Diane Vallere - Style & Error 02 - Buyer, Beware Page 5

  “In that case, I’ll give you the short version.” I launched into the highlights of my background.

  She cut me off from the work stuff and interrogated me on the life stuff and dangled an awfully big carrot on trash-talking Tradava, but unlike Bugs Bunny, I didn’t bite. It still felt too soon to burn that bridge, even if they didn’t want me on the other side.

  We talked for the better part of an hour, until she smacked her hands palm down on her desk.

  “Jesus! Look at the time. You came here to shop, and I’m holding you hostage in this stuffy office. I didn’t leave you much time before they kick us out for the night. You’ll be here all day tomorrow so you’ll have plenty of time. Go home, get a good night’s sleep.”

  She stood from her desk and walked me back out to the security office. “We’ll have coffee in the morning. Meet me here at quarter to nine.”

  She pumped my hand twice like business women in movies from the eighties did, and headed back into the store.

  I retraced my path to the security department. Gabe pushed a clipboard my direction.

  “Sign out before you leave.”

  I jotted my name on the first available line and pushed the clipboard back. “Do you lock up the store this time every night?”

  He looked at me oddly. “What makes you think we’re locking up the store?”

  “That’s what Ms. DuChamp–Belle–just said.”

  “You must have misunderstood her. We won’t lock up for another three hours.”

  I glanced at the now-vacant hallway. If there was something in the store that I wasn’t supposed to see, I’d just been railroaded away from finding it.

  6

  Instead of braving the grocery store, I joined Eddie and Cat for dinner at Briquette Burger. We sat around a large booth, waiting for our entrees. Cat dredged a piece of bread through the cruet of truffle butter that rested on the center of the table and took a healthy bite. After swallowing, she tore off another piece of bread and wiped the cruet clean. Must be good, I thought; it was the first time I’d ever seen her openly gorge on carbs.

  When three glasses of wine arrived at the table, Eddie raised his to me in a toast. “To Sam. For landing on her feet.”

  “To Sam,” Cat echoed.

  I smiled a nervous smile, knowing what was in store for me, and raised my glass to clink theirs. We each took a sip.

  Cat excused herself to the ladies room, and I bit into the last piece of bread. I didn’t need the excuse of fancy butter to accessorize a perfectly good hunk of dough.

  “So you start tomorrow, right?” Eddie asked.

  “Mmmhmm,” I answered, chewing my way through a sourdough roll. “Handbag buyer.”

  “You took the dead woman’s job?”

  A young couple two tables over stared in our direction.

  “Keep your voice down. People are looking at us.” I bit into the roll again and used both hands to tear it from my teeth. I swallowed a mouthful and washed it down with water. “I met Belle DuChamp today. Do you know her?”

  Eddie choked on his wine.

  “Thin, perky boobs, chic clothes, blonde hair?” I added.

  “People at Tradava call her Belle of the Balls. Because when her husband was around, she was known for squeezing them.” Eddie lowered his voice. “She was the general manager of Tradava for the last eleven years. Always seemed like a pretty amazing woman, but not the most politically correct if you know what I mean.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” I said. If Eddie had dirt on someone I’d be working with, I wanted to hear it.

  “I heard she had a couple of affairs during that time, with a couple members of the board.”

  “That’s probably just the rumor mill. She was the only woman in a sea of men. Everybody says that kind of stuff.”

  “Well, maybe, but here’s what I heard about why she got fired.” He leaned in closer, dangling juicy gossip like the steak that was heading our direction. “She was caught canoodling. In the boardroom.”

  “Who uses words like ‘canoodling’?”

  “She was on the fast track, too. Doesn’t make sense, really because she’s a smart cookie. Why would you throw away your entire future, job security, all that, for a quick romp on a wooden table?”

  “Maybe she was too dominant at home and her husband couldn’t, uh, perform. Some men don’t like their women to be that strong and independent.”

