Pearls Gone Wild Page 2

  I pushed thoughts of Nick and Amanda in Italy (with or without food) from my mind and drove Cat to the designer outlets. “Tell me about this party.”

  “Tom Kenner and Don Winn are the partners who own Kenner & Winn. They’re jewelry wholesalers. They’re co-sponsoring a shopping night at the mall to promote their jewelry line. George joined their company a couple of months ago and took over their biggest territory.”

  “Kenner & Winn. How come I never heard of them? I was a buyer for nine years before I moved here.”

  “Their specialty is licensee deals. Designers sign on with them to source products, but most designers don’t want you to know where they get their products from because you could just cut out the middle man and get the merchandise without the name attached.”

  The nine years that I’d spent as a buyer had been in ladies designer shoes. Cat was right. I didn’t buy directly from the factories, I bought from the designers. I could tell you a lot about how the shoe business worked, but the technical side was still something of a mystery to me.

  “I never thought about it before but jewelry must be a high margin business.”

  “It is. There’s no way to put a designer name on an item except on the packaging. You’re getting double the mark-up for a designer name and only the people who follow high fashion know whether your jewelry is Chanel or Saint Laurent or Oscar.”

  “So this party is being sponsored by the men who import the product, right?”

  “Yes, but don’t worry, they’re not fashion people. These guys are the ones with the money. They don’t care about taste, they care about the bottom line. If I told them I wanted to start selling rhinestone-encrusted bras they’d find a way to supply them.”

  “So you’ve bought from them? For Catnip?”

  She shook her head. “Only recently. I don’t carry precious jewelry, and even if I had, I always thought it was a bad idea for George and me to mix our work life with our home life. Shows what I know. If I’d been one of his clients, I might have known he was on the verge of a mid-life crisis.”

  “But recently, you placed orders from Kenner & Winn?”

  “Yes. One of his accounts canceled an order of pearls because Kenner & Winn missed the delivery window. I’ve been working on a luxury strategy for Catnip and George talked me into buying the canceled order.”

  “How’s it selling?”

  “It never had a chance to sell. It was stolen in a smash and grab. Merry Christmas to me,” she said in a flat voice.

  For those not in the know, a smash and grab is an in-and-out retail theft. The idea is that, if you’re quick, you can break into a store, smash a glass case full of merchandise, grab as much as you can carry, and get out in less than a minute. Judging from where the security officers might be, even if they know a theft is taking place, you can be gone before they can catch up with you.

  It’s a bold way to steal. Most people get caught because they’re either not fast enough or they get greedy and stay in the store too long. Sometimes thieves smash the first case they find and take armloads of items that have low resell value. That’s one of the ways you can tell if thieves know what they were doing.

  “Was anything caught on camera?”

  “The camera is mounted to the opposite side of the mall by the main entrance. The alarm went off, but by the time the police showed up, the merchandise was long gone.”

  “They got everything?”

  She nodded. “Black Tahitian pearl necklaces. You remember them, right? The only one they didn’t steal was the one you asked me to put on hold.”

  I’d seen the necklace in question last week during a quick shopping trip. As much as I’d wanted to splurge on it, the comma in the price had been a good deterrent from adding it to my list of must-haves. It sounded to me that the thieves knew what they were doing.

  We arrived at the Ribbon Designer Outlets and I pulled up next to a twenty-something in a red jacket and black pants, exited the car, and headed toward a giant green tree. It was decorated in lustrous round ornaments that looked like oversized pearls and sparkling plastic gemstones. Thick ribbon printed with the Kenner & Winn logo had been loosely draped around the tree. Subtlety apparently wasn’t high on the duo’s agenda. White twinkle lights wound through the branches, and two spotlights on the ground were aimed at the top just in case you somehow missed the monstrosity.

