A Dress to Die For

by Margaret Evans

  She turned to see him nod in agreement.

  “When do you want to start?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  He exhaled.

  “Okay, I’ll call Nolan to see if he has an available agent tomorrow. Any particular time?”

  “Should I call first for an appointment with each of them? Or should I just show up and surprise them? Surprise is what they do on TV.”

  “Surprise is usually best because they have no opportunity to think about it before they have to answer your questions. Who’s minding your shop?”

  “I’ll talk to Jenna and see if she’s interested. It might help keep her busy and get her mind off everything.”

  “My mother is bored and looking for volunteer work.”

  “Tell her I’ll give her perpetual discounts on anything in the shop.”

  • • •

  Class Divide talent agency was headquartered in New York City. Its local office in Minnesota was on the main drag in downtown Minneapolis, in thin air on the entire thirty-eighth floor of a nearly all-glass building sandwiched between equally tall and striking skyscrapers housing other businesses, hotels, retail centers, and restaurants. It was also viewable from the Minneapolis Skyway System, a unique glass-enclosed walkway bridge structure that connected many of the buildings in downtown Minneapolis without having to descend to street level.

  Once a visitor got past the glamour of thinking they were in New York City, they realized they were in Minnesota and this was real. Some visitors to the thirty-eighth floor actually walked away with a smile.

  Today was not that day.

  Executive Director Camilla Wellington cancelled all her appointments. She forced herself not to frown, fearing a wrinkle that might become a crease and subsequently, a permanent blemish on her beautiful face. Someone, somewhere, had been digging into their company’s structure, and that was a no-no. Her gilt-tipped fingernails were drumming without rhythm on her cold, black marble-topped desk.

  “Are you sure?” her associate director asked. He took a long puff on his E-cigarette, held it, and blew out a plume of vapor to end all plumes.

  She grimaced, tried to wave some of it away.

  “Those things are nasty. And of course I’m sure. Anyone going to a website on the BizyBizzes’ link shows up on our report.”

  “Did we find out who it was?”

  She nodded.

  “At least where it is. Came from an IP address in Raging Ford.”

  “Where the heck is that? What state? Is it even in this country?”

  “Here in Minnesota, according to the report.” She did a quick online map search for the town, sat back, surprised. “And it’s not far from Duluth.”

  He took another deep draw and blew another dense cloud into the office.

  “Not much there besides Lake Superior.”

  She cringed as she watched the vapor settle into the corners of her office, certain it would never be clean enough for her ever again or that the dampness would ruin the natural woods of her furniture.

  “Don’t they make those things smokeless?”

  “Some brands are, but nothing is as satisfying as blowing out rings and these large cumulonimbus water vapor clouds.”

  Turning back to her online map, she noticed exactly where Raging Ford was.

  “Well, this little town is in the lower Mesabi Range. Now why on earth would someone from this little town be interested in our company’s financial structure?”

  “No clue. But it can’t be a good thing for anyone to ever look into any company’s financial structure. That smacks of suspicion.”

  “Maybe we can find out who is connected with this IP address and put a stop to it.”

  “Now that’s a good idea,” the man responded, contemplating his newly created smoke rings as they floated up in the air in a stack.

  • • •

  That evening, Laura checked over everyone’s notes from the previous day’s walk around and inside the hotel where the theft had occurred. She compiled a master set of details from her friends’ notebooks. From there, she looked the hotel up online and noted its exterior outline, where the parking areas were, and the entrances and exits, as well as location of perimeter roads and accesses to main roads and highways.

  She printed out the layout from their website and made marks corresponding to all four ladies’ notes. Then she texted Connor asking if he could get her an interior layout of the first two floors of the hotel. He emailed it to her within thirty minutes.

  Then she sat in front of the big television screen to which she had switched her laptop display, overlaid the interior over the exterior, covered her mouth and chin with her hand, and stared at everything.

  Now the wheels were turning.

  Next, she emailed Connor for a thumb drive of the CCTV footage both inside and outside the hotel beginning the evening the security folks were supposed to bring things to the vault room through the next twenty-four hours.

  About forty-five minutes later, her iPhone dinged and she saw that Connor was at the back door. She ran downstairs to let him in, as he didn’t yet have the new code.

  “Remind me to give you the new code so you can come in when you want.”

  He handed her a thumb drive.

  “That was quick.”

  “We already had one for a longer period of time than what you wanted. Brianna made you a copy.”

  “Thanks to both of you. If you have a minute, can you come upstairs and see what I found? Have you eaten yet today?”

  Connor shook his head and followed her up the stairs to her apartment. He stood back to get a good view of the TV entire screen and its image of the interior of the first floor of the hotel, showing outdoor parking and entrances/exits.

  “Tell me what I’m looking at.”