  “Speaking of which, what does Nick say about your new job?”

  “Nick and I are not even at the relationship stage. We aren’t even in the same city.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem.”

  “Who says there’s a problem?”

  “What does he have to say about all of this?”

  “All of what?”

  “The statue. The murder. The job. All of this.”

  “He didn’t really have anything to say about it. What’s taking Cat so long?” I looked behind me at the restroom doors.

  “That’s not like Nick. Why do you think he hasn’t said anything?”

  “Seriously, she’s been gone a long time.” I half-stood from the table. Eddie reached across the table and grabbed my wrist.

  “Answer my question.”

  I shook him off. “Nick hasn’t said anything because I haven’t told him. Are you satisfied?

  Eddie stared at me. His blond hair had been buzzed on the sides in a makeshift Mohawk, and the longer top flopped onto his forehead. “Why haven’t you told Nick what you’re up to?”

  “I don’t want him to worry.”

  “Why would he worry about you landing a new job?” he asked. Suspicion was written all over his face. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “I have to check on Cat.” I stepped away from the table and went to the bathroom. When I got there, I found her passed out on the ceramic tiled floor.

  “Cat? Cat?” I untied my scarf and flapped it over her face, and then ran tap water onto a wad of tri-folded paper towels and held the stack against her forehead. “Cat?” Her eyes fluttered open and closed again. When they reopened a third time, they narrowed and looked side to side. I sat next to her on the cold tile and held her hand.

  “Why are we on the floor?”

  “I don’t know. This is where I found you.”

  Her narrowed eyes widened. “I don’t feel so good.”

  She didn’t look so good, either. Green generally looks good on a redhead, but the shade Cat had gone under her normally porcelain skin wasn’t her best. I helped her up and stood by her side while she propped herself on the sink. She ran her wrists under cold water and dabbed her fingertips against her hairline.

  “Will you mind terribly if I don’t stay for dinner? I want to go home.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. Do you want me to drive you?”

  “No, I’ll take a cab.”

  “What about your car?”

  “Eddie and I came together.”

  We walked back out to our table, where Eddie sat surrounded by three steak and potato dinners. Cat stopped a few steps short when the smell of food hit her. “I need fresh air,” she said, and put her hand over her mouth and ran for the front door.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Eddie asked.

  “She’s sick.” I leaned on the booth and watched Cat leave the restaurant.

  He slid out of the booth. “Take the food to go. I’m going to give her a ride. We’ll celebrate another time, Okay?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Call me when she’s safe at home.”

  He nodded and left. The waiter came to the table and asked if something was wrong. “Change of plans,” I answered, and asked for a couple of to-go boxes. Logan was going to eat well tonight. And I had a second opportunity to use my new expense card, too.

  It was after nine when I unlocked the front door. The house was dark and silent. Logan was asleep on the sofa. Sweet cat. I was going to miss him tomorrow when I headed off to work.

  I showered and changed into a sil
k nightgown, and then laid out my first day’s outfit: a pink trench coat over a pearl gray sheath dress, and gray flannel mary-janes with a black patent toe and heel. I transferred my handbag essentials into a vintage black patent clutch I’d scored at a sale in New York. After I finished, I sank down on the bed and started thinking about what I was about to get myself into.

  Emily Hart, handbag buyer for Heist, had been found dead. I’d been tasked to find something out about the murder by acting undercover as her replacement. It seemed that the actual store manager didn’t know my true reasons for being there. Did that mean she was under suspicion?

  Come to think of it, after what Eddie had said, I wondered about Belle DuChamp. She’d been on the fast track at Tradava, worked there for eleven years. At her level, that surely put her into pension category, and she probably felt she had some job security. Had she really been found canoodling in the boardroom? Seemed a stretch. But if Tony Simms didn’t tell her about me, then she might be one of the people to keep my eyes on. She had ushered me out of the store awfully quickly that very afternoon.

