Duffel Bags And Drownings (10 page)

“It’s all set?” I asked, sitting down in front of her desk.

She opened the file. “Maisie’s will be here with the costumes this afternoon. The
servers and bartenders are scheduled and will arrive shortly. The food is being prepared
in our kitchen right now, exactly as the clients requested. Those detectives gave
us access to the ice room so the ice sculptures will be on display. Everything—absolutely
everything—we’re responsible for will come off flawlessly at the Brannock party tonight,
just as I promised.”

She didn’t come off smug or snarky about it, just confident and anxious to let me
know she had everything under control.

“Great,” I said, and heaved a little sigh of relief. “And Cady is okay? She’ll be
at the event to oversee the food?”

Faye’s high-wattage smile dimmed for a second or two, then beamed once more.

“Cady is fine,” she assured me, with a calmness that made me think she’d said those
same words a zillion times before. “Please believe me, Haley. I have everything under
control at my company. Everything.”

Though I’d had my doubts, I could see that Faye did indeed have all phases of the
business firmly in hand. No wonder it had grown three times over in the past year.

“And to ensure you’re completely happy with everything,” Faye said, “I will be at
the Brannock party tonight overseeing things.”

“Thank you, Faye,” I said, rising from my chair.

“See you tonight,” she said.

I gave her a little wave and left the building.

I walked across the parking lot toward my Honda feeling as if a huge weight had lifted.
Just as Faye had always told me, everything would be great for the Brannocks’ party
tonight.

And things would look pretty darn good for me, too, I realized.

I pictured next week’s office meeting at L.A. Affairs. Everyone would be there. Priscilla
would walk to the podium and announce that I’d discovered a fabulous new catering
company. Everyone would be in awe. Priscilla would ask me to stand. I’d rise and channel
my mother’s gracious smile and a pageant queen wave. Everything would be perfect.
Unless—

I stopped in my tracks at the front fender of my car.

What if there really was another murder tonight? Suppose whoever had killed Jeri showed
up and targeted another victim?

Oh, crap.

A new, horrifying scenario played out my head that might take place at L.A. Affairs’
next weekly office meeting: Priscilla announcing that the company’s reputation had
been flushed and it was all my fault—followed by everyone watching as I was escorted
out of the building by a security guard.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I unlocked my Honda and dropped into the driver’s seat. I’d looked at this case from
several different sides but hadn’t come up with anything—except that there was a huge
chunk of info missing. If only I could figure out what it was.

Then it hit me.

Yes, something big and important was missing from the investigation, but something
equally big and important was holding it together. There was a common thread that
connected everything—divorce and cheating spouses. Jeri and her married boyfriend;
Jack’s divorce case that had brought him to the Cady Faye Catering shopping center;
Jeri’s roommate who worked for a divorce attorney; the duffel bag packed for an illicit
getaway.

I knew of only two places to find info on divorce and cheating spouses—Jack Bishop
and Molly at the attorney’s office.

I pulled out my cell phone and called Jack. He didn’t answer so I left him a message
asking for info on his cheating husband case.

“I’m going to the office of that divorce attorney who’s plastered his picture all
over the place, Rowland Horowitz,” I said. “It’s in Burbank. Call me. I’ll meet you
somewhere.”

I started my car and headed out.

* * *

I was passing Studio City on the 101 freeway when my cell phone rang. I switched on
my Bluetooth thinking it was Jack calling back, but it was Marcie.

“Great news,” she said. “Are you sitting down?”

“Yes,” I said, because, technically, I was.

“Our Flirtatious bags came in!” Marcie exclaimed.

I nearly veered onto the shoulder.

“Oh my God! Your friend came through for us at Nordstrom?” I asked.

“She just called me,” Marcie said. “But here’s the thing.”

I hate it when there’s a thing.

“We have to pick them up right away,” Marcie said. “She can’t hold them long. Everybody
wants one of these bags and there could be a throw-down right there in the handbag
department if anybody realizes she’s holding them back.”

I mentally ran through my schedule for the day. I had to talk to Molly at the lawyer’s
office, find out what was up with Jack’s divorce case, check on a few last minute
details for the Brannock party, arrive at their house early enough to oversee the
party prep—and, hopefully, solve Jeri’s murder or at least find a viable suspect.

