The Penny Pinchers Club (24 page)

I nodded. The headache was getting so bad I wondered if concus sions could be contagious.

“For
free
?”

“Of course not. He pays me and he pays me pretty well.” Already a thousand for consultation.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since February. Don’t tell Chloe, either. She wanted the job and I got it. I had to, for Laura’s sake.”

“Oh, Kat.” Viv adopted her disappointed older-sister voice. “It all comes back to money. If you and Griff weren’t so strapped, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself in a situation where you were being paid by your ex.”

Sometimes Viv had a particular way of phrasing things that was nothing short of jarring, I thought, as she excused herself to make a phone call.

The door to the conference room opened and Steve emerged, somberly followed by Officer Ramone. “Mr. Rothschild?”

Wade carefully unhooked Libby’s arms from where they’d been around his neck as, shuffling in his shackles, he passed Steve without saying a word, like icebergs drifting in the frigid Northern Atlantic.

“I’ll wait for you,” Libby wailed as the door behind him slammed. Her eyes watered and she blew her nose loudly on a damp ball of tissue. “It’s so unfair. Just when we were inches away from getting married.”

“It’ll be fine, Libby,” I said, though I had absolutely no way of being able to promise such a thing. “Wasko and Ramone are actually really nice.”

“Maybe to you. But you’re not Wade. He’s on a different . . . level.” She caught sight of Steve, who was off to the side, hovering, and said coolly, “Some help you were.”

“Hi, Libby, Kat.” He did a slight bow and took off his hat. “I’d like you both to know that I went in there and explained about the Penny Pinchers and how Wade was an odd fish, but he wasn’t a criminal, even if he did overreact now and then and dive in Dumpsters for food.”

“He is so not an odd fish,” Libby said, forgetting to thank Steve for putting his reputation on the line by defending Wade. “He’s wonderful.”

“Thank you, Steve,” I said. “It really helps.” This reconfirmed my belief that most people want to do the right thing; sometimes it just takes them a while to come around.

“It won’t help. Nothing can be done.” Libby began to cry again. “Not with his background.”

What
was
his background, anyway?

Viv returned from her phone call, hands in her pockets, and gazed at Steve. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

My word. My sister’s blue eyes were actually sparkling and she had that glow she gets whenever she meets a new man of interest. Ah, yes, the uniform. Sailors, cops, and any man in the military made her weak in the knees.

“This is Steve Adams, who used to be in my Penny Pinchers group. Steve, this is my”—I passed on the “older” part—“sister, Viv. Viv Popalaski.”

He shook her hand and murmured “Popalaski” like it was exotic.

“Adams! Wait! I know you.” Viv wagged her finger. “I bet you’re Kyle and Jason’s dad.”

Steve’s face fell. “Uh-oh. What did they do now?”

Viv threw her head back and laughed, revealing a long length of relatively wrinkle-free throat. “They didn’t do anything. Oh, maybe they forgot to turn in a couple of papers, but ...”

Steve kept staring, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“My sister’s an English teacher at Rocky River High,” I explained.

“Whew.” He drew a hand across his forehead in exaggerated relief. “With those two kids of mine, you never know.”

“No, they’re good boys.” Viv examined her nails, which meant she was lying through her teeth. “I had Kyle last year, and now I have Jason for American Writers. You know, his paper on
The Grapes of Wrath
was not bad. In fact, as I recall, he wrote an excellent analysis of the selfishness motif.”

Steve helped himself to the chair between us, pulling it out between his legs. “
The Grapes of Wrath
. That’s Steinway, right?”

“Stein
beck
.” Viv, who loved nothing more than to show off her knowledge of high school English, added, “You know,
Of Mice and Men
.
East of Eden
.”

“I saw that movie. James Dean. I love James Dean.”

Viv twirled a strand of hair, entranced. “Me too.
Rebel Without a Cause
. . . I must have seen that ten times.”

“Fifteen.” Steve crossed himself. “No kidding. Swear to God. You know, there’s a James Dean film festival every spring in Princeton.”

“Is there?”

“We should go.”

“We
should
.”

I got arrested, and my sister got a man. How did that work?

