew’s eyes sparkled, and he winked.

  Seeing him wink nearly made my knees go weak.

  He leaned toward the woman in black and whispered, “Punch the bag.”

  Alarm raced through me. What bag? Was I the bag? That would be highly insulting, to say the least.

  The woman smiled, sauntered over to the bookcase, and tugged the edge of it. “Right this way,” she murmured.

  What in the world was going on?

  Drew’s eyes were still sparkling when he took my elbow and led me toward the hidden doorway.

  What if I was walking into my death? What if Drew was a part of this? What if he was the man who’d broken into my home?

  I stopped.

  Drew leaned toward me and whispered, “Trust me.”

  I wanted to say, Trust you? I don’t even know you. Do you know how many people have wanted to kill me in my lifetime? In fact, there’s a threat on my life right now.

  But, before I could, the sound of big band music drifted outward, as did the scent of food. What in the world . . . ?

  Despite all my reservations, I followed the woman in black through the door. When I reached the other side, I sucked in a breath.

  It was a restaurant.

  Roaring-twenties-style decorations graced the place—deep burgundy wallpaper with chandeliers and thick tables. There were no windows, which made everything appear dark and intimate. People dined here, being waited on by women wearing flapper outfits and men dressed in vests and bow ties.

  “What do you think?” Drew whispered.

  “This is . . . a speakeasy?”

  Satisfaction lit his gaze. “That’s right. You have to give a password to get in. ‘Punch the bag’ actually was slang for small talk in the twenties.”

  I shook my head as I soaked everything in. This was amazing. Simply amazing. “I love it.”

  “I thought you might. Come on. I’ve got a table reserved in the corner.”

  A corner table? Could this evening get any better? I didn’t think so.

  Dinner ended. The braised chicken thighs I’d ordered were delicious, and the roasted asparagus had just the right crunch factor. Drew had ordered brisket with mashed potatoes. Apparently, he worked out, so he could afford the high calories.

  The two of us had a great conversation, and I was again amazed at everything we had in common. Plus, Drew was such a gentleman. He’d helped me with my chair and coat. He’d opened doors and offered his arm.

  He loved jazz music; he valued volunteer work; and he was active at church.

  If I went down the list I’d made of one hundred qualities I wanted in a husband—sadly, yes, I had one of those—he’d fit almost all of them. I’d lost the list until recently, when I moved out of the house. I’d found it tucked into the pages of one of my old Bibles.

  I was enjoying myself so much that I’d nearly forgotten about the danger plaguing me in recent days. This distraction had been nice.

  “Do you know the detective who’s on this case? Forgive me for being nosy. That was just the impression I was left with at the police station on Saturday.”

  My cheeks heated. How much did I say? There was no reason to skirt around the truth. “I . . . we . . . we used to date.”

  He nodded stiffly. “I see. Well, I hope I didn’t bring up a sour subject.”

  “No, you didn’t. We’re still friends.”

  “That’s good. That says a lot about a relationship if you can remain friends.”

  I offered a quick smile. Breakup etiquette also dictated that it wasn’t a good thing to remain friends. I supposed it depended on which expert you asked. “I think so also.”

  The waitress came over. “Same check or separate?”

  “Separate, please,” Drew said.

  I blinked back my disappointment. Really? He’d been such a gentleman all evening and now we were splitting the check? I mean, I wasn’t opposed to paying for myself but . . .

  Drew nudged me, pulling me out of my stupor. “Just kidding. One check.”

  I released my breath with an airy laugh.

  “I had you going for a minute,” Drew said.

  I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t. “You did.”

  “You were making a mental note to never go on any more dates with me.”

  “I didn’t say that,” I argued. My thoughts hadn’t gone that far. But, eventually, they would have.

  He chuckled. “I’m sorry to give you a hard time. I just couldn’t resist.”

  I shrugged, feeling more at ease at his good-natured teasing.

  He paid and, as we stepped outside, I realized it had started raining. With no windows inside the restaurant, I’d had no clue. And it was coming down in buckets, at that.

  We paused under the awning. Neither of us had an umbrella.

  “You know, in the old days, it would be customary for the man to lay down his coat over a puddle so a woman could cross without ruining her shoes,” Drew started.

  “Just think about all those jackets that were ruined,” I said.

  “Exactly! Certainly there was a more efficient way of doing things.”

  “I agree. I like to be treated like a lady, but that rule even makes me shrug. I have no idea what people were thinking.” I nodded toward a particularly large puddle. “However, maybe you could bring a little stepping stone to put right there?”

  “I have a better idea.”