  The comforter on the bed started ringing. I padded my hand around until I found the cordless phone twisted up in the sheets. It was early for Nick to call, but maybe he was making up for lost time.

  “Hey, Tiger,” I said in my best sex-kitten voice.

  “Samantha Kidd? This is Detective Loncar.”

  Dammit.

  7

  “Here’s the plan,” Detective Loncar said, ignoring the way I’d answered the phone. “You go into work tomorrow like you’re expected to. We’re not yet sure what we want you to look for, so take note of anything you think is suspicious. I’ll call you tomorrow night to touch base.”

  “No disrespect intended, but that’s a pretty vague plan. Don’t you want to tell me who the suspects are so I know who to watch?”

  “Ms. Kidd, may I remind you that you have volunteered to cooperate with us, but you are not a member of the police force.”

  “Okay, tell me this. Am I in danger, going to work at Heist? What if something happens to me?”

  “Ms. Kidd, you were offered employment by one of Philadelphia’s most influential businessmen. You legitimately have a job there.”

  I was starting to have second thoughts about the whole thing, and not just a little because of the homicide. The cops might think that Tony Simms was on the up and up, but something about him spooked me. That he’d shown up on my doorstep with identification in my name before formerly offering me a job was only a part of it.

  My cell phone started buzzing around on the table, and I didn’t even have to look to know it was Nick.

  “Detective, can you hold on a second? I have another call that I have to take.” I couldn’t remember which button on the cordless was mute so I pushed it under the covers and answered my cell phone. Probably not the smartest move, but I’d worry about that later.

  “Hello?” I said, using my sultry voice for the second time that night.

  “Hey, Kiddo,” said Nick. His voice was low, gravelly. Sexy. I leaned back onto the pillows and hugged my knees. “What’s going on in chez Kidd?”

  “Not much, just getting ready for tomorrow.”

  “What’s tomorrow?”

  A muffled sound came from under the covers. I felt around with my left hand until I connected with the cordless.

  “Hold that thought,” I said to Nick. I set my cell on the nightstand and pulled the cordless out from under the covers. “Detective? Are you there?”

  “Don’t do that again, Ms. Kidd. Now, about tomorrow, just do what I said. Don’t bring up the homicide, don’t ask questions. Just go to work, keep your eyes open, and we’ll talk at the end of the day. Same time as tonight.” He disconnected before I had a chance to consent, though I guess I’d done that when I showed up at headquarters.

  I picked up my cell. “Nick? Are you still there?”

  “I’m here.”

  I pictured him in his bed, shirtless, half-covered with blankets, propped up against the pillow. Then I got a little turned on and thought it was better not to picture that. Not now, not when I had some very dreaded information to share with him. There was a very good chance that once I told him what I was up to, we were not going to be talking like one of those 976 numbers.

  “You know, when you set the phone down, I thought I heard you say ‘detective.’ ”

  “I did,” I said, trying to come up with a cover story. “Eddie’s here. We’re playing Clue.”

  “What’s going on, Kidd?”

  “Nothing! We, uh, made up new rules. Whenever someone lands in the library we have to say ‘detective.’ ”

  “You can’t play Clue with two people.”

  I pushed my feet far under the sheet. Figures he’d know that. If I’d have known it when I was ten, my sister Sasha wouldn’t have been able to cheat so often.

  “Nick, I got a job with the new retailer moving into the area. You probably heard about it before you left for Italy. Heist?”

  “I read something about them expanding into Tradava’s markets. From what I’ve heard, they’re pretty high concept, right?”

  “Yes. Do they carry your shoe collection?”

  “No, I never got into business with them. Now that I took back distribution of my label, I have to be careful about expanding too quickly. Besides, their discount agreement is a little too deep for me. What are you going to do for them?”

  “I’m going to be the handbag buyer.” I climbed out of the bed and went downstairs to the kitchen. I was going to need a side of ice cream to go with all this honesty.

