Tote Bags and Toe Tags (27 page)

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Authors: Dorothy Howell

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No sense in getting into the whole thing too deep.
It helped that I'd called Detective Shuman last night when I'd made the discovery and he'd come to Starbucks and looked at it. He'd agreed to setting up Dempsey and Ruth today.
Madison had called in other investigators who were doing whatever it was investigators do in these situations, but they were closing up their cases, putting away equipment, and heading for the door. I guessed there was a lot more action in Arthur Dempsey's and Ruth's private offices.
Detective Shuman walked over.
“You're free to go,” he said.
“Yeah, but am I really free?” I asked.
If Madison still thought I was involved in these murders somehow, I wanted to know.
“You're cleared,” Shuman said. He gave me a totally non-cop grin. “You do good work.”
My stomach felt a little gooey.
“We make a good team,” I said.
A few seconds passed while we just stood there looking at each other, then we both seemed to come to our senses.
Shuman backed away. “See you around.”
“Whenever,” I said.
I left the conference room. The reception desk was empty. I saw only a few employees in their offices as I headed down the hallway.
When I turned the corner, I spotted Max Corwin coming out of the breakroom. He spotted me and hurried over.
“Good news for us, Haley,” he said. “With all the problems Dempsey Rowland will have now that this bribery and fraud has come to light, our background investigations will be pushed way back.”
At one point I'd thought Max might have murdered Violet. Now I knew he hadn't. But, somehow, the crimes he did commit seemed worse.
“Tampa Avenue in Northridge,” I said. “Melanie, Misty, Mace, and Miles.”
Max just stared at me.
“El Segundo,” I said. “Mandy, Maddie, Micha, and Minnie.”
He turned white. His eyes got big.
“Make it right,” I told him.
Max's face flushed bright red.
“Well, Haley ... well, now, I think you've got the wrong idea—”
I was in no mood.
“Make it right,” I told him again. “Or I will.”
I walked away. Maybe Max's personal life was none of my business. Maybe I should have left it alone. But what he was doing wasn't right, and sooner or later it would blow up in his face. If Max was the only one who would suffer, well, okay. But he wasn't. And that's what bugged me about the whole thing.
Tina and her mysterious trips to Mexico flew into my mind. I'd suspected her in Violet's death also. I now knew she wasn't guilty of murder, and maybe she was innocent of other crimes. I figured the border patrol would catch Tina if she was really doing something illegal.
As I turned the corner and headed toward my office, I saw Adela walking toward me. She looked frazzled, weary, and super stressed out.
I wished she'd retire before she died on the job.
“Haley, I'm glad I caught you,” Adela said.
She spoke in her this-will-be-bad-for-
you
voice.
Great.
“I've just come from a meeting with senior management. In view of these new developments and allegations, the future of Dempsey Rowland is in question,” Adela said. “Police officials are hauling away all sorts of documents from Mr. Dempsey's office. It's a given that a team of government auditors will be dispatched from Washington, probably by Monday. This will be a far-reaching, in-depth probe, going back decades.”
A little ray of hope fluttered in my belly. Maybe that meant I wouldn't have to work corporate events anymore. Maybe they'd want me to work with the government auditors.
Wow, that would make a great addition to my résumé.
“We can expect congressional hearings, eventually,” Adela said.
Cool. Maybe I'd get a free trip to Washington.
“At the least, there will be substantial fines and penalties,” she said.
Did that mean my pay would be cut?
“It's doubtful the company will survive this,” Adela said.
I got a weird feeling.
Adela drew herself up and straightened her shoulders. “I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Haley, but we're letting you go.”
They're letting me—what?
“We're laying off almost the entire staff,” Adela said. “Effective immediately.”
A couple of seconds passed before her words sank in.
“But—but I'm the one who solved Violet's murder,” I said. “I'm the one who exposed Mr. Dempsey's corruption.”
“Yes, and thank you so much for that,” Adela said.
I don't think she really meant it.
“Clear out your office tonight,” she said. “Any further dealings with what's left of the company will be handled by mail.”
Adela walked away.
I trudged down the hall and into my office, feeling kind of numb.
Jack flew into my mind as I glanced at the ceiling panel.
I forced my gaze onto Ty's flowers—not that I had a guilty conscience about the time I'd spent here with Jack, or how great I'd thought he looked, or that he'd tried to kiss me. Really. Well, okay, maybe a little.
But how could I help having those thoughts when he'd looked so hot in that white wifebeater? He'd said that he expected to be paid for his help. He'd said he'd tell me what he wanted, when he wanted it. He'd told me that before, lots of times. Only this time—
I decided not to think about it anymore. I had bigger things to deal with.
I took one last look out the window at the Starbucks, gathered my things, and left.
C
HAPTER
27
O
h my God, what was I going to do now?
The question had been raging in my head all the way home and still I hadn't come up with an answer. I'd lost my job—my really cool, mega-salaried, no-time-clock, corporate-credit-card job. How was I going to pay my rent, my bills, my car payment? And, more important, what the heck was I going to do with eight fully accessorized business suits?