  “Well, you didn’t tell me what I should be doing for this theft yet, so here’s what I went ahead and did because of the time crunch.”

  She used her cursor to show him where the vault room was located on the first floor of the hotel within a fireproofed, heavily sound-proofed second room, the hallway outside this second room, and where that hallway led in all directions. She directed him to where the elevators, entrances, and exits all were and the possible points of entry and exit from the hotel on that side, as well as places where a truck or van could load or unload something.

  Then she pulled leftover chicken from the fridge and popped it into the microwave. While it was warming, she continued.

  “Okay, we know approximately what time the armored truck left Jenna’s house and when it arrived at the hotel. None of that is in dispute. Let’s take a look at the CCTV footage.” Here, she popped the thumb drive into a slot on her laptop and they viewed the footage on the big screen.

  After fast-forwarding through the first day until the time of late evening when the armored truck was supposed to arrive, she slowed it to normal speed, watched the truck stop, turn around and back up to one of the entrances to the hotel. Laura switched back to her layout rendering and pointed to which entrance they were using and the pathway from there to the vault room. The footage showed the security team bringing the items in on carts, going down the hall, using a keycard to enter the outside room and transporting everything that came from the truck into the room outside the vault room. She paused the video when Connor turned to her and put a hand up.

  “There are two files on the thumb drive, Laura. One is what we just saw, and the other is the CCTV footage from inside the room in which the vault room is.”

  The microwave beeped indicating the chicken had reheated. Laura pulled the plate and handed it, along with a knife and fork, and a bottle of chilled water, to Connor. She followed it up with a piece of leftover apple pie from the fridge and a can of whipped cream. At first, he lo
oked too tired to eat. Apparently, he was hungry enough to find the strength once he spied the apple pie.

  She returned to her computer, opened the other file, and they watched the security team continue their task of keycard entry into the actual vault room and delivering everything from the truck into the vault room. They pulled the door shut on the vault, tested that it was locked, and left with their empty carts, pulling the door shut on the outer room and testing it, too, to make sure it was locked.

  “Wait,” Connor said. “Back that up a bit to where they pull the vault door shut.”

  She did so.

  “Two seconds are missing. There’s also a brief flash up in the corner. See it?”

  Laura backed it up two more times and they viewed it in slow motion.

  “Yikes! You’re right.”

  “Somebody messed with the video feeds. I’ll let Frye know, and you wait to hear from me.” He wrote down the time in the feed where he noticed the problem in his notebook.

  “Connor, I’m sure his team would have found this, but please tell him that there’s a distinct possibility that the stolen items never left the hotel. There’s too much risk in their putting that many things back into a truck outside; some random person outdoors or someone looking out their window at the stars would likely witness their doing it. See if Nolan can find out if there are any rooms that have had ‘do not disturb’ hangtags on their doorknobs for the past five days straight. It is likely on the second floor. They would need the elevator to be empty, and that’s hard to guarantee for more than one floor in a hotel as busy as this one. We’ll need the video from the elevator nearest this room, too. And, Connor? That means the security team is involved.”

  He finished up his pie, which was overloaded with whipped cream, and rose.

  “Okay, I’ll tell him. And you’re all set for tomorrow. Agent Howard Marck will be here to pick you up promptly at nine. My mother will arrive sometime around eight so you can get her used to the register again and show her where everything is. I will check back with you at the end of the day on how your interviews went.”

  She stood at the top of the staircase so he couldn’t get past her and held out her arms.

  “I won’t keep you,” she whispered. “Go tell Frye.”

  But he took his time holding her close and their good-night kiss was one for the books.

  thirty-one

  Nine o’clock came slowly for Laura Keene. She and Alison Fitzpatrick had long since finished their coffee and breakfast rolls, reviewed the register functions, and gone over the layout of the shop with all the new stuff. There was also a warning about the sticky orange jelly beans getting around the floor and where the mop was so no one slipped and got hurt.

  Alison now fussed about the bunny stuff, taking some for Shannon’s little girl. She also put aside two egg decorating kits for Ian’s boys.

  “Do you really think those two will sit down and decorate eggs, Alison? Last time I saw them, they were laser-tagging and paint-balling each other.”

  “They will if their mother, Maddy, tells them the eggs are for Grandma for Easter.”

  Laura smiled.

  “You are devious.”

  “And I will not take a discount on anything you sell me.”

  “Then I will cook dinner for you on a day of your choice, perhaps your birthday.”

  Alison laughed.

  “Okay. Agreed.”

  Then they both saw the FBI agent at the front door, and Laura was off on her interviewing adventure for the day.

  • • •

  Duluth was proving not to be as helpful in locating his twin as Justin had hoped. But he did come across what he believed to be a clue. So he decided to stay another day or two in the StarPoint Hotel just on the outskirts of the city.