  Before I could argue, he swept me into his arms. I sucked in a deep breath at his sudden move. With a grin, he carried me over the puddle before gently placing me back on my feet.

  My heart raced out of control.

  “How’s that?” he asked.

  I cleared my throat, trying to regain control of my thoughts. “Very efficient.”

  He shrugged and straightened his coat dramatically. “I like being efficient.”

  “You’re good at it.”

  Raindrops hit my face and hair as I turned toward him. Our gazes caught.

  If I weren’t so skittish, this would be a perfectly romantic, kissable moment. I could see the desire in Drew’s eyes. I could feel our draw to each other.

  But I wasn’t ready. Kissing wasn’t a big deal for a lot of people, but it was a big deal for me.

  Drew winked and took my hand. “Come on.”

  As we hurried down the street, I heard a footfall behind us. My entire body went rigid.

  I turned around, looking for the source of the sound and hoping desperately it was nothing.

  The sidewalk behind us was empty.

  “What’s wrong?” Drew asked.

  I tried to shrug off my ap
prehension. “Nothing, I guess.”

  But as we took a few more steps, I heard the sound again.

  I glanced over my shoulder. A few people were leaving another restaurant, scrambling through the rain.

  “Holly?” Drew asked.

  “I think I’m hearing things,” I confessed.

  “Here’s the parking garage,” he said. “At least we can get you out of the rain.”

  My throat went dry. Parking garages didn’t make me feel better. There were too many places for people to hide. It was too secluded, too dark, too everything.

  I shivered when I stepped into the space, partly because of the rain and partly from fear.

  As Drew started to lead me toward the elevator, I stopped. “Could we take the stairs?”

  The request may have sounded unusual, but I felt safer on the stairs than I did trapped in an elevator.

  “Sure thing. If that’s what you want. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I swallowed hard and ventured into the truth. “My intuition is telling me something is wrong. That someone’s following us. The best thing we can do right now is to get out of here.”

  I thought he might react with disbelief. Instead, his jaw locked and he took my arm. “Let’s get to our cars then.”

  As we hurried up the steps, I could hardly breathe. I waited for another footfall, another telltale sound.

  I heard nothing.

  As soon as we stepped onto the third level, my gaze darted from car to car. Someone could easily be waiting between any of them. My skin crawled as I anticipated someone emerging, jumping out, trying to end my life.

  Drew kept a hand at my waist and pulled me close. He also appeared to be on edge, and his gaze darted around to all of the dark spaces and nooks here in the garage.

  Finally, we reached our cars.

  We’d made it.

  But I knew I wasn’t losing my mind. Someone had been out there.

  “Do you want me to follow you home?” Drew asked.

  I considered it a moment before shaking my head. I still wasn’t sure I wanted him to know where I lived. “I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded.

  He still hesitated but finally nodded. “If you insist. I’ll talk to you later then.”

  He glanced into the backseat, as if checking it for me, before climbing into his own car.

  My heart was still pounding out of control as I drove toward home.

  Drew seemed too good to be true. But was he? Or did guys like him really exist?

  I mean, he’d talked about the importance of family over career. He wanted children. A lot of them. He even had a retirement account set up. He’d paid off his student loans, and I was pretty sure he’d never even gone through a rebellious streak. That said a lot.

  In fact, he kind of sounded like me.

  But the question still lingered in the back of my head. Could he be involved with this mystery? Or were all my suspicions getting the best of me?

  Chapter Sixteen

  When I got back home, Blake was inside, sitting on my couch with a computer on her lap. Her shoes were strewn by the door, a sweater had been tossed over the entryway table, and some socks were balled on the floor in front of her.

  I resisted the urge to pick up after her, while inwardly twitching at the messes scattered over my house. If she stayed much longer I’d need to have a talk with her about it, but right now she was in the grace-filled honeymoon period of being my guest.

  “I see you figured out the security system okay.” I dropped my purse on the table beside the door, mentally making a note to put it in my room later, and took my sweater off.

  “Yes, I did. I didn’t set off any alarms. That’s always a good thing.”

  “I’d say.”

  Blake closed her computer.

  I wanted to greet her warmly and without hesitation. But everything my brother and sister—as well as Jamie and Chase—had said slammed into my head.

  Had Alex and Ralph gotten their background checks back yet? If so, what had they discovered? And why couldn’t I do something nice without all these reservations?

  Blake gave an approving nod. “Don’t you look nice. You have a very romantic, Jane Austin vibe going on. What’s the occasion?”

  “I had a date.” I sucked in a long breath, inhaling the scent of a recently heated microwave dinner, which twisted my stomach. I wasn’t a fan of processed foods. At all.