I got out of my Honda and headed up the stairs to my apartment, desperately searching for a silver lining in this pitch-black cloud that hung over me. I still had my job at Holt's, of course, but that didn't make me feel all that much better. I had my certificate of completion from the University of Mixology. Maybe I could get a bartending job.
I pulled my keys from my purse and opened my front door. At least I was home now. I'd had a totally crappy day. Things couldn't get any worse.
I walked inside.
Things got worse.
The place was still a wreck. The half-assembled grill stood in the middle of the floor surrounded by power cords, tools, and metal parts. Packing boxes, paper, and bubble wrap from the grill and the new TV were strewn everywhere. Some of the television cables that had been affixed to my walls with duct tape had come lose and hung in long loops. My furniture was still out of place, and two beer bottles—no coasters—sat on my coffee table.
But none of that was the worst part.
Ty stood in my living room. His duffle and garment bags were packed and lying on the couch.
A few minutes passed while we just looked at each other. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. My chest felt heavy, my stomach rolled, my head ached, and my heart hurt so bad I could hardly stand upright.
Ty didn't look like he was doing so great either, but he spoke first.
“I'm sorry, Haley, but I can't be the kind of boyfriend you deserve,” he said.
I just stood there.
“I miss my work,” Ty said. “I can't spend my days shopping, or sending flowers and thinking up thoughtful things to do.”
I didn't need all the things he'd done for me, but I did need more than he'd been able to give when he worked at Holt's.
Yet I knew that wasn't everything.
I'd seen that smile he gave Dale when they were at lunch, the look on his face when he'd spoken to her, when she spoke to him, when they laughed together over something. It was the same look Shuman gave his girlfriend. The look Ty had never given me.
And all the flowers, packed lunches, frozen steaks, TVs, tuxedoed singers, and grills couldn't make our relationship something it wasn't.
“I ... I understand,” I said, because, really, I did.
“This is killing me,” Ty said. “But I think it's for the best.”
“So we're ... done?” I said.
“I'm sorry,” he said.
“Me too.”
We came together and hugged. Then Ty stepped back, picked up his duffle and garment bags, and left.
I just stood there staring at the door for a long time, then pushed aside a mound of bubble wrap and collapsed onto the couch. I knew I should call Marcie, or at least go get myself a beer, but I couldn't get up.
From the looks of my apartment and the number of floral arrangements I'd left in my office, Ty didn't really know what kind of boyfriend I wanted. But if he didn't know, it was because I never told him.
He thought I wanted one thing, when I really wanted something different. We'd come together but, somehow, we'd totally missed each other.
Maybe if I'd talked to him more—really talked to him. Maybe if he'd done the same. But we hadn't, and that meant something.
I wished I could cry. That way, at least I'd get my emotions out. But they just kept banging around inside of me, along with all kinds of thoughts.
Ty had never told me why he was headed to Palmdale the day of his car accident. I hadn't exactly been up-front with him about a lot of things in my life.
We never really talked. I doubted we were alone in that. A lot of people probably had the same problem.
I thought about Juanita. She hadn't specifically asked Mom for time off to go see her daughter, but she'd been hurt when Mom hadn't offered it.
Ruth had mistakenly thought Arthur Dempsey cared for her, to the point where now she was involved in a murder. A few well-placed words would have cleared that up a long time ago.
Maybe if Erma had told Violet about the despicable discrepancy in her salary years ago, both of them would be alive today.
I slumped down on the couch, my thoughts spinning.
I'd gotten a whole-new-me, all right. But it wasn't the
me
I'd wanted.
My apartment was a total disaster. I had a freezer I didn't want, filled with food I didn't need. I still hadn't gotten that Temptress bag. I'd lost my great job, and tomorrow when I went in for my shift at Holt's, I'd have to spend eight long, miserable hours doing make-up training because I'd forgotten to have Ty sign my waiver. I never found out for sure what happened to Juanita, or exactly what Ty had been doing in Palmdale. There wasn't an ounce of sugar in my apartment, and my cabinets and fridge were filled with totally gross healthy food.
How the heck had absolutely everything gone so wrong?
A loud knock sounded on my front door. My heart jumped and I sprang off the couch.
Ty? Was Ty coming back?
I leaped over a packing box and raced across the room.
No, wait.
I stopped. Ty wouldn't have knocked.
I approached the door and looked through the peephole.
Jack Bishop stood outside my door.
He banged his fist again, harder this time.
“I know you're in there, Haley,” he called. “You owe me. I decided what I want, and I want it
now
.”
Oh, crap.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
 
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
 
 
Copyright © 2012 by Dorothy Howell
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
 
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
 
Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2012932551
ISBN: 978-0-7582-7958-3
 

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