  He swallowed hard and felt the usual pressure returning to his temples.

  You just can’t go up to someone and say you believe you’re related to them. Maybe it was a good thing he had trouble finding his twin—gave him time to think about it all.

  Then he had a wild thought: What would happen if he never found his twin? Once that thought was out there, he had to set it aside and think about later. First he needed to eliminate all the possibilities. It was a bridge he didn’t need to cross today.

  So his decision was to stay at the StarPoint for a while, follow his leads further and perhaps succeed in his quest. He planned to be as inconspicuous as possible while he did his research, thinking, and preparing. Oh yes, and working up the courage he needed to do this thing…this encounter, should he actually find his twin.

  The StarPoint Hotel was on the northeast border of Duluth, near Highway 61, so it attracted a lot of traffic and patrons just passing through. Nobody would think he was anything except one of those. Or at least they shouldn’t.

  He was standing in the lobby, flipping through brochures of things to see and do in and about Duluth when he noticed someone staring at him from across the lobby.

  A big, tall, husky cop with a cowboy hat and a holstered sidearm.

  He waited as the Minnesota Peace Officer approached.

  “You look a little familiar,” the officer said. “Do I know you?”

  The young man noticed the two stripes on the officer’s sleeve and the name tag.

  “I don’t believe so…Corporal Mortensen. This is my first time in this part of the state. I’m on a personal trek to see parts of Minnesota I’ve never seen before.”

  Mortensen sized him up. Clean-cut, intelligent, clear eyes, good manners.

  “You driving all over the state?”

  “No, I use public transportation. Haven’t bought a car yet. Saving up from my job while I pay off student loans.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Justin Carlson. I’m from Mankato. Just got my Bachelor’s in Mechanical Engineering a couple years ago.”

  “UMinn?”

  Carlson nodded.

  “Congrats. That’s a tough school to make it through. I don’t get down to Mankato too often,” the officer continued. “And I don’t know your name, but you remind me of someone I know—I guess that’s all it is. Sorry to bother you. Enjoy your trek.”

  Carlson watched as the policeman rejoined two others in what looked to be a small gathering of police officers walking down the hallway toward one of the smaller banquet rooms. Must be some event, he thought, and found a sign on the other side of the front desk mentioning a room that was reserved. It did not say by whom.

  Did he just have one of those faces? Carlson wondered. Or did he really look like someone this cop knew? Interesting, but perhaps he should stay someplace else. After all, he didn’t want to attract attention at this point. It was too early.

  Carlson decided not to run from the hotel, though, as that might draw even more notice. He would stay tonight and leave in the morning, finding a different hotel off the beaten track where he wouldn’t be noticed while he figured out how to find his twin.

  And his own past still haunted him, especially the three months he had lost in a coma. Headaches reminded him of it, from time to time. Right now, he was feeling it and pressed two fingers to each temple, breathing slowly until it passed.

  Then a thought struck him.

  If he looked familiar to someone from this area, maybe he was really very close to finding the woman who was his twin.

  thirty-two

  Connor stopped at Laura’s place after his workday was over, which was funny whenever he thought about it. His workday was never over.

  Her phone dinged when he got there, and she remembered she hadn’t given him the new code. She tucked a small slip of paper in his hand when she opened the door downstairs.

  “Memorize it and burn it,” she said, getting caught up for a minute in his arms again.<
br />
  “How did today go?”

  “I was just finishing up my summary and notes.”

  “How was Agent Marck?”

  “He was good. Mostly quiet. Good muscle in case anything went sideways.”

  “Did it?”

  “No. Are you hungry?”

  “You had time to cook?”

  “Simple meal. Fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, peas. Hope you don’t mind the potatoes are instant.”

  “Course not.” Fitzpatrick was thinking it was the only kind he had made since he left home.

  “It’s almost ready.”

  She started toward the staircase, turned around.

  “It’s upstairs.”

  Laura allowed Connor to have his uninterrupted meal then placed him in her father’s favorite chair and handed him a second beer. She walked and talked and pointed to the notes on the huge TV screen.

  “Dante Lelanley is a very nice man. And he didn’t have anything to do with Brittany’s disappearance. He’s still in love with her.”

  Connor stared at her.

  “When Agent Marck and I waltzed into his office without an appointment, he was surprised but not upset. He owns a startup software company and had a picture of his wife and baby daughter on his desk. All Marck and I had to say was that we wanted to talk to him about a cold case.

  “It hurt to see the hope in his eyes. He asked, ‘Did you find her?’ and was devastated all over again when we had to tell him no. I’ll skip through everything, except the fact that he said she wanted to be an actress…no surprise there…to the one thing we did learn from him that we didn’t know. Which is that, when the song ended and he and Brittany finished dancing, and she said she needed to go to the restroom, on her way there, she turned back to look at him and she winked.”