Picking up two fabulous handbags from Nordstrom would be no problem.

“I got this,” I told her.

“Awesome,” Marcie said.

“I’ll call you when I have them,” I promised and we hung up.

I exited the freeway and drove to the office of attorney Rowland Horowitz on Alameda
Avenue, parked in the lot behind the building and went inside. Two women were seated
on opposite sides of the waiting room filling out forms. A woman I didn’t recognize
was working at the desk behind the receptionist’s window. None of them looked happy
to be there.

I approached the window and asked, “Is Molly here?”

A few seconds passed before she lifted her head to look at me. She was mid-forties
and had a definite I-hate-everyone-especially-young-pretty-women look about her.

“She’s out.”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?” I asked.

“No,” she replied. “What do you need?”

I didn’t want to cause Molly any problems by admitting I was here for something personal,
so I said, “I’ll come back later.”

I left the office mentally re-shuffling my plan for the day, then everything flew
out of my head when I spotted Jack Bishop standing beside my car. I’d wanted to talk
to him but I hadn’t expected him to meet me here. Still, it’s always a treat to see
a hot-looking guy so early in the day.

Jack, however, didn’t seem so pleased to see me despite my fabulous brown business
suit and my even more fabulous Louis Vuitton handbag. I decided to come right to the
point.

“I’m thinking there’s a connection between your divorce case and the murder at Cady
Faye Catering,” I said.

“The murder you’re not supposed to be involved with?” Jack asked.

“That’s the one.”

Really, I didn’t know why Jack wasted his breath cautioning me not to get involved
with this sort of thing. He knew what I was like.

“So what happened?” I asked.

Jack gave me semi stink eye for a few seconds, just to show he wasn’t pleased with
what I was doing, which I took as a semi compliment.

“I started tailing the guy as he left his apartment complex in Encino,” Jack said.
“He drove to the shopping center, stopped near the construction site. A woman got
out and he drove away.”

“Who was the woman?” I asked.

“Not my concern,” Jack said. “I followed him down Ventura Boulevard to the McDonald’s.
He went inside, but came out again a few minutes later. The guy drove to his place,
swapped cars, and went back to the shopping center. A block away, the same woman was
on foot. He picked her up.”

I got a weird feeling.

“Pictures?” Jack asked.

My weird feeling got weirder.

“Sure,” I said, but I was pretty sure I already knew who’d I’d see in the photos.

Jack pulled his cell phone from his pocket, tapped the keys, then handed it to me.
On the screen was the image of a white Mercedes parked in the shopping center. A man
I didn’t recognize was behind the wheel. The woman getting out was Cady.

Oh, crap.

I’d seen a photo of Cady’s husband in Faye’s office so I knew this guy wasn’t him.
I told Jack who she was as I paged through the series of surveillance pictures he’d
taken that day. When I came across a photo of Cady and the guy kissing, I knew she
was having an affair. Jack didn’t seem surprised.

“The thing with her arriving, then leaving, and him picking her up on the street and
driving back again in a different vehicle is suspicious,” I said.

It explained, though, why some of the employees at the catering company reported seeing
Cady there earlier, and why they’d thought they’d seen her car was in the parking
lot.

“It could have been something innocent,” Jack said. “They’re in love. Maybe she wanted
to see him again. Maybe they had a fight and one of them wanted to apologize.”

“Cady is really high-strung,” I said. “I can totally see her walking into the kitchen
and getting overwhelmed with the day’s work. Three events in one day. That’s a lot.
Maybe she couldn’t face it without another hug from her boyfriend.”

“Maybe she forgot something,” Jack said. “She called him and he brought it to her.”

Those were all believable, reasonable scenarios. Still, something didn’t seem right.

“So why swap cars?” I asked. “Maybe the guy thought he was being followed.”

Jack looked mildly irked at my suggestion that he’d been discovered, but he didn’t
say so.

“Or maybe Cady killed Jeri,” Jack said.

I’d considered that possibility before, but still couldn’t connect all the dots.

