Shop Till You Drop (15 page)

Even Tara could see that Helen was eager to leave Juliana’s. “You go ahead,” Tara said. “I’ll lock up.” Helen left gratefully, never dreaming what would happen next.

“This wine is not bad,” Peggy the parrot lady said. “What month is it?”

Peggy and Helen were out by the pool after work, sipping wine and slapping mosquitoes. The sort of wine they could afford did not have a vintage year.

“Not sure,” said Helen. “I got it in a box at the drug store. I think it has an expiration date, though.”

Pete the parrot had his usual perch on Peggy’s shoulder. Helen reached out to pet Pete’s soft feathers with one finger, and he nuzzled her.

“He’s a love bird,” Helen said.

“Speaking of love, there he is,” Peggy said. “Wouldn’t you love to go out with the divine Daniel?”

Daniel Dayson looked even better the second time around. He seemed built on a different scale from ordinary men. His legs were strong as cypress trees. His arms were ropes of muscle. His long black hair rippled past his broad shoulders. Helen did not want to run her fingers through his hair. She wanted to grab it and hold on tight while he . . .

“Hello, Helen,” Daniel said. His dark blue eyes seemed to bore holes into her. She could feel her will power slowly leaking away.

“Hi,” Helen said. It was the most coherent thing she’d managed to say to Daniel since he’d moved in. What was the matter with her? She was too old to be acting this way.

“Would you like a glass of wine, Daniel?” Peggy said. “It’s a fresh box.”

“No, thanks, Peggy. Some other time I’d love to, but I have a date.” Daniel waved good-bye and walked back to his room. Helen watched his massive glutes move under the thin red fabric of his tiny gym shorts.

“He has a date every night,” Peggy said. “Same lucky girl. They usually wind up in his room. I should know. I live right next to him. I never hear a sound except his bedsprings—and the moans. My lord, the way that woman carries on. He leaves a satisfied customer.”

“Is that why you offered him a fresh box?” Helen said.

“Helen!” Peggy said.

Peggy and Helen started giggling and couldn’t stop. They were laughing so hard, they didn’t hear Cal come up behind them. It was the first time Helen had seen him since the disastrous Catfish Dewey’s date. Now Helen wondered what she could have seen in Cal. He seemed old and wizened, compared to the magnificent Daniel. She’d never noticed before that Cal’s chest was narrow. His legs, which she’d once admired, now seemed too skinny. And was he getting a bit of a dowager’s hump at his neck—or a permanent slouch?

“I was in the laundry room. Your boyfriend’s laundry is done, girls,” Cal said, nastily. “Who wants to fold his underwear?”

Peggy winked at Helen and said, “Oh, me, me, it’s my turn.” She moaned dramatically and fell backward into the chaise.

Pete let out a startled “Awwwk!” Cal stomped off without a word.

“Men!” Peggy said. “They’re all jealous.” That caused another fit of giggles. It was broken by Margery, who blew in like a purple tornado.

“Helen, you got an emergency call from the store on my phone,” she said. “I think it’s serious. First one of those you’ve ever had.”

“Is it Christina?” Helen asked, running for Margery’s apartment.

“No, some guy,” her landlady said.

Margery’s phone was on the TV tray next to her purple recliner. The caller was Paulie, Tara’s boyfriend. He sounded panicked.

“Helen? Is that you? Is it OK to call this number? Tara said you gave it to her for emergencies.”

“I did, Paulie. What’s wrong?”

“Tara hasn’t come home yet. It’s nine-thirty. Juliana’s closes at six. She called me and said she was going to lock up, then stop off at the supermarket. She should have been home by now. If she was going anywhere else, she would have told me. She’s very good about that. No one is answering the phone at the store, and her cell phone isn’t on. I’ve already called the hospitals and checked with the police, and she’s not been in a car accident. I’ll stay here in case she gets home. Could you go over to Juliana’s and see if everything is OK?”

