Evening Bags and Executions(80)

I spotted Jack’s black Land Rover parked nearby, then saw him seated at an umbrella table looking more like Bruce Wayne—if Bruce Wayne had been a Navy S.E.A.L.—than Batman, in jeans and a black T-shirt.

I walked over. Just seeing Jack made my blood boil—but not for the usual reasons.

My outrage over recognizing Belinda and knowing what she’d done must have shown on my face. Jack sprang out of the chair.

“Forget it,” he told me.

His know-it-all tone irked me—even though he did, in fact, know it all when it came to security work.

But no way was I going to forget what I knew.

“I know who it was,” I told him.

“I figured you’d remember,” he said.

“I can’t stand by and do nothing.” I might have said that kind of loud.

“Yes, you can.”

“I won’t let her get away with it.” I’m pretty sure I shouted that.

“Yes, you will.”

Jack sounded way calm—which annoyed me further. “It’s not right.” I definitely yelled that.

The couple seated at a nearby table turned to look at us. Jack touched my shoulder.

“Sit down,” he said quietly.

I didn’t want to sit down. I didn’t want to hear anything Jack had to say. I wanted to call the police and rat out Belinda big-time. I wanted to see her arrested, tried, jailed, and made to pay for stealing those bobbleheads and putting Sheridan, Muriel, and me through this whole thing.

“You want justice,” Jack said. “I understand that.”

Okay, that made me feel better—but only enough that I sat down at the table. Plus, Jack had a mocha Frappuccino waiting for me.

He took the chair next to me and sipped the coffee he’d bought for himself. He didn’t say anything. I gulped down some of my Frappie; the chocolate, caffeine, and sugar calmed me, which was weird but there it was.

“It was Belinda Giles,” I said. “I met her at Lacy Cakes. She’s Lacy Hobbs’s cousin.”

“The owner who was murdered,” Jack said.

I could see that his mind was racing, trying to make a connection.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “I don’t know how Belinda could have stolen the bobbleheads from Sheridan’s estate, and I don’t see how it could have anything to do with Lacy’s murder.”

“I don’t put much stock in coincidence,” Jack said.

I didn’t either, but so far I couldn’t come up with anything that linked the two crimes—although I wished it could be Darren, somehow, since I didn’t especially like him.

Jack sipped his coffee and I worked on my Frappie for a minute or two, then he said, “You can’t go near Belinda.”

My anger spiked and I was ready to blast Jack with what I thought of his advice, but he cut me off.

“Your suspicion about her connection to the bakery owner’s murder will show. So will the fact that you recognized her at the ransom exchange,” he said.

“Good,” I said. “She should be worried that I intend to go to the cops.”

“Belinda believes you didn’t recognize her,” Jack said. “If she thought that disguise of hers had failed, she’d have never stopped for me and made the exchange.”

I just looked at him, unsure of where he was going with this.

“If Belinda knew you’d recognized her, and if she’s connected to Lacy Hobbs’s murder,” Jack said, “she might try to kill you to keep you quiet.”

Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.

I calmed down, thinking over what he’d said.

It made perfect sense—but didn’t make me feel any better about Belinda.

“I can’t stand it that she’s going to get away with this,” I said.

“I know,” Jack said. “You want justice.”

“Damn right I do,” I said.

“You’re not in law enforcement, Haley,” he said. “And neither am I.”

“But—”

“Private investigation,” Jack said. “Private. That means doing what you’re hired to do, what your client wants you to do.”

I shook my head. “No, I can’t pretend I don’t know what I know—and do nothing about it—just to make Sheridan Adams happy.”

“Sometimes there’s no justice in this kind of work. No good guys. No win,” Jack said. “You have to do what you do, know what you know, and let it go.”

I fumed for a few more minutes. My head understood what Jack was saying but the rest of me was fighting it big-time.

Maybe private investigation work wasn’t for me after all.





CHAPTER 24


It was early, but Mom would be up—something about how the sunlight produced a delicate blush to the skin as the UV rays crested the eastern horizon.