  I followed Cat to the entrance. A woman in a soft, chiffon duster, coordinating satin tank top, and palazzo pants stood next to a man in a tuxedo. Her lashes were so long I felt a breeze when she blinked. The man held out a hand to Cat. She shook it aggressively, though I didn’t think she had much of a choice.

  “Welcome to the Kenner & Winn holiday party. I’m Tom Kenner. This is my wife, Joyce.”

  “Cat Lestes,” Cat said.

  Tom turned toward the woman next to him. She looked at her husband first, and then at Cat. Her smile seemed disingenuous, although whether it was Cat and my presence or the fact that she was bored by the event that caused the reaction, I didn’t know.

  “Cat. Is that short for Catherine?” Joyce asked.

  “Yes,” Cat said.

  “And you are?” Joyce said to me.

  Before I could answer, Cat spoke up again. “This is Samantha. She’s my partner.”

  “She means—” I started, but Cat put her hand on my arm. Tom and Joyce looked Cat’s pregnant belly.

  “Nice to see your kind taking such good care of each other,” Tom said. He put his hand on Cat’s belly and I felt her tense next to me. “Little one is going to be lucky, having two moms.”

  “Is Mr. Winn here?” Cat asked.

  “Nope. We heard about some trouble with the exporter and he lost the coin toss. He’ll be spending his holiday in India.” He chuckled.

  Joyce looked past me and gestured toward a cluster of people more appropriately dressed than I was. She extended a braceleted arm with long, well-manicured nails and directed us toward a waiter handing out pre-poured flutes of pink champagne just inside the store entrance. Behind them, a woman in an ivory pantsuit worked a coat check booth. It wasn’t until after we were inside the store that I pinched Cat’s arm.

  “Ow! What was that for?”

  “Partner?”

  “Business partner. Why else would I bring you here tonight?”

  “Friend, associate, customer…” I ticked off possible answers. “How come he doesn’t know you’re George’s wife?” I asked. “Shouldn’t he recognize you?”

  “I’ve never met Tom or Joyce before. We haven’t been to any company events for Kenner & Winn yet.”

  “Look on the bright side. He’ll probably give you a set of hers and hers matching towels when you have the baby.”

  “They don’t know I’m married to the rat.” She looked over my shoulder and then scanned the rest of the room. “You don’t see him, do you?”

  “He’s going to be here?” I asked. I dropped my voice to a whisper. “You’re not going to cause a scene, are you?”

  “Of course not. I’m a lady.” She smoothed out her hair. “Go to the bar. You’ll fit in more if you’re holding a glass of champagne.”

  “I’d fit in more if you would have given me five minutes to change.”

  “I’m going to see what kind of non-alcoholic beverages they have.” She pulled her long silk scarf from around her shoulders. “You’re creative. Do something with this.”

  I weaved through the crowd in search of a private spot where I could work a makeover miracle on my G.I. Jane outfit. Pearlescent balloons had been blown up and scattered around the floor and hung from the ceiling. The coat check woman pointed to a public restroom and I went inside to change.

  I pulled my sweater over my head, and then tied two ends of Cat’s scarf around my neck. I tied the other two ends behind my back, creating a drape-front, open back top. My bra was an eyesore, so I took it off, which created a whole other set of problems. I found a roll of fabric tape in the bottom of my handbag an
d used it to, shall we say, secure my assets with a trick I’d learned from a stylist. I re-knotted the scarf and jumped up and down a few times to make sure everything was going to stay in place. The door to the bathroom opened. I flushed the toilet (cover story) and waited until feet appeared in the stall next to me before I left mine.

  My sweater and bra were too cumbersome to fit in my handbag. I looked around for a place to stash them for later retrieval, but frankly, there was something a little skeevy about stashing clothes in a public restroom. I slid the window open and pushed the two items outside. They landed on a patch of brown grass behind a bare bush.

