I’ve got to hand it to Kim. She knows how to create a diversion. Besides, I do like to know what’s happening locally as well as worldwide.”
With the dishes in the sink and full bellies, we settled down to watch the Morning News with Skyler North. I really did need to get my mind off what was going on—at least for a short while.
All of a sudden there was a loud racket on the patio. Of course. Maxi and Minnie hadn’t gotten their morning bread crumbs and they were letting me know about it. You had to laugh at them, the demanding little quackers.
Kate said, “Okay, go take care of your children. I’ll press the pause button so we don’t miss anything.”
When I opened the door, I saw what the racket was all about. Sure they wanted to be fed, but somehow Minnie had gotten her poor lame foot twisted up in the hose I keep for watering my plants and she couldn’t get free. Maxi was frantic, pecking at the hose while Minnie struggled to escape. Other ducks had joined them and were all bustling around trying to help Minnie. Poor babies.
It only took a moment to get Minnie’s leg free and check to make sure she wasn’t hurt. I opened the bread crumb container and threw out generous helpings so all of the ducks would get something, then went back into the house.
“Wow. It wasn’t that they were just hungry. There must have been fifteen ducks out there and Minnie was tangled up in my garden hose. Everything is fine now, so let’s see what disasters await on the news.”
Kate pressed the Play button.
After a rundown of problems in Afghanistan, threats from North Korea, and a stalemate on bills in the Senate, Skyler North assumed a pained expression which was unusual for her. Normally, even with bad news, her fake smile still flavored what she said. However, today her voice was somber.
“I am personally sad to report that today the advertising world lost one of its icons—Tyler Cunningham, a partner in the well-known Century City firm of Reid/Cunningham Advertising.”
A shout escaped my lips. “Hit the pause, Kate. What? Tyler Cunningham? Did I hear correctly?”
Kate’s voice was calm. “She said lost. Maybe he announced that he’s retiring, which would most likely solve your problems.”
“No,” I said. “It didn’t sound like that. Let’s listen.”
She pressed Play and the newscast resumed. “Tyler Cunningham’s body was discovered at his desk this morning by his secretary.”
She lifted a manicured hand to her face and appeared to wipe a tear from her eye, but I wasn’t sure if that was real or staged. You know those TV people.
After a barely noticeable gulp, she said, “Cunningham was murdered, my friends, and I pray justice is swift and they find the person responsible for his death. He might not have been the most charming guy around, but he took me under his wing when I first began as a production assistant at this station, and taught me so much.”
Her co-anchor, a thirtyish fellow with hair so styled it look like it wouldn’t even move in a windstorm said, “Just awful. Are there any more details at this time?”
She made that wipe-away-the-tears hand gesture again, and this time I was sure it was for the benefit of the cameras. “When the night security guard made his rounds, he stated he saw him working late, and even made a little joke about burning the candle at both ends. He says Cunningham seemed to be okay, but does not remember him leaving the building. People who work late in that building are not required to sign out and often leave without his seeing them.”
She began to say something else, then looked as if she’d been kicked under their news desk. Whatever the thought, it was lost in a generic babble about increased crime rates.
I looked over at my friends. “Does it seem she was about to say something more, then stopped for some reason? Like whether the police have a suspect already? Or how he was killed?”
In the background, the good hair guy said in his announcer voice, “More details as they unfold. Tyler Cunningham, dead at the age of sixty-eight.” That was followed by a commercial for a prescription drug that could only cause you rapid heartbeat, kidney problems, migraine headaches, and other awful side effects including death, but you would have skin as smooth and winkle-free as a baby’s butt.
Kate clicked off the broadcast. “I know this sounds hard-hearted and cold, and I hate to say it, but maybe this is the end of your troubles. Do you think Reid will continue assaults on you?”
