Evening Bags and Executions(78)

She looked totally retro except for the Coach bag I recognized from three years ago, a yikes-what’s-this-thing tote covered in fuchsia flower blossoms, and a black duffel bag, which I hoped held Sheridan Adams’s Beatles bobbleheads.

Thoughts pinged around in my head, things Jack had told me—kidnappers were unstable, make sure to see the bobbleheads before handing over the money, and . . . something else. He’d told me something else that had seemed important at the time. What was it?

I stepped away from the building and faced Janis Joplin so she’d be sure to see me. Even though I couldn’t make out her features clearly, I sensed that she’d spotted me. She shifted direction slightly and walked straight toward me.

Jeez, I wish I could remember that last thing Jack told me to watch out for.

Janis walked closer. My heart pounded.

She drew nearer. My gaze moved to her duffel bag. Inside was my job, the future of L.A. Affairs, Sheridan Adams’s Beatles charity auction.

My palms started to sweat. I drew a breath, forcing myself to calm down.

Janis stopped. Our gazes held for about two seconds, then she whipped around and headed back toward Highland Avenue.

Oh, no! What happened? She wasn’t supposed to leave. We were supposed to—

My duffel ripped off of my arm. I held on to the strap, whirled around, and came face-to-face with Batman.

A partner. That’s what Jack said I should watch out for. No way was I letting Janis Joplin’s partner take the money while she got away with the bobbleheads.

I held on for all I was worth and dug in my heels, locked in a tug of war with Batman.

“Let go, Haley,” he said.

That voice. I knew that voice.

Oh my God, it was Jack—in the Batman costume.

“Stay here,” he told me.

The duffel slipped through my fingers. Jack took off down the street after Janis, his cape flying behind him.

I just stood there, too stunned to move.

What the heck had happened? Why had Janis Joplin left? What was Jack doing here? And was that bulge in his tights a gun?

I dodged through the crowd, stopped at Highland Avenue, and peeked around the corner. A block away near the entrance to the parking garage, Batman and Janis Joplin faced each other and were peering into the open duffel bags held between them.

Batman reached inside Janis’s bag and pulled out the cardboard display box containing the Beatles bobbleheads. He checked it over, then put it back inside. He handed his duffel to Janis and took hers. She locked her arms around it and disappeared into the parking garage.

Rage burst inside me. Janis Joplin was getting away. She’d taken what didn’t belong to her, ransomed it, created havoc in my life, Muriel’s life, Sheridan’s life, all of which nearly resulted in me losing my job and L.A. Affairs going out of business. No way was I going to just stand there and let her get away.

Jack headed in my direction, the duffel tucked under his arm. I took off down the sidewalk and cut around him, headed for the parking garage. He caught my arm and pulled me up short.

“Let go,” I said, yanking away from him.

Jack held on. “We have to get out of here.”

“No!”

He headed for the corner, pulling me along with him, and leaned down.

“She knew you, Haley. That’s why she took off,” he told me. “Who was she?”

“What?” I asked, stumbling along beside him.

“She recognized you. She must have. There was no other reason for her to bolt,” he said.

My head spun. I thought back, trying to remember what little I’d seen of her face.

“I—I have no idea who she was,” I said.

Jack kept his hand locked around my arm as we turned the corner onto Hollywood Boulevard. A few people on the sidewalk glanced our way. If any of them had noticed the struggle we’d had over the duffel a few minutes ago, they didn’t say anything.

“You need to get out of here,” Jack said. “Where are you parked?”

He was looking around, taking in the crowd, watching for trouble—which I hadn’t even thought about.

Jeez, my private detective skills need a lot of work.

Worried now that Janis Joplin might still have a partner nearby who would try to take the bobbleheads back, I hurried alongside Jack up the stairs to the central courtyard, then down the escalators to the parking garage.

“Do you think she has an accomplice here somewhere?” I asked.

The Caped Crusader and I were getting a lot of looks now.

“Doubtful,” Jack said.

Wish I could have worn a Catwoman costume.

“This wasn’t a professional operation,” he said.

At my car, I popped the trunk and Jack put the duffel inside, then opened my door and hustled me in behind the wheel. I started the engine and buzzed the window down.