A Grand Plan Page 12

  Molly leaned forward, her excitement growing. “Did you see the notebook?”

  “Only for a few seconds. I was trying to drive the bus, you know. There were drawings, mainly circles with pieces, like a pie. And she’d made these columns and written down a bunch of dates and times. She pointed at the page and said, ‘I have to be at the tree house by three thirty.’”

  Molly looked at Ari. “Does that make any sense to you?”

  “It does.” She turned to Arnie and smiled. “Did she ever say what happened when she went to the tree house?”

  He pursed his lips in thought while they listened to the nearby traffic. “She talked about how Lindsey and Stevie were a duo and not a trio. You know, Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks?”

  He packed up his lunch and checked his watch. “I’ve got to get back on the road. I’m sorry. That’s all I remember.”

  They got off the bus and ducked into a nearby Starbucks. Ari called Lorraine to come and return them to Molly’s truck while Molly ordered two black iced teas. Once they were at a table and enjoying the wonderful air-conditioning, Ari explained the tree house reference.

  “I’m thinking Ms. Wonders was going to the Treehouse Bakery.”

  She shook her head. “Where’s that?”

  “It’s on LGA across from the Bali Hi. It’s around the corner from the Bikini Lounge, the place where the smoke bomb went off. I’m guessing Ms. Wonders was following whoever set off that smoke bomb.”

  “And we know the killer has the Swiss army knife too,” Ari added.

  Twenty minutes later, after they’d climbed into Lorraine’s Lexus, they asked her about the Treehouse Bakery.

  “Oh, yum,” she cooed. “I love Kacie’s cupcakes. She’s the owner and she makes everything.” Her eyes grew wide and she asked, “Are we stopping there?”

  “We could,” Ari said, looking at Molly.

  “Sure,” she said with a shrug. “We just didn’t want to hold you up.”

  “I always have time for a trip to the Treehouse. Is the bakery somehow involved in what’s going on?”

  “We’ve heard Ms. Wonders visited, so we’re checking it out,” Molly said casually.

  Ari could tell Molly didn’t want to say much about the investigation so she changed the subject. “When can we go back to the Stapley building? Is it still a crime scene?”

  “I’m glad you mentioned that, chica. I almost forgot to tell you the tape is down and we can go see it. Just let me know when you have a couple free hours, but I want to do it soon. Lev has someone else who might be interested. He’s holding off telling the client about it because he wants us to have first dibs.”

  Ari looked at her curiously. “I didn’t realize he was involved in real estate. I thought he just merged companies.”

  “That’s his primary client base but he’s also helped customers find the right location. There’s a local PR firm who’s looking at Stapley.”

  “Let me check my schedule. I’m sure I can find some time later this week.”

  She looked out the car window and watched the freeway shrubbery zoom past her. She needed to explain her mixed feelings about Grand Avenue to Lorraine.

  They got off the freeway and wound their way through the side streets. When they reached the Treehouse Bakery they were disappointed to find a sign on the door: Gone to cousin’s wedding. Back next week.

  “Kacie just closes her shop?” Molly asked incredulously.

  “Yeah. It’s her way,” Lorraine explained. “Her family is everything to her, and if something happens on the reservation, she closes and leaves.”

  Molly peered through the front window and asked, “Does she make pies by any chance?”

  “She makes the best pies, but don’t tell Brooke Brown I said that.”

  Molly looked at Ari. “Maybe that’s what she meant by pie day.”

  “Could be.” Ari stared down Roosevelt Avenue. “How about a walk down the Row?”

  * * *

  After Lorraine dropped them off at Molly’s truck, they headed back to RoRo and parked in front of the Eye Lounge. The gallery was closed but they wandered to the back door and heard music. Molly pounded twice on the door and Crosby Brunell finally cracked it just wide enough to see who was there. He wore a smock over his T-shirt and his long, blond hair hung freely past his shoulders.

  “Do you have a minute to speak with us?” she asked.

