Wine, Dine and Christmas Crimes by Maria Swan (brene brown rising strong .txt) 📕

time the van was unlocked and unattended. The doorman told her not worry, he would keep an eye on it. Don’t forget, the reason she was able to drive out of there is because the van had been parked in the back, close to the service entrance. That’s the way the garbage bags were taken out. The doorman had offered to help her because she had to drag the bags the last 3 flight of stairs, the outside stairs. While the police were going door to door, he must have slipped the poor girl’s soiled clothing and shoes along with her phone into B&B trash bags. He did, however keep her wallet.”

“Wait, wait. How do you know all that?”

“It made the news tonight, but Detective Ross told me when I went to see if Leta needed bail. They have him on camera trying to use her ATM card.”

“He killed her to get her money?”

Brenda shook her head no, fiddled with her e-cigarette, her eyes closed. I felt like a peeping Tom and never asked her what happened to Tommy, but her note had disappeared from the back door. Might as well go home.

“Good night,” I said. “You look like you need a good night’s sleep. You can tell me the rest tomorrow.”

I left without knowing what happened with Leta or sharing the news about my dinner date with someone’s else’s husband.

TWENTY-TWO

A HYSTERICAL KASSANDRA woke me up at 7 a.m. apparently her secret group messed up, and she found out about The Nest’s doorman from—oh, the horror, the evening news. I doubted the ten o’clock news used the lurid terms she did to describe the murderer’s intentions. And I had trouble accepting that the Walter of the gold buttons uniform could actually have schemed such a complicated killing. I did believe that he purposely turned off the security cameras on the inside of the building for about fifty minutes. After all, that was part of his job, to mind the security aspects of The Nest, but I sensed that the victim’s overdose of drugs, whatever drugs she took, might turn out to be more complicated to sort out.

If the doorman had slipped a roofie into her glass of wine without knowing she had already taken that stuff from Kay’s medicine cabinet, well, there would be consequences. I sure wouldn’t want to be the one to decide who to hold accountable. Kay? Walter? I can imagine Dale Wolf’s sense of guilt for not being there on time. Poor, poor Ana.

The doorman sounded like a fool, a fool who played nice by letting Ana into the empty condo to change her clothes. He had to know the code—again, he was in charge of security. I kept replaying in my head that brief encounter when Gold Buttons gave me all that attitude about my car. He had looked...disheveled. Had he planned on rushing back to the rooftop to help Ana out of the pool? Did she know how to swim? All that went on while Dale Wolf snoozed on the lobby’s couch.

“Hey, Kassandra, I need to go pee, okay? You just woke me up, and I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Did you ask your aunt if they found that girl’s clothes?”

“Why would I ask Brenda such an idiotic question? How would she know?”

“Isn’t she dating that cop?”

Now I was pissed. “She’s not, and even if she was, he doesn’t work homicides. Are we done?”

“Sheesh, no need to be so rude. There is an APB out for the perp. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t, and I really need to go to the bathroom.” Perp? APB? What the hell was that? Two minutes later I was googling it. The police term APB stood for all-points bulletin. Some kind of alert from one police station to all others in the area with instructions about arresting a suspect or suspects. Well, how about that? Mean dude Walter of the gold buttons was now on the lam? How come there wasn’t a mention of a car, license plate, anything? I had been awake twenty minutes, and I felt worn out. No, no, no. Not today.

My hair appointment was scheduled before my nails and after my visit to the Scottsdale store where they sold the best and newest kitchen gadgets. I had just brushed my teeth when Sunny called. Sunny? First Kassandra, now Sunny. I hadn’t planned on going to the office at all.

“Hi, Sunny.” I waited.

“Oh, Monica, I don’t see your name on today’s schedule, but I could sure use you for about forty-five minutes. And there is a nice referral to be had by the Realtor who helps this contract through.”

“Huh?” I had no clue what any of this meant. Possibly because in all my plans of the day, I never did pencil-in ‘work.’ Plus, I didn’t recall referring anything or anybody especially in regard to real estate.

But, Sunny was my boss, and I trusted her, so I rinsed the rest of the toothpaste from my mouth and said, “I’m listening.”

Thirty minutes later I was on the 51 South, destination: The Nest.

Why, why did I agree to do this? My whole being screamed no, while my stupid lips had let yes slip out. Nothing made sense. Kay and Double Wide? Purchasing the vacant condo on the 13th floor? Sunny was brief and to the point. The contract was already written, all I had to do was pick it up, drive back to the office, and Kassandra would provide me with the info necessary to make sure the offer went directly to the seller. It had to be done now, before the Brown sisters’ flight landed at Sky Harbor. Sunny made a point to explain how I would be entitled to 10 percent of the listing agent’s commission, as agreed, and then I would receive a 30 percent of the selling agent’s commission while Kay and Dale Wolf would split the rest. Oh, neither Kay’s nor Dale Wolf’s names would be in the contract as they were using