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Evening Bags and Executions(90)

By:Dorothy Howell


“Her name is Belinda Giles,” I said.

“Hold on,” he said. A few seconds later he came back on the line. “Belinda Giles is an employee with the Ever Clean Janitorial Service.”

“What?”

“She was cleared through the security checkpoint this morning with the rest of the cleaning crew,” he said.

Okay, now I was really confused. What the heck was going on?

“Do you have reason to believe she’s planning a theft of the memorabilia?” he asked.

Yeah, okay, my head was buzzing with all sorts of questions about Belinda, but I managed to tell this guy the most important thing.

“Yes, I do. You have to stop her. She’s old, sixty maybe, kind of thin. Dirty blond hair.” I hesitated a couple of seconds, then said, “And I think she might be involved in the murder of Lacy Hobbs. Stop her, if you can find her.”

I needed to locate her myself, though I didn’t have a clue how that would be possible in this crowd.

I closed my cell phone and spun around—and there she stood.

She had on a pale green smock that matched the color of the janitorial service van I’d seen parked outside Lacy Cakes, here at Sheridan’s estate during a previous visit, and on the freeway coming back from the ransom money delivery.

The real outstanding feature about Belinda at the moment was the pistol she was pointing at me.

“I guess you figured it all out,” she said, giving me a tired smile.

Actually, I hadn’t—but this didn’t seem like a good time to say so. Things were falling into place, though.

“Let’s get some air,” Belinda said.

I hesitated. I figured I could take her easily. I was younger, stronger, and faster—plus I was jacked up on two slices of Black Forest cake—but no way did I want to try anything while she held the gun on me.

She backed out of the door, checked the hallway, and motioned for me to walk ahead of her.

At the end of the corridor was a set of double doors. I opened one of them and found myself outside on a covered porch; a single light gave off a feeble glow.

I realized this was the rear of the estate. A thick row of trees and shrubs separated it from the neighboring lot.

To my right only a few yards away was the first floor of the parking garage. On my left was a row of Dumpsters. I figured this must be another entrance to the service wing.

Belinda walked out behind me. The door slammed shut.

“I guess you know this place pretty well,” I said.

“Every inch of it,” she told me. “I’ve been cleaning it for years.”

I glanced at the garage. The place was packed with vehicles. Not one person was in sight.

“You must have been surprised to see me here tonight,” I said.

“I knew you’d be here. You’d have to be, working for that party planning company. I’ve been looking for you.” Belinda shook her head in dismay. “Why on earth did you pick that costume?”

Okay, this whole Yoko Ono thing was getting on my nerves big-time. I was going to let Vanessa have it when I saw her—provided I got to see her again, of course.

“I recognized you at the ransom drop,” I said.

“I thought you’d figure it out sooner or later, which is why I’m here.” She glanced around. “I don’t see Batman lurking in the shadows to help you this time.”

I sure as heck could use a partner right now.

Why hadn’t I called Jack?

That made me think of something else.

“What about you?” I asked. “Where’s your partner?”

“Partner?” Belinda uttered an ugly little laugh. “What partner?”

“Your cousin Darren,” I said.

Her ugly little laugh morphed into an ugly growl.

“Darren? My partner?” she demanded. “I’ve got nothing to do with that self-righteous, tightfisted miser.”

I glanced at the nearest car parked in the garage, then at the Dumpsters, and calculated how quickly I could get to them. I was pretty fast—especially with this combo of adrenaline and Black Forest cake pumping through me—but I’d never get to them quicker than a bullet fired from Belinda’s gun.

“So it’s just Paige you’re partnered with?” I asked.

Paige had told me Belinda worked as a housekeeper. I didn’t know if she was just shining me on or if she really didn’t know the truth about where Belinda worked and what she’d done.

“She’s desperate to buy the bakery and so am I,” Belinda said, and shook her head. “Paige knows nothing else.”

“Not even about how you broke into the bakery and stole Lacy’s things?” I asked.

“Those things were due me,” Belinda said, her anger rising. “I deserved something after everything Lacy put me through.”