“Of course, Paulie,” she said. “I’ll leave right now.”

She hung up the phone. “I’ll go with you,” Margery said.

“No, stay here in case Paulie calls again. He’s a real worrywart. Tara probably went shopping and lost track of the time.”

But Helen still ran to the store. She didn’t like what she saw when she got there. The lights were on. The alarm system was not. She did not see the “armed” light. She tried Juliana’s green door. The buzzer lock was on. She peeked in the window and saw clothes lying on the floor, a chair upended, a box of hangers overturned. She did not see any sign of Tara.

Helen’s heart was beating fast. She felt time slow down. Tara! Oh, my God. Where was she? Had she been kidnapped? Killed? Helen unlocked the green door and ran inside calling, “Tara! Tara! Where are you?” She heard a moan coming from a dressing room.

Helen threw open the dressing room door. Tara was lying on the floor. Her top was ripped down the front. A nasty bump on her forehead was rapidly turning purple. There was a small red smear of blood on her forehead. Tara groaned and tried to sit up, then fell back on the carpet as a single drop of blood slid down her face. Her long black hair fanned around her.

“Tara!” Helen knelt down beside her. “Tara! What happened? Who did this to you?”

“Two men,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “They forced their way in. They hurt me.”

“Did they . . .” Helen forced herself to say the word. “Did they rape you?”

“No,” Tara said. “They hit me—rammed my head into the wall.”

“Oh, Tara, oh, no, I’m so sorry. I should have never left you here alone. Don’t move. I’ll call the police and get an ambulance.”

“No!” Tara said, gripping her arm. She really seemed afraid now. “They’ll come back and hurt me.”

“That’s why we need the police.”

“Nooooo,” Tara wailed, trying to sit up again. “Please, just call Paulie.”

“Paulie would want me to call the police, too,” Helen said, firmly. “You stay there.” She ran to the phone outside the dressing room, dialed 911, then told the operator what happened.

“Have the intruders left the building? Is anyone else in the store?”

“I don’t know,” Helen said. “I just ran in when I saw the lights on and found Tara and called you. I could look around.”

“Stay right there, ma’am,” the 911 operator said. “Don’t hang up. Keep talking to me. We’ll have someone there in a moment.”

Helen could hear sirens, then the screech of tires. Two patrol cars pulled up in front of the store, and Helen ran up front to let them inside. The two officers looked enough alike to be twins. Both were about six feet tall with short dark hair and open boyish faces, until you saw their eyes. They had hawk’s eyes, alert and watchful. They walked like gunslingers. Helen found that comforting. One had a name tag that said T. Gerritsen. The other one was J. MacWilliams.

The two officers asked Helen to wait outside by the door. “But Tara’s in there,” she said.

“We know that, ma’am. We need to check things first,” Gerritsen said.

The two officers went inside Juliana’s, guns drawn. No one had ever entered the fabled green door that way, although a few women must have thought about it.

While she waited, Helen kept berating herself. She should have stayed with Tara until closing. Instead, she let herself get irritated by Tara’s silliness. What kind of manager was she? She couldn’t even stay another fifteen minutes to make sure Tara left the store safely. If anything happened to her, Helen would have two deaths on her hands—Desiree Easlee and Tara.

She was wringing her guilty hands when Officer Gerritsen reappeared. “The paramedics are on their way. They’ll check her out.”

Helen saw Tara sitting on the loveseat, talking to the other officer, MacWilliams. She wanted to sink down on the carpet and cry with relief.

“Can I see Tara?”

“In a little bit,” Gerritsen said. “We’re talking to her now. Do you have the boyfriend’s phone number?”

“Yes, sure. I should have called him. I’ll do that now.”

“We’ll do that,” the officer said. “We need you to see if anything is missing or damaged. Don’t touch anything. Just see if you can tell.”

