Phelps was nice, but Justin realized he also did not remember what she looked like, only that she had grayish hair and smiled. How could that be? He remembered her kindness but didn’t actually recall staying at her home for a few days. Phelps had insisted he call his adoptive parents afterwards and he thought he remembered how supportive they were. Did he tell them that the letter said he had a twin? He rather thought so but couldn’t quite fix on the details.
It was just all so shocking. Why would birth parents keep one twin and give up the other? How could anyone do that? Why would anyone do that? What kind of monsters were they?
Edna Phelps did tell him they were kind people and had a good reason.
She kept telling him the future was up to him now.
But what was he supposed to do?
He guessed the first step was to find his twin, but he wasn’t sure where to begin. Edna had no idea where that twin was but warned him to go forward very gently for he had no inkling of his reception when or if he did find his twin.
He picked up his smart phone and clicked on the Internet link.
It was surprising how many people there were in the world with the name he was looking for.
twenty-five
Laura arrived at the Fitzpatrick house as planned, promptly at one o’clock in the afternoon. Alison Fitzpatrick, Connor’s mother, answered the door.
“Did you bring Girl Scout cookies with you? I miss those days!”
Laura laughed. She had been the single most persistent Brownie and Girl Scout in the town when it came to selling cookies and often won many prizes for her troop, including extra camping trips. She had even conned her father into agreeing to go on one of the trips with her troop if she sold a specific number of boxes one year, which, of course, she did.
“I think you can order them online or through the local troop, Alison.”
“But it’s not as much fun as watching Connor try to shut the door in your face when you came back three times in the same half hour.”
“He hated it,” Laura agreed, laughing, “whenever I put my foot in the door so he couldn’t close it. Thank goodness we all wore saddle oxfords!”
Connor showed up behind his mother, looking at his phone.
“You’re three minutes late. I thought you stood me up.”
“I was here on time. I didn’t see you anywhere.”
And so it went on their way down to the basement.
“Where’s your dad?” Laura whispered.
“Around somewhere, so be alert. He will find out today that I can dance. What kind of music do you want to start with?” he asked and watched her sit in a chair and change her shoes to the pink, soft leather ballet slippers.
She stood and pranced around, pirouetting and twirling.
“Wow, I can still do this.”
He hoped she wasn’t expecting him to do any of that.
“You know those secret dancing lessons at Arthur Murray in Duluth from eleven years ago? Do you remember anything beyond the little dancing we did at Christmas time?”
Connor shook his head. “And I learned no salsa. Just pretended some moves. It looks like fun.”
“I can teach you that in fifteen minutes—three different dance step variations. And I promise you the rest of it will all come back very quickly.”
“Like falling off a bike?”
She nodded.
“And, Connor, I thought you danced pretty well at Christmas. I don’t think we’ll have any problems.”
“Hey, come here. I hear them arguing back in their bedroom upstairs.”
He wrapped her in his arms and was about to kiss her when they heard footsteps belonging to his father. He rolled his eyes, let go of her, and moved to the music system.
“Is this music okay? Do you want something else?”
He inadvertently chose chamber music.
Laura made a face.
“I hate chamber music. I enjoy other classical music, but there’s something awful about chamber music. Mom never liked it, either. Maybe it’s all the minor chords and mournful sounds. I always think it belongs in horror films. Find something else. Something peppier.”
He switched to a standard, classical waltz, and kicked off his shoes so he wouldn’t crush her toes. Thankfully, he wasn’t as rusty as he feared, and the pair was soon prancing and waltzing around the room. They heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Keep going,” he told her. “I’m going to twirl and dip you.”
And he did.
Quite successfully.
Which also brought them both to facing the bottom of the stairs, Connor’s face up and Laura’s face upside down, right where Deputy Chief Michael Fitzpatrick was standing, his eyes big, with no other expression on his face.
“Hi, Chief Fitzpatrick,” Laura called and straightened up to give him a big hug.
“Okay, you two. I know Laura can do this stuff. Explain to me how Connor knows how to do it.”
“It’s a long story that I’ll tell you over dinner later. Right now, Laura and I have some practicing to do.”
The Chief harrumphed and said, “Okay, then,” and they waited until he was back upstairs with Alison before they started again.
“I think we’ve got the ballroom dancing part down. What do you want to try next?”
“How about some pop?” Connor suggested then asked the system to play pop without waiting for Laura’s response.
She held out her arms, and together they worked out several steps variations to rock ‘n’ roll and pop music.
“We need more practice on this, I think, so we are together,” Laura said.
“I only stepped on your toes once.”
“Hardly felt it; we just don’t look smooth. Let me look at a couple of videos before our practice tomorrow. Maybe we’re doing something wrong.”