  He glanced behind the door and said something to whoever was inside before stepping into the alley and shutting the door behind him. He crossed his arms and offered a blank stare. If she wanted any information, she’d have to earn it. She introduced Ari and he offered a slight nod.

  She got to the point, recognizing he would go back inside whenever the questions bored him. “What can you tell me about Ms. Wonders or anyone on the Row who might want to hurt her?”

  “Nothing. Hardly knew her.”

  She shifted her weight and matched his stance. “Seriously? That’s all you’ve got? I heard she bought a lot of art before she lost her partner. Did she buy anything from you?”

  He took a long breath and his expression softened. “A few pieces. Expensive pieces,” he acknowledged. “Look, none of this makes any sense. I’ll admit I kinda chuckled when Brooke’s windows got smashed and that smoke bomb at the Bikini Lounge was classic, but slashed artwork and sending texts so Third Friday gets canceled, that’s just wrong.”

  “So you’re okay with some of the stuff that’s happened,” she concluded.

  “I think some people aren’t picking their pranks very well.”

  Ari couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You think smashing the windows of a historic building is a prank?”

  “It’s glass. It’ll be replaced. Look, there’s been bad blood between RoRo and LGA for almost two years. That’s why we initially liked the idea of Lev Rosenthal becoming the president. He said he could end the feud and he wasn’t in favor of merging the communities. Then Lorraine joins the council and suddenly his mind changes. He says LGA needs to be included on the council. The two of them manage to convince Reverend Glass, so it’s three to two.” Crosby leaned against the door. “Boy, he’s sorry he ever cast that vote. Still talks about what a mistake it was.”

  “You never answered my question,” Molly said. “Who had a problem with Ms. Wonders?”

  He chuckled and said, “Well, Brooke for one. Ms. Wonders learned she was having an affair with Sebastian. If her husband found out, he’d divorce her and she’d lose half the diner and the secret recipe for that flaky pie crust.”

  “What other things happened?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Stuff like blocking a zoning permit or fights over corporate sponsorships. We’d do stuff to them and they’d do stuff to us. Most of it was childish competition. We’d write for the same grants. Sometimes they’d get it and sometimes we would.”

  Ari’s attention was drawn to the closed blinds over the side window. Two of the slats parted for an instant, revealing a patch of shocking blue bangs and one brown eye. They snapped back into place. She watched to see if whoever was inside would make herself known again.

  “If you spent as much time working together as you did trying to undermine each other, I bet you’d get a lot accomplished,” Molly said. He replied with a snort, and she asked, “So do you have an alibi for when Ms. Wonders was killed?”

  “I was in Prescott for the day. Didn’t get back until nearly sunset.”

  “Anyone go with you?” Ari asked.

  “No, just me.” When the music suddenly stopped, he glanced at the door. “I’m done answering your questions.” He leaned toward Molly and said, “I didn’t kill her.” He went back inside. The music resumed, the volume much louder than it had been previously.

  “What a jackass,” she mumbled as they headed back to the truck. “He says he got back around sunset, and that’s the time she was killed.”

  “And we did learn something useful,” Ari said cheerfully, thinking of the b
lue bangs and hoping to counter Molly’s sour expression.

  “What’s that?”

  “Crosby Brunell is seeing Chynna Grove.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Molly pulled into the empty driveway at Southwest Realty, grateful that Lorraine’s handful of employees had left for the day. Taking over their conference room was enough inconvenience without Nelson Security overrunning their workspace during the day. Luckily most of her team had day jobs and were moonlighting for her. She rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. She’d arrived a little early, hoping she’d catch Yoli so she could apologize.

  A text popped up from Andre. “Finally,” she muttered to her former police partner. Let’s do lunch tomorrow. Got some stuff to share with you and Ari.

  She smiled. He assumed she’d bring Ari. Even before she and Ari lived together there had been many nights when she and Andre would show up at Ari’s condo with a pizza and they’d review facts from whatever cases Andre and Molly had been assigned. Ari had a unique eye, especially when it came to physical evidence like documents. She’d worked behind the scenes on a number of cases, and much to Molly’s chagrin she’d been in on the action several times, seriously so, which was why they both sported gunshot scars.