My thoughts were all over the place. There were many people who couldn’t stand the man, and then there were those like Skyler North who had good things to say about him. Sure, he was a person I really do hate. But even with that hatred, would it cause me to want him dead? Maybe in fantasy but reality is another thing. In the end it was just business, after all—even if it caused me lots of heartache and desire for revenge over the years. Deep down I was sorry he apparently died a violent death.
I answered Kate slowly. “I guess I can only hope that’s the case—I mean the end of my troubles, but I sure hate learning that he had to die for that to be a possibility. It may sound nuts because of the way I feel about him, but I am sorry he was murdered. I hope he didn’t suffer much. I would have felt better if he died of plain meanness.”
Kim got up and said, “To be continued. Sorry guys. Secret agent Kimberly on the job. Gotta go. I’ve got to fill the Director in on my findings, and then I guess I’m off the case.” She picked up her handbag and briefcase, then headed for the door.
29
KATE WANTED TO SEE a few of her clients while she was in the LA area, and left shortly after Kim. I sat there alone, haunted by my thoughts.
Beginning with learning about Kim’s attempt to uncover someone suspected of informing a money laundering ring about upcoming raids and Marjory’s hit-and-run murder, what a crazy sequence of days it had been. What was Nathan thinking when he appointed his wife, one of my best friends, to a possibly dangerous undercover task force. But, he did and now we were knee-deep in what I could only call intrigue. As if that wasn’t enough, add the fact that my office had apparently been broken into, then top it off with hearing about Tyler Cunningham’s murder in a news broadcast. Too many coincidental connections. I had to wonder if the information Marjory found, her death and Kim’s investigation might somehow be connected. It did sound far-fetched, but what were the odds of all these things happening pretty much at the same time? Were my two friends each involved in a piece of the same puzzle?
I felt as though it was the middle of a TV mystery series starring us. To tell the truth, I didn’t like that feeling one bit. What next? I just wanted things to go back to normal.
It didn’t take long for the next piece of the puzzle to present itself. Maggie called, and before I could tell her about the apparent break-in the night before and ask her to arrange for the locks, she said, “Have you heard about Cunningham? It was on the news when I was driving into work. Guess we don’t have to worry about him anymore. That bastard. I hope he likes hot places.”
I told her I did know about it and chuckled at her “hot places” comment.
Before I could tell her about evidence that confirmed someone had been in the office, she said, “By the way, were you here last night? A homicide detective, um, let’s see—I’ve got his name here—oh, yeah, an Alvin McCrary called, said he wanted to set up a time to talk to you. He mentioned that your name was on the after-hours log and left a number for you to call.”
My heart literally slammed against my ribs. Why would a homicide detective want to talk to me? I didn’t like it one bit that he mentioned my name being on the night log. I doubted it had anything to do with Marjory’s case, so as I saw it the only thing it could relate to was the one I really feared—Cunningham. I had shouted that the best place for them was DEAD, and that’s exactly the state Tyler Cunningham was in now—ready to push up the daisies. Did the cops suspect I might be the someone who gave him the golden ticket to the Pearly Gates, or wherever he was headed?
I took a few deep breaths before saying, “Um,
yes, I was there last night. Had to pick something up I needed.” I decided against mentioning the break-in right then. “Okay, give me his number and I’ll call him to see what it’s about.”
Well, I wasn’t about to call him right then. I wanted to talk it over with my friends, because if there was one thing I definitely didn’t want to do it was to react without thinking it through. The feeling niggled at me—the best case scenario was maybe I would be regarded as a person of interest because I was in the building. Unfortunately, the worst case—a possible suspect. Let’s face it. I’d done everything wrong. Wrong words shouted in the Century Cafe, wrong fight in Tyler’s office and worst of all, absolutely wrong time to have been in the building after hours. I did what any person under stress would do. I went to the fridge, took out what was left of the chocolate cherry cheesecake and gulped it down like a person eating their last dinner. It didn’t relieve my anxiety.