  I washed my hands and ran my fingers through my hair. The other stall opened and a ghostly pale woman with full red lips and heavily arched eyebrows came out. Her jet black hair was slicked away from her face and a hibiscus was tucked behind one ear. She wore a skin tight yellow strapless dress that was cinched with a red patent leather belt. After washing and drying her hands, she pulled a tube of lipstick out of her handbag and touched up her pout.

  A small bundle wrapped in tissue paper fell out of her bag and landed on the floor by her red patent leather peep toe pumps. I bent down and picked it up. “You dropped this,” I said.

  Her eyes went wide. She grabbed the bundle and held it for a moment. “Trash,” she said, and then shoved it into the trash bin in the corner. She left and I followed her back to the party.

  A few people swatted pearl-colored balloons back and forth with one hand while sipping champagne with the other. Aside from the brief introductions I’d had upon arrival, Cat was the only person at the party I knew. Cat didn’t care that I wasn’t an industry insider. What she did care about was whether or not I had steady employment, because a fair portion of my disposable income now went back to her store’s bottom line. I helped myself to a flute of champagne and weaved through the partygoers looking for her.

  I shouldn’t have left her alone. In the center of the party by the UP Escalator, Cat stood face to face with her husband, George. A display of gloves, hats, and scarves in bright candy shades provided a nice backdrop. George’s lips moved but I was too far away to hear what he said. He looked distraught, earnest. A shock of brown hair had fallen forward on his forehead, making him appear boyish.

  In my head, I scripted imaginary dialogue for them. Him apologizing. Her accepting. Him promising to do whatever it would take to get them back on track, her laughing off his fears.

  He put his hands on her arms and leaned down and said something to her, and then he stood back up.

  And then she grabbed a drink from a passing server and tossed the contents in his face.

  3

  FRIDAY NIGHT

  I held my champagne flute above my head and squeezed through the crowd. By the time I reached Cat, her husband was gone. Party goers had backed up and left a circle of space around her. “Did you see that?” one woman asked. “Hormones,” said another, casting a judgmental look at Cat’s belly. “I heard she left him for another woman,” said a third.

  Cat looked stunned. I put my arm around her and led her toward a quiet corner.

  “I’m not ready to be a mom. I just threw a drink at the father of my baby! Why did I think I could do this?” Cat said.

  “You are going to be a better mom than ninety percent of women who get pregnant. Yes, your life is going to change, but for amazing reasons. You’re going to have a baby.” I smiled. “That won’t change who you are. It’s going to magnify who you are.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  Her eyes dropped to my makeshift top and her forehead wrinkled with a frown. “What about you? It would be easier if we did this together. Do you think you’ll ever have a baby?”

  My nervous system woke up like it had been plugged into an outlet and a cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck. Cat having a baby was one thing. I was pretty sure I knew where I stood on the subject, but the lack of serious relationships had lulled me into a false sense of never having to examine my thoughts too closely.

  “Let’s get you through your pregnancy before we tackle that issue,” I said.

  “You’re right. You’re not even married. Not that you’d have to be…” She looked at me again.

  “Let me take care of you while you take care of little Andy or Jenny.”

  She pulled away. “Isn’t that line from Rosemary’s Baby?”

  “We should leave,” I said. “Walk with me to the coat check.”

  Cat turned around and looked at the multitude of faces staring at her. Only a few had the decency to look away. She turned back to me. “I’d rather not. Meet me by the exit?”

  “Fine.” I went back into the mall and collected our jackets. When I returned, Cat was seated on a low bench with an older man in a tweed suit and a full head of white hair. They appeared to be comfortable with one another. She held a champagne flute, but the beverage was clear. A wedge of lime had settled in the bottom.

  “I have the coats,” I said, holding them up. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Sam, there you are. I want you to meet someone. Jim, this is Samantha Kidd. Sam, this is Jim Insendo. Jim used to own my store,” she said.

  I shook Jim’s hand. “So you’re our town sleuth,” he said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Are you hot on somebody’s trail tonight?”