  Blake’s eyes lit. “Really? Sounds interesting. This non-dating gal would love to live vicariously through you.”

  “I don’t know if there’s anything worthy of living through me. He’s a really nice guy, though.” I sat across from her and tucked the skirt of my dress beneath my legs.

  “What about that detective guy? Do you know him? You seemed to be pretty cozy when you talked.”

  I swallowed hard. “We were engaged.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really? Wow. He’s . . . he’s hot. Does that mean . . . does that mean he’s back on the market since you’re dating someone else?”

  Something territorial started to rise in me. I wanted to scream no! But the truth was, Chase was officially a free man.

  “Let’s talk about you,” I said, changing the subject. “How are you today?”

  “I’ve been busy with school. I can’t stop thinking about what happened last night, though.” She frowned as if apprehensive. “Have you heard any updates?”

  I shook my head. “Unfortunately, I haven’t. The intruder seemed pretty slick. He didn’t leave any evidence behind.”

  “That’s scary stuff.”

  “I know.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Oh, and someone stopped by a few hours ago. They said they were your future in-laws?”

  My stomach sank. The Hookers. How had they gotten my address? “Did they say anything else?”

  “They asked if you could stop by the funeral home tomorrow and help plan someone’s memorial service.”

  Of course, Travis would have a memorial service. It was probably going to be at Wilford, for that matter.

  “They also said they didn’t have your phone number. That’s why they came here.”

  “Good to know. Thanks for passing that on.”

  She shifted, and I noticed her thick gold bracelet. She also wore a coordinating necklace with a diamond pendant on the end.

  “Nice set of jewelry,” I said.

  She looked down and her cheeks flushed. “Oh, these. My parents handed them down to me from my grandmother. They’re kind of special to me.”

  “That’s nice.”

  She let out a long breath and relaxed her shoulders, signaling a conversation change. “In case I haven’t told you, I really appreciate you letting me stay here. I’m looking for somewhere else, but it’s complicated being on a student income. Which basically means having no income.”

  “I remember what that was like.”

  I settled back on the couch, and Blake talked about classes and the weather and a new club she wanted to check out. As she talked, I only had one thought circling in my head.

  What could two guys who moved dead bodies for a living be up to? That was the question.

  Somewhere in the midst of trying to sleep and not being able to because of haunting memories of last night’s break-in, a realization hit me like lightning.

  What would two guys who moved dead bodies for a living be up to? That had been the question I was thinking about as I tried to drift to sleep.

  But I’d also been thinking about Blake’s jewelry and how hand-me-downs like that were so important to some people.

  That’s when it hit me that Travis and Chuck were both in the perfect position to take people’s valuables.

  After all, they were often in a room alone as they prepared to take away a deceased loved one.

  Dr. Gilbert had said that Travis was looking through his wife’s lingerie drawer. But what if he was really looking for valuables? What if he wasn’t a perv
at all?

  That could also explain how he’d come into money recently.

  If Travis and Chuck were working with someone, that third person might be desperate to keep what they were doing quiet. To save his reputation? Possibly. Or maybe it was so he could keep profiting from it.

  Maybe Travis and Chuck had decided they wanted out. Wasn’t that what Travis had told Ronald? That he was going to turn things around? Maybe in the process they were going to bring down the third partner. Maybe they’d saved evidence against him, evidence that someone now thought I had.

  Maybe it was a stretch, but it was the best I had to work with right now.

  Unable to sleep, I hopped on my computer. I logged into the crime reports for the city. I looked through anything that had to do with stolen jewelry.

  People’s names weren’t mentioned, but their addresses were. I printed them out and sat back to study them.

  I eliminated many of them, starting with those from other areas of town. Most people who used Dillow’s service were probably in this area. Not necessarily all of them, but in my experience people liked to stick close to home with stuff like this.

  I also narrowed it down to the last three months, just to simplify things.

  Then I looked at the addresses.

  One stood out to me. I recognized that street and house number.

  One of my former social-work clients lived there.

  I knew what I was doing. First thing tomorrow morning, I was going to call her and see if I could find out more information.

  And, for now, I would keep this quiet from Chase. Right now, all this was just a theory. I needed to find out more information before I brought the case before him.

  I was sitting at my desk at work the next day when a woman came to see me. She was in her mid-thirties with dark hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail. Tendrils escaped, but not in a flattering way. More in a haired-out manner. Deep bags formed half-circles beneath her eyes, and her blue shirt had a stain on the chest.

  It took me a minute to recognize her before memories flooded back to me. This was Rita Chaplin. She was a single mom who’d had her kids taken away for six months while she got herself clean. I’d been right there in the thick of things as a social worker.