Evening Bags and Executions(91)

Something clicked into place in my head.

Belinda had just admitted she’d staged the robbery at the bakery. To do that, she needed the key to get inside. And, probably, she’d gotten that key from Lacy after she shot her.

A yucky feeling pooled in my belly. This wasn’t just a thief holding a gun on me. This was a murderer. And she’d come here tonight, using her job with the janitorial service for cover, to kill me.

Jeez, I really wish I’d called Jack.

“Darren didn’t want you to have anything of Lacy’s,” I said. “That was pretty crappy of him.”

Honestly, I didn’t care one way or the other, but I definitely wanted to keep Belinda talking.

“Everything Darren did was crappy,” Belinda said. “He could have helped me, defended me years ago, but he didn’t. He just stood by and let Lacy turn the whole family against me.”

There’s nothing like family when it came to screwing someone over.

“I heard about how you won those concert tickets,” I said.

Belinda’s face contorted with anger. “Those concert tickets—those damn concert tickets. Yeah, Lacy and I were both crazy about the Beatles. Yeah, we both wanted to go. But I had a boyfriend and I wanted to go with him, so I took him instead of Lacy.”

“She was pretty mad about it, huh?” I said.

“She turned on me like a dog,” Belinda said. “She made up stories about me. She even told people I’d gotten pregnant and had an abortion. Lies, lies, nothing but lies from her. She’d say anything to get her way, or make herself look good.”

That was really bad, all right, and from what I’d heard about Lacy she’d never changed her ways.

Still, I didn’t see how Beatles concert tickets had led to stolen bobbleheads and, of course, Lacy’s murder.

“So you were working here at Sheridan’s estate, cleaning,” I said, “and you spotted the bobbleheads—”

“They are my bobbleheads,” Belinda said, her anger spinning up again. “I bought them years ago—along with every other Beatles item I could find. I recognized them the minute I laid eyes on them from the dent in the box lid.”

Okay, now I was confused.

“Hang on a second,” I said. “The bobbleheads that were donated to Sheridan’s charity auction had a connection to British royalty. How could—”

“Royalty? They’ve got nothing to do with royalty.” Belinda’s face flushed bright red. “Lacy stole those bobbleheads from me years ago because I didn’t take her to the Beatles concert with me. Then she donated them—my bobbleheads—to the auction so she’d look like a big shot in front of Sheridan Adams.”

I threw a quick look at the ceiling of the parking garage and spotted a security camera. I couldn’t tell whether Belinda and I were in its line of sight.

“Those bobbleheads are mine. I bought and paid for them with babysitting money I’d earned.” Belinda’s anger rose. “Lacy lied about taking them, she lied about me, she lied about everything.”

It was all starting to fall into place now.

“So when you saw the bobbleheads,” I said, “you—”

“My bobbleheads,” Belinda said.

“Okay, your bobbleheads,” I said.

Jeez, now I see why it was called Beatlemania back in the day. These Beatles fans were maniacs, all right.

“I was here inside this big, fancy house—doing that back-breaking job I’ve been doing for years—and I saw my bobbleheads with the other auction collectibles. I couldn’t believe it,” Belinda said. “There they were just sitting on the shelf—my bobbleheads.”

“And you realized they were the set you’d bought, the set that disappeared,” I said.

“The set that Lacy stole,” Belinda said. “I knew she took them—I always knew she was the one who took them.”

“How did you find out it was Lacy who’d donated them to Sheridan’s charity auction?” I asked.

“You’d be surprised how much the servants know about what goes on. I found out Lacy had donated the bobbleheads,” Belinda said. “But I hadn’t heard that ridiculous story about British royalty. I should have known, with Lacy involved.”

“You must have been furious once you knew for certain that Lacy had stolen them, that she’d kept them all these years,” I said. “So you, what, confronted her at the bakery?”

“I told her I wanted them back,” Belinda said. “I have health problems. I didn’t have a smooth, easy life like she had baking cakes for thousands of dollars. I had to work—work hard—for nearly nothing.”