  I smiled. “Nope, tonight I’m just a party girl.” I looked around the party and spotted the woman from the bathroom standing with George. Maybe there was another woman. Things were adding up, but Cat didn’t need to know the score. “Come on, we should get you home.”

  “So soon?”

  “I think you should get some rest. It’s been a big day.”

  “Fine,” she said. She turned to Jim. “It was nice catching up with you. Call me if you want to get together for coffee. You know the number.” She stood up and set her glass on a display of perfumes. Jim smiled, and then stood up and walked to the bar.

  “Do you mind if we go to Catnip first? I want to check on the store.”

  “Fine. I’ll meet you there. I need to get something from the bushes outside of the mall.”

  We both bundled up and left the party. Cat went toward the car and I split off to the right and around the side of the mall in search of my sweater and bra. She passed me as I was pulling dead blades of grass from the knit.

  When I reached Catnip, the exterior door was propped open with a rock. I went inside and found Cat straightening a display of colorful cashmere scarves and gloves. “I’m going to get something from my office. I’ll only be a minute.” She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear.

  “Go do what you have to do. I’m going to the fitting room.”

  “Don’t get distracted. We’re only going to be here as long as it takes me to check the safe.”

  “How long is that?”

  “Two minutes.”

  I could try on at least three outfits in two minutes. I entered the fitting room and stripped down to my fabric tape and panties. Before I had a chance to pull a fringed ivory dress over my head, I heard a crash in the store out front.

  4

  LATE FRIDAY NIGHT

  I peeked out of the dressing room. A figure in baggy black clothes, gloves, and a knit ski mask stood in front of the jewelry case. He held a tire iron in one hand and a handful of thick pearl necklaces in the other. Broken glass was scattered on the floor all around him.

  “Hey!” I yelled. I ran out of the fitting room holding the dress in front of me. He took off for the front of the store. Until that moment, I hadn’t noticed that the gate wasn’t closed.

  I ran after him but the lack of support in the ta-ta region slowed me down. Cat stepped out of the shadows and the figure pushed her back. She lost her balance. I changed course and ran to her.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. I yanked a blue puffer jacket from a nearby hanger and wadded it up under her back. She put one hand on her tummy. The color had drained from her skin, leaving it a ghostly sha
de. Her labored breathing came out in bursts like I imagined she’d learned in Lamaze class.

  “Did you see what happened?” she asked.

  “It was a smash and grab.”

  “You scared him away. Who knows what he would have done if he didn’t see you.”

  I considered the style in which I’d chased after him: cotton panties and fabric tape. “I don’t think he saw me as much of a threat.”

  A young man in a black uniform ambled up to us. He looked like this job was just his warm up for a night gig as bouncer for the local cover band circuit. His head was clean shaven and shiny—which indicated shaving probably didn’t have a lot to do with his choice of hair style. I grabbed another puffer jacket from the fixture and pulled it on over my naked torso.

  “Mall’s closed, ladies. You need to leave.” he said. From our position on the floor, I couldn’t tell how tall he was, though his rotund physique made him appear on the short side.

  Cat sat up. “This is my store. I’m the owner.”

  He looked annoyed. “Officer Aguilar. Mall security.” He shook Cat’s hand and then mine. “I heard a crash. Is everything okay?”

  “There was somebody inside her store,” I said. “He smashed one of her cases and grabbed her merchandise. He pushed her out of the way when he ran out of the store. That’s assault. She’s eight months pregnant and could have been hurt. So no, I don’t think everything is okay.”

  That got his attention. He looked back and forth between our faces. “Do you need medical assistance?”

  “I’m fine,” Cat said. “We were at the party and came here to make sure the store was locked up properly.”

  “It’s after hours. Everybody has to be out by eleven.” He looked at Cat. “You know the rules.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “The thief was probably already here when we arrived and we just didn’t see him,” I said. “How would someone get in without you noticing?”