For the first time since I’d fired her, Libby playfully rolled her eyes like she used to whenViv did or said something outrageous. It was her moment of forgiveness, and I could have kissed her for it.

“Mrs. Griffiths?” Wasko appeared at the door. “Mind stepping in for a minute? We have a couple more questions.”

It was the office furniture fib, I just knew it, I thought, rubbing my sweaty palms up and down my thighs.

Steve said to me, “You don’t have to say boo, you know. By law, you can ask for a lawyer anytime.”

Viv squeezed his arm and said, “Thank you for saying that. That was
so
sweet.”

“It’s part of my job as an enforcer of the law.” He grinned in a way that would have made his beloved James Dean proud.

Oh, brother. Get a room already
, I thought, glad to give them their space. As I passed by her, Libby flashed me a thumbs-up and whispered, “Tell Wade I love him.”

It was quite a different scene from what I’d expected to find in the questioning room. Wade’s hands and feet were unbound and up on the table, and he was laughing with Wasko like they were old friends. I took a seat and tried to appear upstanding.

“All right. Listen up, folks, here’s the deal.” Ramone hitched up his belt. “The good news is, I’m not charging Mrs. Griffiths with attempted theft, and Agent Wasko’s not going to pursue the federal counts.”

It was as if a hundred pounds had been lifted off my chest.
Thank you
, I mouthed to Wasko, who wrinkled his nose, like it was nothing.

“Mr. Rothschild makes a convincing case that Mrs. Griffiths was only in the E. W. Drummond Dumpster because she’d heard him cry for help, and after her own extremely lengthy description of the events leading up to this incident, we believe her.”

It was weird the way they referred to me in the third person.

“However”—Ramone pulled out his ticket book—“the bad news is that I
am
charging her and you, Mr. Rothschild, with defiant trespassing, New Jersey statute 2C: 18-3b, since her car was on private property after hours despite numerous ‘no trespassing signs’ and since you were in the Dumpster.”

“Come on, Ramone.” Wade swung his feet off the table. “Defiant trespassing’s a bullshit law and you know it.”

Wasko fixed him with a glare. “Now, listen,Wade. . . .”

The door opened and a plump woman with frizzy strawberry-blond hair poked her head around the dispatcher. “Sorry to bother you, but there’s a Liam Novak here. He claims he’s got urgent information about a Mrs. Griffiths. You want me to tell him to wait?”

Liam? What was he doing here?

Ramone jutted his chin at me. “Who’s this Novak?”

“My client.” My heart was thumping in my chest. My mouth was dry. I couldn’t tell if I was excited that he’d come to my rescue or mortified that he’d find me under arrest. “That’s why I was searching for antiques—because he’s redoing his house. It’s a mid-Georgian.”

“Whatever mid-Georgian means.” Ramone scratched his head and said, “I’ll talk to him,” and walked out, leaving Wasko, Wade, and me in awkward silence.

“Defiant trespassing,” Wade snorted. “That’s a joke.”

“That’s thirty days in jail and not more than a $500 fine,” Wasko said. “Doesn’t seem so funny to me.”

Two minutes later Ramone returned, motioned for Wasko to join him, and they both left. As soon as they were gone,Wade covered his mouth—I supposed so no one on the other side of the two-way mirror could read his lips. “Who’s Novak?”

“A friend . . .”

He placed my hand over my mouth and motioned for me to continue.

“A friend and client of my design business. He’s the one on the hunt for antiques.”

Wade said, “Is that it? What’s he do for a living?”

“He’s the CEO of PharMax.”

Wade scrunched up his face, trying to connect the dots. “That’s bizarre.”

It
was
bizarre. In fact, the whole morning had been bizarre, starting with raiding grocery store refuse in the fog, to being questioned for hours by the feds, to Liam advocating for my release. For one, I was glad Griff was out of town, even if he was with Bree. He’d never have understood why my ex had come to my rescue.

After what seemed like hours, though it was in all likelihood only minutes, the door opened and Ramone said casually, “Yeah, you two can go.”

Wade hopped up, no questions asked, and split. I, on the other hand, was frozen to the table in shock. “What happened?”

