Evening Bags and Executions(43)

I’d forgotten that Shuman had looked into Mike’s alleged mob connection when I was in Las Vegas. Obviously, Mike hadn’t forgotten. I wish I hadn’t reminded him, but I did wonder how Mike had known that Shuman and Amanda were dating.

“Shuman is on a leave of absence from duty,” I said.

Mike didn’t say anything, but I was pretty sure he was thinking that Shuman was investigating Amanda’s murder himself against department regulations.

I’m sure that’s what Mike would have done.

I decided it was a good time to change the subject.

“So here’s what I need,” I said. “Gift bags. Two hundred of them that capture the essence of the Beatles.”

“How much are you looking to spend?” Mike asked.

“A lot,” I said. “It’s for a big party and charity event Sheridan Adams is throwing. Tribute bands, a memorabilia auction. A-list guests.”

“I’m sure I’ll receive my invitation any day now,” Mike said, and grinned. Then he was, all business again. “I’ll talk to a designer I know and see what she can come up with for the bags.”

“Great,” I said, and passed him my business card. “Do you happen to know anybody at Cirque du Soleil in Vegas?”

Mike thought for a few seconds. “I’ll get back with you.”

Wow, having a friend in the maybe-or-maybe-not Russian mob could come in handy.





“This is b.s.,” Bella grumbled.

We were in the stock room at Holt’s going through the clothing for the upcoming so-called fashion show I was supposed to coordinate. I was totally bummed because Marcie and I had planned to go on the hunt for the fantastic Enchantress bag tonight, but I’d forgotten I was scheduled to work here.

I wasn’t back in breakup fog again, I’m just really good at blocking out thoughts of Holt’s.

I’d told Jeanette I could use some help styling the looks for the show, and she’d said that Bella could assist. But I didn’t really need a helper—I needed a miracle.

I’d actually considered quitting my job here just so I wouldn’t have to go through with the fashion show, but with my position at L.A. Affairs in question, thanks to Eleanor and Rigby and their Beatles quiz questions, not to mention Vanessa backstabbing me at every opportunity, I didn’t dare resign.

“Yeah,” I said, and winced. “This stuff is pretty bad.”

“I’m going to end up vision impaired from looking at these crappy clothes,” Bella said. “Maybe I can get disability.”

We’d pulled off the tarp that covered the hanging items but left the plastic wrap on—not that it helped, really—and opened the boxes of shoes and accessories to try to assemble some looks.

Nothing went together. The buyers must have selected this stuff using a dartboard.

“There’re no two things in this whole mess that are the same color, except the shoes,” Bella said, “and they’re ugly.”

“Whoever is doing the buying for Holt’s must be a complete idiot,” I said, sorting through the dresses.

“You win this contest and maybe you can fix that,” Bella said, as she pulled a pair of pumps from one of the boxes. “Damn. My nana wouldn’t even wear these things.”

“I don’t see how we can possibly win the contest,” I said.

“Don’t ever underestimate the bad taste of a Holt’s shopper,” Bella said.

It flashed in my head that I should mention that to Ty, then I remembered we’d broken up.

Damn. Why do I keep thinking about him?

“How come Holt’s won’t give a decent prize?” Bella asked. She patted her hair. Her autumn theme continued with what appeared to be cornstalks fashioned atop her head. “Something like a year’s supply of hair care products. Now that’d be a prize worth having.”

“So what are the employees supposed to get?” I asked. “Not that we have a prayer of winning.”

“Everybody will get a Holt’s gift card,” Bella said. “I don’t think anybody will be too busted up if we don’t win.”

I figured she was right.

We spent the rest of our shift sorting through everything, matching things up, trying different accessories with dresses, pants, skirts, sweaters, and tops, and had exactly zero looks completed when it was time to go home.

“Maybe this stuff will look better tomorrow,” I said, as we left the stock room.

“It can’t look any worse,” Bella said.

I wasn’t so sure about that.

We clocked out and I headed home. When I pulled into a parking space at my apartment complex I saw Cody’s pickup truck. He must have been watching for me, because he jumped out as soon as I got out of my car.