  “You’re smoking too much.”

  She jumped and dropped her cigarette in her lap. While she attempted to retrieve it, Yoli laughed heartily.

  “Shit, you scared me,” she said, plucking the butt from the floor and stubbing it out in her overflowing ashtray.

  “Yeah, well, you’re too zoned out and not paying attention to your surroundings. Anyone could’ve wandered up and jacked you good.”

  “I doubt it,” she said, climbing out of the truck with her briefcase. “And if I’m smoking too much, it’s your fault. You’re the one who got me hooked again.”

  “Hey, I only smoke after a good fuck. If you’re suckin’ on the cancer stick all day, that’s your problem.”

  “Yeah, it’s called addiction.” She said the word slowly. “I have an addictive personality.” Yoli rolled her eyes. “What the hell? I expected you of all people to understand.”

  Her expression yielded no compassion. “I don’t buy that bullshit. I get that it’s hard to give something up, but this idea that everything is tempting—that’s just an excuse. Use some self-control.”

  She stepped closer so they were almost touching noses, invading her personal space. “Resist temptations,” she hissed.

  Molly felt her strength. They both knew what she meant. This is my fault. “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have stayed out so late.”

  “Damn straight,” she said.

  She was about to tell Yoli they needed to talk after the meeting when a motorcycle roared around the corner and pulled up behind her truck. The bike was a vintage 1949 Harley-Davidson, its silver paint and chrome shining as if it were brand new. The rider dismounted and pulled off a full-face helmet, releasing her long gray hair. She shook it out and studied the Southwest Realty bungalow.

  “So are these the new digs?”

  “Yo, Denny,” Yoli called. “Yeah, it’s home.”

  She left Yoli outside with Denny Schultz, a retired army sergeant who’d been one of Yoli’s commanding officers. She looked like a little old lady, but anyone who said as much would probably get a solid punch in the stomach. She was perfect for security work because no one looked twice at her.

  Molly headed to the conference room but took a quick detour to Ari’s office to make sure she wasn’t there. Of course she’s not in. You just want to see her office. She poked her head through the partially opened door, inhaling traces of the jasmine perfume she’d smelled last night when her face was buried against Ari’s neck.

  Ari regularly experimented with various scents, and throughout their relationship Molly had refined her sense of smell. Ari didn’t like cheap perfume, and because of her exquisite choices, Molly’s olfactory sense eventually became a point of arousal, which was why she shut the office door quickly, took a deep breath of the pine cleaner the janitorial staff had been using in the kitchen, and veered into the conference room.

  She glanced at the information Ari had added to the whiteboard since their visit with Arnulfo the bus driver. Several questions were posted, holes they hoped Andre could fill.

  Who is Ms. Wonders’s beneficiary?

  Murder weapon?

  What is on the phone the police confiscated, the one being paid for by Tony Sanchez?

  What’s pie day?

  What do we know about the shoe?

  “Is it fun being a private dick?”

  She whirled around to see Drew Sachs standing in the doorway, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, wearing the stupid grin of a teenager. His buzz cut and baby face confirmed his youth. He’d been the last hired because Yoli’s original choice had dropped out. He was willing to do anything for her since she’d saved his life during a combat mission.

  Molly’s expression must have conveyed her displeasure at his question because his face fell. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Is this where we’re meeting?”

  “Yeah, come on in and take a seat.”

  She quickly scooped up several pictures from the table and placed them on a credenza. She decided not to share anything about the crimes with her team. They needed to stay focused on prevention and on their assignments for Third Friday. She pulled out six folders and handed him one.

  “Start studying.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He dropped into a chair and immediately scanned the information she’d prepared.