I flicked on the TV and tuned to a replay of Colombo. Bad choice! About fifteen minutes into the episode, he began to investigate a murder in his typical Columbo way. I kept trying to picture what Detective McCrary would ask me. Would he be sneaky like Columbo, pretending to be a bumbling detective who was, in fact, as sly as a fox? Would he be hard-hitting, and accuse me of murder, that is, assuming they determined I had a good motive and the opportunity? Or, would he make it seem like they only wanted some background information while he was secretly maneuvering me into a trap? I watch enough mystery shows on TV to know their moves.
I wanted to call Milt, but he would only agonize and insist upon dropping everything so he could come over to be my support. I wasn’t up for that. Instead I tried to concentrate on Columbo’s techniques while my stomach jumped around like a gymnast on a trampoline. Thank goodness right about the time I was ready to scream out loud, Kim returned.
She plopped down in one of the chairs, kicked off her shoes, and sighed. “You won’t believe what I found out from the Director. I guess my wonderful husband authorized him to share more information since I did a good job of identifying Stephanie, so I’m not off of it yet. This whole money laundering operation is unbelievable. When he outlined what he wants me to do, I told him if I was to do anything more to help them, they would have to clear you and Kate to work with me. I said I’m sure not going out on a limb myself.”
She got up and literally bounced around the room. “Hey, Cami. We’ll be back in the groove like Nancy Drews or Charlie’s Angels. Since Nathan knows both of you so well he vouched for both of you and your “undercover” skills.”
That got my attention. “Um, undercover skills? You mean like almost getting killed because we didn’t listen to the FBI when they told us to back off last time?”
She smiled. “Okay, that, but look—in the end we brought those embezzlers down and had them all trussed up for the FBI agents when they finally got there, didn’t we? Hey, we’re the triple threat. Don’t mess with us. Anyway, the Director called Nathan back and said he’d look into pulling some strings to get a temporary clearance for this case only. Are you up for it?”
Thank you God. Something to distract my agonizing about whatever Detective McCrary would throw at me. Besides, I’d look much more credible if the U.S. government trusted me. The gymnasts in my stomach took their jumping down to stepping lightly. “Count me in. What next?”
As soon as I hear from him, I’ll be authorized to clue you and Kate in on what’s involved. I know she’ll love it—it’s the mother of all frauds. All I can say at the moment is it involves us taking a little shopping trip to the Fashion District.”
30
THAT SOUNDED LIKE FUN. I couldn’t resist asking, “Are we shopping on the government’s dime?” Kim gave me a funny look without answering my quip.
“Um, Cami, is something bothering you?” She pointed to the dish on the coffee table where a few crumbs of the cheesecake remained. “Did you eat the whole thing?”
Feeling a little sheepish, I answered. “Guilty as charged.” Oh Hell. Guilty? My heart resumed gymnastics while I pictured a stern-faced jury foreman looking directly at me as he said, “Guilty of murder in the first degree.” I tried to clear my head. .
“Look, I think I’ve got a problem. I never should have gone to my office last night, but don’t we all wish we had 20/20 hindsight?”
She sat down next to me on the sofa and put her arm around my shoulders.
“You’re shaking. What’s going on?”
That’s when the tears managed to escape, totally tracking mascara down my cheeks. “An LAPD homicide detective wants to talk to me. He called the office and I have to call him back. I’m so afraid it has something to do with Cunningham. You know me. I didn’t do anything to hasten his demise. Sure, I hated that jerk, but I’m not a killer, and I get the feeling I might be on their radar. What am I going to do??”
Kim has always been very level-headed, and she didn’t disappoint. “First, before you call him back, we are going to look at this logically. Do you want to wait until Kate comes back, or should we talk about it now?”
I managed to squeak out, “Ka-Kate...back...”
“Then let me fix you a cup of tea.” She glanced at her watch. “According to what she said, she should be back in about half-an-hour. I noticed chamomile tea in your cabinet along with what looks like thirty other kinds, and chamomile is supposed to be very soothing.”
