Evening Bags and Executions(76)

“Is he okay?” I asked.

“I haven’t heard from him,” Madison said. “He’s missing.”

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that Madison had kept in contact with Shuman. They were, after all, partners.

So now it looked as if he were the person I’d suspected was feeding Shuman info on the investigation into Amanda’s murder. By the worried look on Madison’s face I could see that he wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing.

I knew how he felt.

When Mike Ivan had given me the location of Amanda’s murderer I’d mentally wrestled with what to do with the info. Give it to Shuman? Or not?

Now, knowing that he’d gone missing, which meant there was a possibility that he could be injured somewhere—or worse—I could be asking myself the same question.

But I wasn’t.

I’d made my decision and I would to stick by it. I couldn’t second-guess myself. I had to believe that what I’d done was the right thing. I couldn’t back out now. I was confident it was what Shuman wanted. It was his call. I would have to trust in him to handle things.

That’s what friends did.

“I saw him a few days ago,” I told Madison.

“Did he tell you . . . anything?” he asked.

Madison knew Shuman and I were friends. That’s why he’d come here. I figured he must be pretty desperate—or worried—to ask me for help.

“We talked about Amanda, mostly,” I said, which wasn’t a total lie.

“How did he seem?” Detective Madison asked.

I mentally debated for a moment, then decided it was time for a total lie.

“Better,” I said. “He seemed like he was coming to terms with everything.”

Madison nodded thoughtfully, then said, “If you hear from him, let me know.”

I nodded, and Madison left. I lingered in Jeanette’s office for a couple of minutes, then went back to the stock room. Out of habit, I pulled my cell phone from my pants pocket.

Yikes! I’d missed a call—from Muriel!

I must have been so caught up in thinking about Shuman and talking to Madison, I hadn’t felt it vibrate.

I called Muriel, and immediately she picked up.

“We got the call.” She sounded breathless and majorly stressed. “It was one of those computer voices. Creepy.”

“What’s the deal?” I asked.

“You have to meet the kidnapper at nine tonight,” she said.

I glanced at my watch. That was only a little over an hour from now. Not much time.

“Where?” I asked.

“At Hollywood and Highland,” Muriel said. “Wear red, lots of red, so you can be spotted.”

“What am I supposed to do with the money?” I asked.

“Give it to Janice,” she said.

“Janice? Who’s Janice?” I asked.

“I have no idea.”

Oh, crap.





CHAPTER 23


I swung into the parking structure at the Hollywood & Highland Center, circled down the ramp, and found an empty space near the escalators. I’d made it down here from Holt’s in record time—with some help.

After I’d hung up with Muriel, I told Bella I had to leave immediately. She was good with it. Since I’d been told to wear red and I didn’t have time to go home, I’d grabbed a red hoodie, scarf, and knit hat from the juniors section of the stock room—it wasn’t stealing, technically, because I’d bring them back tomorrow. Besides, what else could I do? Bella said she’d clock out for me—she rolls with anything—and I left the store by the rear door.

I’d told Muriel to meet me at a convenience store near the Lankershim Avenue exit off the 101. She’d been waiting locked inside her car, cradling the duffel bag of cash in her arms, when I pulled up. She tossed me the bag through our open windows, and I took off again.

Now that I’d arrived, I stayed seated in my Honda and glanced around—although I’m not sure what I expected to see. The parking garage was nearly filled with vehicles, but few people were there. With all the shops, stores, and restaurants still open, everyone was enjoying the nightlife.

I got out of my car, zipped into my hoodie, wrapped the scarf around my neck, and pulled on the knit hat.

Jeez, I really hope nothing goes bad tonight. No way did I want to have my mug shot taken in this getup.

I took another look around the parking garage, thinking I might spot Jack. I’d called him with the ransom info when I left Holt’s, as he’d asked me to do, but he hadn’t answered. I hoped he’d listened to the voicemail I’d left. He hadn’t said he’d come help and I hadn’t asked him to. Still, I wished he’d show up or at least call. Maybe he could help me figure out who Janice was and just how the heck I was supposed to find her.