Helen walked around the store, stepping carefully to avoid the clothes scattered on the carpet. There weren’t as many as she first thought. Six blouses were pulled off their padded hangers. A few belts were tossed around, along with an Hermes scarf and a Versace evening dress. A chair was overturned, and a box of hangers was spilled on the floor. But nothing was damaged. Even the money was still in the register, about five hundred dollars.

Helen told Officer Gerritsen that nothing was missing up front, not even the cash in the register. “But I’d better check the stockroom, just in case.”

Before she could do that, the paramedics arrived. They gave Tara an ice pack to put on her forehead and urged her to go to the emergency room or see her family doctor. Tara refused. She signed a release form, and the paramedics left.

Helen was shocked by her appearance. The bump on Tara’s forehead had swollen into a purple knot with green highlights. Her snakeskin top was nearly torn in two and she was missing one shoe. But Tara seemed alert and otherwise unhurt.

The police still would not let Helen talk with Tara. She went to the stockroom to finish the requested check. Everything looked undisturbed. The only odd thing was on the security panel. The store’s interior cameras had been turned off. Helen wondered if she or Tara had hit the wrong button and accidentally shut them off.

Helen could hear the police questioning Tara. She was telling her story for what sounded like the second or third time. Helen edged to the door and peeked out at the scene.

“I was getting ready to close,” Tara said. “It was almost six o’clock. That’s when we close. I was here alone because Helen went home early.”

Helen winced.

“Two black men forced their way into the store. They both had guns.”

“What did they look like?” Officer MacWilliams said.

Tara pulled her long hair forward until it hid her face. “One man was tall, sort of husky, muscular. I told you that. One was skinny and short, almost as short as me. I couldn’t see their faces. They were wearing ski masks and gloves.”

In South Florida? Helen wondered. No one on white bread Las Olas noticed two black men dressed like this?

“How did they get in?” MacWilliams asked.

Good question. Tara would have had to buzz them in.

“They knocked on the door and sort of pushed their way in,” Tara said, vaguely. “I’m not really sure. I guess I panicked when I saw the guns. They ran inside and started throwing things around. They kept asking me, ‘Where is it?’ I didn’t know what they were taking about.”

“Did you see them take anything, ma’am?”

“No,” she said.

“What about the money in the cash register? I understand there’s a considerable sum in there.”

“I didn’t get a chance to count it and put it in the safe,” she said. “I think the short one was going to the cash register when the tall one started hitting me. He hit me in the head.”

“I thought you said he pushed your head into the wall,” MacWilliams said.

“He did that, too,” Tara said, pulling her hair forward to hide more of her face. All Helen saw now was a black curtain of hair. “I’m sorry. I’m not making sense. My head hurts.”

“Just a few more questions, ma’am. When the tall man grabbed you, what did you do?”

“I fought with him, of course. That’s how my blouse got torn.”

Helen saw that only Tara’s top was ripped, the one that she thought made her look fat. The pants that fit like a dream were fine.

“Your nails are pretty long. Did you scratch his face? Sometimes we can get the suspect’s DNA from skin under the victim’s nails.”

Tara held out her hands. Her long fragile fake nails were unbroken. Tara must have realized she didn’t look like she’d put up a fight, because she said, “There wasn’t much I could do. He was bigger than me.”

“What time do you think it was when the tall man hit you?” the officer said.

“A little after six,” she said. “That’s a guess. I wasn’t keeping track of the time. He hit me, and I heard someone rattling the door handle, and then both men ran out the back, and I passed out.”

“And you’ve been unconscious for over three and a half hours?”

“Yes,” she said. “I may have awakened once or twice but I didn’t really come to until Helen found me.”

“The blood on your forehead is fresh, ma’am. You’d think after three and a half hours, it would have dried.”

Tara started crying. “You don’t believe me,” she said.

“I didn’t say that, ma’am,” MacWilliams said. “Now, you say that your store’s security system wasn’t on yet, and your security cameras were not working. But the jewelry store near you has a security camera. Maybe it caught the two men as they walked by there.”