“Got it,” I said.
Jack finally took a sip of the coffee I’d bought for him.
“Who do you suspect took the bobbleheads?” he asked.
I’d been so consumed with getting them back I hadn’t put any more thought into who had taken them.
“They were stolen from the room in Sheridan’s house where all the collectibles for the charity auction were stored. The room isn’t easily accessible,” I said. “Probably an inside job.”
Jack nodded. “Who would benefit from the theft? From the ransom money?”
“Everybody who works in Sheridan’s home,” I said. “There are lots of workers in the house and on the grounds who could use the money.”
Muriel flashed in my mind. I could easily see where she might have her fill of dealing with Sheridan Adams and use the ransom money to escape and start over somewhere else, but I couldn’t imagine Muriel actually pulling it off.
“Who knew the memorabilia would be auctioned off?” Jack asked.
“Most everyone on Sheridan’s staff, and anyone at L.A. Affairs who’d seen the file on the event,” I said.
Vanessa flashed in my head. What if she’d gone to Sheridan’s house and somehow stolen the bobbleheads? Just to make me look bad and get me fired?
It would be so cool if I could blame everything on her.
“Who else knew?” Jack asked.
I thought for a minute or two and realized—oh my God—I’d actually told a number of people about the memorabilia and the auction.
“I might have mentioned it to a couple of people,” I said.
I’d told Mike Ivan about the auction because we’d been discussing the gift bags Sheridan wanted.
I saw no reason to mention a maybe-connected-to-the-Russian-mob guy to Jack.
“I remember talking about the party with Paige at Lacy Cakes,” I said. “She’s making the Yellow Submarine cake for the event.”
“Who else?” Jack asked.
“Belinda Giles,” I said. “She’s trying to buy the bakery with Paige.”
“Who else knew?” he asked.
“There’s the guy at the bakery who bakes the cakes. He might have overheard our conversation,” I said. “And maybe the guy who runs a rival bakery. I can’t remember if I mentioned it to him.”
Jack just looked at me.
“And Darren, Belinda’s cousin,” I said. “That’s all I can think of.”
Jack nodded. “And you?”
Yeah, I knew about them too—which was another great reason for the police not to get involved with the theft and ransom demand.
“And you’re sure this is the real deal?” Jack asked. “Not a hoax?”
I sat there stunned. It had never occurred to me that it wasn’t the real thing.
“These Hollywood people—the ultra-wealthy, celebrities—will do anything for publicity,” Jack said. “Get involved with them and you might find yourself the target of unwanted attention.”
Yikes! I hadn’t thought of that.
I considered the whole thing for a minute or two, then shook my head.
“This is real,” I said.
Jack rose from his chair. “Call me when you hear from the kidnapper with the time and location,” he said.
I hoped that meant he’d come with me, but he didn’t say so.
Jack left. I sat there thinking, sipping on my mocha Frappuccino.
I’d gotten enough info to handle the ransom money delivery, and Jack had made me think a little harder about the theft itself. But that wasn’t what was on my mind.
He’d been completely outraged when I’d mentioned Cody kissing me in the parking lot. Obviously, he hadn’t witnessed it, hadn’t warned Cody off.
So if Jack hadn’t done it, who had?
CHAPTER 22
“What was the first Beatles album that was issued as a two-record set?” Rigby asked.
I knew this one, sort of.
I sat down at my desk in my office, grabbed the Beatles book I’d bought, and frantically flipped through the pages. I knew I’d read about that album somewhere in this book.
“That was a great album, wasn’t it?” I asked, stalling.
I couldn’t be sure, but I think she was humming the theme music played during the Jeopardy! final round.
I didn’t need this stress. Not today.
“One of my favorite albums,” Rigby said. “Do you know the answer?”
“Of course. Everyone knows this one,” I said and—thank God—found the page I was looking for. “It was titled The Beatles, but everyone called it The White Album.”
“Very good, Haley,” Rigby said.
I collapsed onto my desk.
“I’ll talk with you again soon,” she said, and hung up.