“Sounds good. Hey, I also want to go over our responsibilities as chaperones. Sometimes the kids get a little out of hand. You should know about some of their tricks.”
Connor’s phone rang. “Take a break,” he said, pointing to the pitcher of lemonade and two glasses his mother had brought down while they had danced.
• • •
Jenna Buckley was floating on air. She had so many valuable items for the silent auction; all the logistics were handled and taken care of by Reynolds. Food and drinks had been ordered and would be delivered on time. She was excited with the multitude of donated antique and other wonderful items that had been given. Her friends had come through with their silk flower arrangements, framed prints, and dream baskets. Her mother had donated two sterling silver serving trays, and several of Mrs. Buckley’s friends had also given expensive items, including crystal vases, an antique clock, etched glassware, artwork, cut glass and crystal serving pieces, brooches and other jewelry items. Everything had been carefully catalogued, each with its provenance, and itemized in Jenna’s notebook, but she checked everything with each new donation, counting them over and over to make sure she knew what she had and how she would set the minimum opening bids.
The auction was all set for next Sunday. This would make a name for her as she took over her mother’s previous fund-raising functions for Raging Ford. She just had to peek one time in the hotel vault and make sure everything was there.
She signed in at the front desk and asked for the keycards to both the outer room and the vault room. When she arrived, the security guard was standing by the outer room door and greeted her.
The fact that her keycard to the door didn’t work did not stop her, although it was puzzling. She went back to the front desk and they issued her another card. Her first inkling that something was wrong showed up when the second card didn’t work, either. The security guard didn’t have a keycard, so he couldn’t help her.
>
The hotel manager was called, and he checked the two cards in their systems and tried both on the door, but it still wouldn’t open. He retrieved a master card from his locked desk and opened the vault door.
Jenna staggered backwards and grabbed the manager’s arm.
The hotel vault room was empty.
All of the auction items were gone and so was the security guard.
twenty-six
Connor’s face took on a serious look during the call.
“I’m on my way. Tell her to stay calm. Gotta run,” this last part was directed at Laura.
“What happened? Anything I should know about?”
“The silent auction items in the hotel vault room have been stolen. Everything’s gone. Nothing for you to do, Laura. We’ve got this.”
Laura was flabbergasted as he slipped on his shoes, grabbed his holster and gun from the bookshelf, and took the stairs two at a time, calling good-bye to his parents. She heard the front door shut behind him. Jenna would be devastated; this was her first big fund-raising event. Some of the donations were valuable, big-ticket items, including the one miniature by Degas. Laura wanted to go help her friend but knew Connor would not appreciate her jumping into things. Instead, she texted her other two friends and told them what had happened but that she knew no details.
Within seconds after sending the texts, her phone dinged twice. Then it rang. The call was from Jenna.
“Oh, Laura!” she cried. “I don’t know what to do! All the items for the silent auction have been stolen!”
“Connor just got the call. I’m over at his parents’ house. He’s on his way, and I know the police will do everything possible to recover the items. What do you need me to do?”
Laura heard sobbing in the background and then sirens.
“Oh, nothing,” Jenna managed. “They’re here. I’ll call you back.”
Then Laura answered the texts from Erica and Kelly with, “We need to meet ASAP to help Jenna.”
The trio planned a quick dinner at the Valencia Café across the street from Laura’s and Erica’s shops. Laura changed her shoes and headed there immediately. She kept thinking about the theft of the auction items. Some of the items were priceless antiques and artwork donated by wealthy families in the county. A truly major theft. Who would do such a thing?
And why?
Granted there could be someone who knew about the silent auction and sought out the location of the goods. Could it have been someone connected with the hotel? An inside job?
And what was up with the private security team?
How could this have happened?
• • •
Far from planning a way to help their friend out of this disaster, Laura, Kelly, and Erica sat silent at their table in the café. It was Marie’s night off, so there was no one they knew to notice their abnormal behavior. They had one coffee each, and Kelly suggested they sleep on it and get together for lunch tomorrow. Erica agreed until Laura said, “Let’s go over to my kitchenette; I’ve got some leftover meatloaf and creamed spinach and rice with brownies for dessert. Maybe we’ll think more clearly after eating.”
The three ladies sat in Laura’s kitchenette devouring the food.
“I don’t know how you make leftovers taste so good, Laura, but anytime you want to send some over for Torrey and me, I’ll take them,” Erica said.
“This is really good,” Kelly agreed, “but I can’t wait for the brownies.”
“What are we going to do?” Erica posed.
“I don’t know yet,” Laura responded, “but we have to do something to help Jenna.”