  “Did I know about this? That you applied there?”

  I chose my words carefully. “No, I didn’t say anything about it because I didn’t expect anything like this to happen. Turns out they were very impressed with my credentials.” I opened one of the takeout containers and cut off a small piece of hamburger for Logan. I tore a corner off of the bread and tossed it in his bowl, too. It was free bread that came with the meal, and I was totally within my rights as a consumer to empty the basket into my carryout container.

  “Why shouldn’t they be?” Nick asked. “You’re smart and talented. Just because things never worked out like you wanted at Tradava doesn’t mean things aren’t going to work out for you in Ribbon. Just think, if you’d never moved to your old hometown for a job at Tradava, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You never know what’s right around the corner.”

  Nick was right. I didn’t know what was right around the corner. But something about this particular opportunity that I was embarking on was unsettling. Maybe it was the fact that, aside from Detective Loncar, nobody knew what I was getting myself into.

  I’d had more than my share of excitement since I’d moved back to Ribbon, and Nick had seen me through a lot of it. I knew he worried about me. But the two thousand miles between us created a bridge too big for him to cross if I needed help again. Maybe that’s why I’d partnered with the cops. I was learning. I was growing. And maybe that’s why I found myself wanting to tell Nick everything.

  “I have to tell you something. Something big.”

  Silence met me on the other end of the phone.

  “Are you still there?”

  “I’m here,” he said, but something in his voice had changed.

  I stood with the phone pressed to my ear, watching Logan. I toyed with the best way to bring up Emily Hart’s murder and how it had led to my employment at Heist. Logan swatted at the piece of meat in his bowl then licked it a couple of times. He pulled away and shook his head side to side.

  “When I said Heist was impressed with my credentials, I wasn’t only talking about my work credentials.”

  Logan slinked into the living room. A couple of seconds later he made a choking sound. I ran to the front room, where he hacked a few more times and then threw up. He took a few steps away from the nasty little pile on the carpet and lay down on his side. His eyes went glassy and unfocused.

&n
bsp; And I remembered Cat, passed out on the floor of the restaurant bathroom.

  And the food that I’d just put in Logan’s bowl.

  “Nick, I’ll call you back. Something’s wrong with Logan.”

  I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to my cat. He was my little soldier, waiting for me every night when I got home. I wasn’t ready for him to leave me. I’d never be ready for that, but at the hand of a piece of tainted meat from dinner? That wasn’t playing fair. I didn’t know how that factored into his nine lives.

  The vet had agreed to see him after I called in panic mode. I trundled him up in a light blue pashmina and held him on my lap while I drove. Being captive in a car is not Logan’s favorite thing, but tonight, he was quiet. That freaked me out more than anything.

  The vet’s assistant took him from my arms. She instructed me to fill out paperwork while she took blood and other pertinent samples that would tell if I had an overactive imagination or if my cat had been poisoned. And to kill time, since I was alone in the waiting room, I knew there was only one person to call.

  “Detective Loncar, someone poisoned my friend and my cat. This is serious.”

  “Slow down Ms. Kidd. Where are you?”

  “I’m at the vet’s office. My cat is sick. And my friend was sick earlier, and they ate the same food, but not at the same time. I mean, the food was for me, and I got it to go after Cat had to leave, but then I gave a piece of it to Logan, he’s a cat, too, only not like my friend Cat, and now he’s sick and I think maybe someone poisoned my dinner and I didn’t know who else to call.” I knew I sounded frantic, but frantic was about ten steps calmer than how I actually felt.

  “Tell me again what you think happened.”

  I recounted finding Cat passed out on the restaurant bathroom floor, and Logan’s strange behavior when batting around the meat. But the question that hung in the air that Detective Loncar was nice enough not to ask was why would someone have poisoned me at the Briquette Burger?

  “You said you found your friend on the bathroom floor. Did she eat the steak?”