While she went into the kitchen to make the tea, I retreated to the powder room to dab at the black streaks on my cheeks. One look in the mirror, and I had to laugh. I looked like a member of Kiss without the funky hair and platform boots. By the time we were both back in the living room, at least I felt slightly normal and my full panic mode wasn’t quite so full.
I sipped at the hot tea and tried to relax—not an easy task.
Bless Kim, she tried to take my mind off pending disaster, or at least that’s what I pictured. Sure, Ramon saw me, but who’s to say I didn’t go down one floor to confront my old boss before or after going to my office? And, for that matter, who was rummaging around in my things, apparently more than once?
“So,” she said, interrupting the kaleidoscope of images featuring me as the target of a murder investigation, “I know I’ll have to repeat this when Kate comes back, but this is like something novels are made of. Let me tell you why we’re going on this little shopping trip in the Fashion District. Who would have thought it was anything like this?”
To understand what she was about to reveal, you need to know about the Los Angeles Fashion District. I have a few clients in the business, so I can shop there under their umbrella and resale number and, trust me, I’ve found some wonderful samples totally at wholesale. For example, my gorgeous briefcase sells for anywhere from $750 to as much as $1500, depending upon where it’s purchased. I only paid $375 for it. So, I know a little about the “ropes” of the garment business and markups.
As far as I know, about eighty percent of the LA Fashion District is made up of businesses related to the wholesale garment trade. They all gather there—buyers, retailers, wholesalers and designers. That creates an exciting synergy that’s like the heart of Los Angeles fashion. The world looks to LA and the LA Fashion District for cutting edge styles. Simply put, LA is a very important influence on the way the world dresses.
Over two-thousand independent wholesalers and various apparel marts throughout the hundred-block district get into the act five times a year at market weeks. Buyers come from all over the world.
So, the question I had to ask myself was what could this fashion community possibly have to do with drug and gun money laundering?
For whatever reason the Feds had cooked up, it would still be fun to hit the shops and showrooms.
Kim said, “I know you’re pretty familiar with the Mart and have some favorite manufacturers who sell you wholesale samples. Lucky you, size six. See, you do have something to be grateful for. Since I’ve been married to Nate, I went from an eight to a ten, but I keep vowing to do more exercise
and watch my food. It’s really hard with all of the important dinners we go to. Anyway, we’ll be going to a few of the locations that aren’t in the Mart, pretending to shop for clients who are suppliers to several clothing store chains in Mexico. I have a list of the places they want us to visit, but of course there’s a lot more to it than just shopping.”
“And, we are doing this because—“
Kim’s face took on the look of the hunt. Raised eyebrows, sparkling eyes and a slightly wry smile. I couldn’t wait to hear her answer. “Because—“
Just then my cell phone buzzed. The screen presented an unfamiliar number, but something told me to answer it.
“Cameron Harsen speaking.”
A slightly gruff male voice said, “My name is Detective Alvin McCrary, with LAPD Homicide. I left a message at your office, but when you didn’t return the call, I called again and spoke to your receptionist who gave me this number.”
I hoped my voice didn’t shake when I said, “What can I do for you, Detective McCrary?”
“I need to talk to you about Tyler Cunningham. Your name was on the after-hours log at your office building.”
Do you know how hard it is to make yourself sound clueless and relaxed when your heart and brain are dancing hip-hop? Breathe, breathe. “Yes, I was there last night. I heard about the murder. That’s scary and awful, but why do you need to talk to me?”
Did I hear a snicker on the other end? Was I sounding defensive? I hoped not.
“Miss Harsen, we will discuss that when we meet. I can come to your house or you can come down to the station. Either one is okay with me.”
I gulped a few times, thinking buy time! I said. “My house.” That way I could make sure Kim and Kate sat in on it. “I, um, have an appointment, but I’ll be back here at five-thirty. Do you have the address?”
He didn’t, so I gave it to him along with directions.
Discussion of what Kim had learned would have to wait. Right now, we had to go over whatever I was going to say and anything I had to keep quiet about.
Payback Page 11