“There’s no motive—at least, not one I’ve found,” I said. “And Cady was a wreck when
Lourdes told her Jeri was dead. An absolute wreck. She lost it, big-time.”

Jack and I both stood there for a while looking at the photos on his phone.

“The whole thing is suspicious,” I said.

“It is,” Jack agreed. “I talked to the cops.”

Okay, this surprised me, but I guess it shouldn’t have. Jack wasn’t some rogue private
detective operating on the fringes of the law, dodging cops and formal investigations.

“The detectives assigned to the case?” I asked.

“Grayson,” he said.

That explained why Dan had gone been back to question Cady, and why he’d come to Holt’s
and asked me about her arrival on the day of the murder. Obviously, he was investigating
Cady. But since he’d made no arrest, it seemed he hadn’t uncovered any conclusive
evidence.

I handed Jack’s phone back to him.

“Let me know if anything shakes loose,” he said.

“I will,” I said, and was pleased he hadn’t told me not to get further involved with
the investigation.

Jack got in his Land Rover and drove away. I stood in the parking lot thinking about
everything I’d just learned about Cady.

True, her behavior was odd, weird, and more than a little suspicious. But having an
affair, arriving at Cady Faye Catering only to leave on foot and then return in a
different vehicle was a long way from committing a murder.

I dug my keys out of my purse as a car pulled into the lot and swung into a space
near the rear entrance to the law firm. Molly got out juggling her purse, a bundle
of mail, and a tray of coffees from Starbucks.

I walked over. She didn’t look so happy to see me.

“I have to get inside,” Molly said, and hurried toward the building’s rear entrance.

I didn’t see any reason to finesse this conversation, so I asked, “Why did Jeri think
Cady Faye Catering would go out of business?”

“She just did, that’s all,” Molly said.

Then something hit me.

I stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop and said, “Horowitz is handling Cady’s
divorce, isn’t he?”

“We’re not supposed to talk about those things,” Molly said, and ducked around me.

“Jeri was your roommate. You mentioned it to her, right?” I got in front of her and
put my hand on the door as if I was going to open it for her, but didn’t. “Right?”

“Yes, okay, fine,” Molly told me. “I mentioned it to her. We’re handling Jeri’s boyfriend’s
divorce. I knew Jeri and Cady worked at the same place. I thought Jeri had told her
to come here.”

“But Jeri hadn’t referred her?” I asked.

“No,” Molly said. “And she was really upset when I told her what was going on.”

“It had something to do with the terms of Cady’s divorce?” I asked.

“Don’t you think I feel bad enough about this?” Molly demanded. “I shouldn’t have
said anything to Jeri about what was going on. Now she’s dead.”

Molly pushed past me and disappeared into the building.

I headed back to my car, my mind whirling.

Cady’s divorce had riled Jeri big-time and had caused her to predict the catering
company would go out of business. But had that somehow evolved into a murder?

Maybe.

I got into my car and Detective Dan Grayson popped into my head. I considered telling
him what I’d just learned from Molly, the possible motive I’d uncovered. But I didn’t
know if he already knew about it.

No way did I want to look like an idiot by announcing my fantastic break in the case
if it was old news to him. Yet, if he didn’t already know about it, I really didn’t
want him to find his way to the law firm, question Molly, and learn that I’d already
been there getting info that I hadn’t told him about.

I dug through my purse, found the business card he’d given me, and called him. His
voicemail picked up so I left a message.

* * *

The Brannocks’ home was in an older neighborhood off Fairfax Avenue, on a street with
small, well-maintained houses in the million-plus dollar range. Parking was always
at a premium and today was no exception. As I drove past the house I saw that the
street parking was all taken, and the Brannocks’ driveway and was jammed with a florist’s
delivery van and trucks from the construction crew. A Cady Faye Catering van was just
pulling up; I was relieved to see they were here on time.

I’d already been here once today, this afternoon when I’d come by to make sure everything
was on schedule. The Brannocks wanted an outdoor party so I’d worked with Webber’s
Florist and Lyle, the guy who owned the construction company that L.A. Affairs often
used for this sort of event, to transform their backyard.