  She stared at him for another beat. Lorraine had helped him get a job at the Rosenthal Group where he’d worked in the mailroom for a while before moving to a computer technician job in Tempe. Yoli swore he’d conquered his anger issues, and she told stories of his bravery when he was a member of her platoon. Still, Molly was wary of him. He was immature and said the first thing that came to his mind. She worried he’d be rash in the field.

  The rest of the team assembled and she and Yoli tag-teamed the presentation, explaining the assignments for Third Friday and briefly acknowledging the death of Ms. Wonders and Molly’s current status as private investigator. At one point during the meeting Yoli argued with her about the assignments. From the skeptical looks Molly received, she realized these were Yoli’s people. If she were ever going to be perceived as the leader, she needed Yoli’s support. An hour later the team left with homework: reach out to the merchants in their assigned zone.

  As Yoli packed up her computer, she glanced at Molly. “You got something you want to say to me?”

  She remembered a comment Dr. Yee had made to her about expending energy in unnecessary places. “Why would you question a person about his or her opinion if you completely understand the stated position, even if you don’t agree with it? That’s a waste of time and only outputs negative energy.”

  It was now clear to her that Yoli didn’t believe there was such a thing as an addictive personality, which made her wonder if Yoli was ever truly addicted to alcohol or understood what it meant to have debilitating cravings. Does it matter? So what if she doesn’t? Everyone’s definition of addiction is different. She’d learned that in rehab.

  “Let’s drop it,” she concluded.

  “Fine by me.” She picked up the computer case and her backpack and prepared to leave. Molly knew if she didn’t say anything else, she would simply walk out the door. Closure was not her strength.

  “This isn’t going to work if you don’t back me up, even when you don’t agree with my decision.”

  She slowly turned so Molly could see her profile. “Understood.”

  It was as close to an apology as she’d get from her. “Are we good?” she asked, hearing the hope and exhaustion in her own voice.

  Yoli retraced the steps she’d taken and dropped her load to the floor. She hovered over Molly sitting in one of the conference chairs like a child waiting to be dismissed. Even though she was seated, her six-foot fr
ame next to Yoli’s petite build meant she was staring straight into her cleavage, made more appetizing by the simple white tank top she wore.

  She placed her hands on Molly’s head, smoothing her hair back and massaging her temples with strong thumbs. Molly closed her eyes and enjoyed the touch. She wrapped her arms around Yoli’s waist and steadied herself as Yoli increased the pressure of the massage.

  “You have amazing hands,” she murmured.

  “That’s not all that’s amazing, baby, and you know it.” Suddenly her face was in a vise-like grip and Yoli’s green eyes blazed into hers. “I know you’re messing around with Ari. Her perfume was all over you last night. You want me to walk out right now? Are you done with me?”

  Fear gripped her heart in the same way Yoli held her face. What am I afraid of? It wasn’t fear of Yoli or what she’d do. I’m afraid of losing her strength. Strength that had propelled her forward to start her security business. Strength to stay sober. How much was hers and how much derived from Yoli? She didn’t know yet and until she figured it out, she couldn’t stand on her own.

  “I need you,” she cried. “Don’t leave me.”

  Her green eyes seemed to turn black. “Then you dump her. You. Dump. Your. Ex.”

  “Yes, okay,” she whimpered.

  Yoli guided Molly’s face into her cleavage. “We can’t do this here,” Molly hesitated. “Not in the conference room.”

  “We can and we will,” Yoli replied.

  She stepped away from Molly and peeled off her T-shirt. Molly’s gaze strayed to the little black sports bra. With a swift motion it fell to the ground.

  “Tell me I’m the best,” Yoli sneered as she teased her nipples. “Tell me I’m the only one you need.”

  In a voice she barely recognized she said, “You’re the best. You’re all I need.”

  Somehow they wound up on the floor amidst the chair legs, gasping and moaning. Molly wanted to go down on her to prove her love, but Yoli’s hands pressed her shoulders to the floor. She had other ideas. She stripped off Molly’s shorts and panties and climbed on top of her. Their hips found a rhythm and when Yoli’s fingers went inside her she started to moan.