“Your charges were reduced to simple trespassing and they’ll probably be dropped after the prosecutor gets hold of the case.” Ramone waved me out like a traffic cop. “Come on. Don’t you want to go home?”

No, actually, I didn’t because I knew as soon as I walked out that door Liam would be waiting for me and I was a mess. “How do I look?” I asked, smoothing a strand of hair behind my ear.

Ramone was put off by the question.“I don’t know....You look like you got caught raiding trash. That’s how you look.”

Bravely, I pasted on a confident smile and exited. Yup. There wereViv and Steve, standing impatiently as if itching to be somewhere else, and there was Liam in his Barbour, a white scarf casually and way too debonairly thrown around his neck.

“Thank you for whatever you did,” I said. “But how did you know to come?”

Liam cocked his chin to Viv. “Viv called me. Something about you getting in trouble with the police because you were on the hunt for antiques and a group called the Penny Pinchers. I came as fast as I could.” His gaze dropped from my greasy hair to my bloodstained shirt and jeans and returned to meet my eyes with a look of pity. “Poor kid.”

Poor kid. A favorite phrase of Liam’s I hadn’t heard in years.

“Excuse me.” Viv gave Liam a look of gratitude before turning to me. “I just want to know if you’re free to go. Because, if you don’t mind, Steve and I want to step out for a cup of coffee. His break ends in ten minutes.”

“I’m going to show your sister this new coffee shop,” he added, as if he needed to justify their impromptu date.

“Go ahead, go ahead. I just want to go home and take a bath, anyway.”

Viv sighed and came over to give me a kiss on a cheek, a not-so-subtle attempt to hide her whispered words of advice. “Be careful, Kat. You’re kind of vulnerable these days.”

Spinning around, she hooked her arm in Steve’s, an inch or so shorter than he. At five foot nine inches, Viv’s greatest obstacle to finding love had been finding a man who didn’t need to wear elevator shoes. Steve had passed the first test.

When they were out the door, Liam said, “You’re not going home.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t have a car, for one thing.”

“Yes, I do.” I gestured out the window to my trusty Corolla.

Liam, an inveterate snob when it came to such things, turned a pale shade of green. “
That’s
your car? That does not seem Kat Popalaski’s style at all.”

He used my maiden name!
“I used to drive a Lexus, but then I traded it in for this right before Christmas.”

“Because ...”

“Because,” I began, remembering the Penny Pinchers mantra that there was no shame in being frugal, “because I didn’t want to spend $250 in monthly car payments.”

Liam remained stock-still. “No husband, no quality wheels,” he said. “We need to talk. Alone.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Liam boldly took my hand and led me out the police department double-glass doors into the misting rain. That was just like him to step in and take control. Next, he’d be ordering my entrees and making my dental appointments like he used to.

“Here.” His BMW was parked illegally in a space reserved for cop cars. In a million years, Griff never would have done such a thing.

I got in and slammed the door with the impressive thud of German engineering.
Ah, luxury
, I thought, running my hand over the buttery seats, drinking in the smell of fine leather.
Oh, how I’ve missed you.

Liam started up the car, reversing and stepping on the gas like we were hightailing it out of Dodge. “Unbelievable.” He brushed his bangs to one side and checked the rearview. “For them to interrogate you like that for two hours for trespassing. It’s harassment.”

“Well, it was a Dumpster for a high-security firm.”

“That’s no excuse. They only treated you that way because you didn’t have a lawyer.” He hooked a right with one finger on the wheel. “Though, I gotta say, Kat, what the hell were you doing in some company’s trash to begin with? Yeah, yeah. I know about the search for antiques. Viv said you did it for me, which was why I rushed down here with enough cash to bail you out for murder. But I don’t want someone else’s trash. It’s not like I’m lacking in resources to buy what I want.”

He wasn’t getting it. Dumpster diving was a chase, a pursuit. The brief thrill I’d had from trespassing and lusting after Wade’s booty from the Shop-N-Buy must be, on a larger and cruel scale, what big-game hunters experienced on a safari. Anyone can
buy
something—meat, antiques—but finding it in the wild? Ahh, that was the ticket.

“It’s hard to explain,” I said, looking out the window at my town as Liam whizzed past the turnoff to our development. “Where are we going?”