“Won’t the cops find everything?” Kelly asked.
“Not sure, or if they do, that it will be in time for next Sunday. She may have to cancel the auction,” Erica said.
“Oh, no!”
“I agree,” Laura put in. “The police may not get everything back in time for the auction, so what are our options here? Can Jenna get more donations? I can give her more baskets; I just made a bunch of new ones, including one for the gold rush days in Sacramento. Can you guys help?”
“Sure, but is that enough for a big auction?”
“Can Mrs. Buckley ask her friends for more donations?”
“That might be one solution, and we know all the really valuable items were probably insured.”
“Geez, guys, I just don’t know. Pass the brownies.”
“Okay, then, I think we better sleep on it, if we can sleep at all.”
“How did Jenna sound when you talked with her, Laura?”
“A mess. But it had just happened and maybe she’s calmer now. We can hope. Oh, and don’t discuss any of this with your families—please. It shouldn’t go out on the airwaves under any circumstances.”
They both nodded.
“Okay, last brownie and then we’ll head out.”
“We can regroup tomorrow.”
“Got it.”
• • •
They were falling over themselves laughing. It had all been so easy to mess up the auction…
Cigarette smoke swirled around the room, regardless of the dangers of lung cancer and second-hand smoke.
Neither the man nor the woman seemed to mind. They were laughing too hard. Just a few things here and there and the whole planned auction fell to pieces.
“I love your tricks. You are so clever! Way to go and tie everybody up with a major theft! Now they’ll be too busy to dig into anything of ours and we can continue our plans.”
“Maybe we should demand money for the return of the items and require a huge amount to be transferred to our Bitcoin account. I can do the encryption. What do you think?”
More laughter.
“Then when we sell the valuable stuff, we’ll make double!”
“Let me think about it.”
• • •
Laura took a very late call from Chief Arthur Mallory of the Raging Ford Police Department. It kept her awake until the wee hours were past.
twenty-seven
Jenna’s sobs and quivering voice over the phone told Laura that her close friend was still beside herself.
“Can I come over and help with anything?”
“No! Don’t come over. I look a wreck!”
“Jenna, you know I don’t care about that. I want to help.”
“There’s nothing you can do. I have to cancel the auction and somehow make it up to all of Mother’s friends.”
“You must know that none of this is your fault. You did everything you could to safeguard the items.”
“Then what happened?”
“I don’t know. They’re still trying to piece it together, step by step. The police are probably calling in the FBI because of the jewelry and artwork. That means you have the two best law enforcement teams in the state working on it. If anyone can find the items, they will. And maybe even in time for the auction to be held on the original date, in six days.”
More sobbing.
“I don’t think so, Laura. The odds are not in favor of that happening. We haven’t a prayer.”
“I think you’re wrong about that. There’s always prayer and hope. I’ll do the prayer. You keep the hope, Jenna.”
• • •
Next, Laura planted herself in Connor’s office, in one of the two stiff, metal visitor chairs that had once graced her father’s office in this same police station more than a decade earlier. She waited until Connor’s meetings and calls were completed and he regained the more comfortable seat behind his desk.
He looked at her, saw the brightness in her eyes that usually indicated a plan was afoot.
“What’s up? I have a lot going on and not much time. May not even get a lunch today.”
&
nbsp; “Good morning, Connor,” she began but saw he looked burdened. “Okay, I have three things and I’ll try to make them brief. First, your boss called me last evening and asked me to consult on the theft of the auction items.”
“He called you from Denver?” Connor was thinking that Laura was anything but brief; however, perhaps she could be, if she wanted.
“Is that where he is? His caller ID just had his name. I thought he was back in town.”
Connor shook his head.
“Okay, I’ll need some guidance on what you want me to do with that, if there is anything I can do.”
“Mrs. Mallory was one of the donors. She gave Jenna a very valuable piece of jewelry that is now gone.”
“Oh, wow. That’s why he called me. I bet she wants it back.”
“No, she doesn’t care about it. Mallory said it’s a brooch she inherited that she thinks is ugly but was hoping for a tax deduction from the donation. A couple of years ago, she lost a ring, submitted the loss to the insurance company, and they paid and upped the premiums…a lot. The chief doesn’t want that happening again.”
“Oh. Okay, secondly, I want to know more about Brittany Johanssen. Do you have case files I can take a peek through?”
“Everything was turned over to the FBI.”
“But isn’t there something that RFPD kept? Maybe some handwritten notes? Something in your computers, maybe?”
“Minimal in the database. There’s probably a box somewhere. I’ll ask Sam to look for it. What’s the third thing?”
A Dress to Die For Page 13
