Beach Bags and Burglaries (A Haley Randolph Mystery) (24 page)

Wow, he must have been really pleased with me.

What else could it be?

O
bviously, I was going to get a reward of some sort. I mean, really, why wouldn’t I? I’d solved Jaslyn’s murder, identified the accomplice in Shuman’s cold case, broken up an international art theft ring—and solved a couple of other crimes Walt Pemberton didn’t even know about—all without a single mocha Frappuccino. Was that reward-worthy or what?

I was feeling pretty darn good about things as we crossed the hotel lobby and went inside the security office.

No one was there. No balloons fell from the ceiling. No confetti cannon fired. Huh. What kind of celebration was this?

Pemberton didn’t sit down. He didn’t invite me to sit, either.

I got a weird feeling.

“Your resort pass was recovered,” he said.

My weird feeling got weirder.

He handed me the card, then opened the door to another office. It was an interview room furnished with a metal desk and four really uncomfortabe-looking metal chairs. The lighting was harsh, the air warm. Slumped in one of the chairs was—oh my God, Ben Oliver.

His shoulders drooped, his eyes were dull. His elbows resting on the table seemed to be the only thing holding him up. He looked worn out and disheveled in the same khaki pants and blue polo shirt he’d had on for days.

“Ben, are you okay?” I asked.

“He’s uninjured,” Pemberton barked. “This man was found using your resort pass. Do you want to explain how that happened, Miss Randolph?”

Oh, crap.

“Mr. Oliver here is not a guest of the Rowan Resort,” he went on. “He’ll be sent back to the mainland where he’ll be arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

Ben covered his face with his hands.

“Arrested and prosecuted? Seriously?” I demanded. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I don’t like reporters sneaking around my resort, spying on guests, and sticking their noses into things that aren’t their business,” Pemberton said. “Nor do I like guests doing that, Miss Randolph.”

I’m pretty sure he meant me.

But there was little he could do, except maybe ban me from the resort for life—which, after this vacation, would be okay with me.

Still, no way was I going to stand there and let Ben get arrested and prosecuted for anything.

Immediately, I switched to I’m-better-than-you mode.

“Then maybe you should pay closer attention to what’s going on here,” I said. “Ben is an investigative reporter and he’s ready to break a story about theft at your resort, perpetrated by your own employee against the very guests who come here expecting world-class security.”

“He already knows,” Ben moaned.

Pemberton gave me a smug smile. “Oh, yes, we discovered the Celebrity Panty Raid site. It’s shut down. Gone. Out of business.”

Okay, so that hadn’t worked out as I’d planned. I pushed on.

“Then Ben will report on the hidden passageways and secret door in the hotel,” I told him, using my you-can’t-top-this-one voice.

“Carpenter crews have already closed them off. Walls have been painted and papered. There’s absolutely no sign they ever existed, so no proof for a news story,” Pemberton said. “Besides, Sidney Rowan owns, or influences, almost every media outlet in the country. I can guarantee the story will never see the light of day.”

Damn. I hadn’t thought of that. Still, I kept going.

“Sidney Rowan can’t squash a story that’s public record,” I insisted. “Ben will cover the case against Sebastian Lane, the mastermind behind the whole scheme. The press will be all over it. Ben will make sure of it.”

Pemberton shook his head. “Sebastian isn’t being prosecuted. Actually, Mr. Rowan was impressed with his resourcefulness and innovative thinking. So impressed, in fact, that he’s paying Sebastian’s way through college and has already offered him a job after graduation.”

Ben collapsed onto the table.

Oh my God, Pemberton was determined to destroy Ben’s story, which would destroy Ben’s career. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to do something.

Jeez, a mocha Frappuccino sure would come in handy right about now for a brain boost.

Then it hit me.

“Fine,” I said. “Go ahead and arrest him.”

Pemberton’s I’m-winning smile dimmed.

Ben banged his head against the table.

“Arrest him. Prosecute him. Bring out a battalion of lawyers,” I said, waving my hand. “It’s just the proof Ben will need to confirm that he succeeded in compromising the security of what is supposed to be the world’s most carefully guarded vacation resort.”

Pemberton stopped smiling.

Ben lifted his head.

“Every morning talk show and every celebrity TV show will be clamoring to have him on,” I said. “Web sites, bloggers, newspapers, tabloids, magazines will carry the story of how Ben stowed away on your own supply boat, then sneaked onto the resort without even raising an eyebrow from security personnel and lived out in the open for days until your team stumbled over him for his unauthorized use of a resort pass.”

Pemberton’s expression soured.

Ben sat up straight in his chair.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I did that.”

“And when those reporters ask Ben why he came here in the first place, what do you think he’ll tell them?” I asked.

“Everything!” Ben sprang to his feet. “I’ll tell them about the secret entrances into the rooms, the hidden passageways that were never blocked off, and Celebrity Panty Raid.”

“Everyone will believe him, and the resort will be buried under an avalanche of lawsuits from guests,” I said. “And you’ll be lucky to get a job as a Walmart greeter.”

“All right!” Pemberton shouted.

He gave Ben and me serious quadruple stink-eye and fumed for a few minutes more, then said, “All right. Fine. No prosecution.”

Ben smiled and headed for the door, but I wasn’t ready to give up.

“What about my friend’s lucky panties?” I said. “She wants them back. They better not have been sold.”

“They weren’t,” Pemberton said. “I’ll see to it they’re returned immediately.”

“And she should be compensated for the distress she suffered,” I said. “Sebastian had a bid for ten grand for them. I think that should cover it.”

Pemberton huffed. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Let’s get out of here, Haley,” Ben said.

I still wasn’t ready to leave.

“Ben needs a job,” I said.

Ben froze.

Pemberton’s eyes narrowed and I’m pretty sure he was wishing I’d drop dead.

“If Mr. Rowan liked Sebastian’s resourcefulness and innovation, I’m sure he’ll appreciate the same in Ben,” I said. “He needs a job as a reporter at Southern California’s biggest newspaper.”

“I’ll talk to him about it,” Pemberton grumbled.

I gave him my own version of mad-dog-stink-eye.

“I’ll make it happen,” he declared.

“Good,” I said. “I think we’re done here.”

I put my nose in the air and left the interview room. Ben hurried out behind me.

“That was really cool,” Ben said when we reached the hallway outside the security office.

“It was pretty darn cool, wasn’t it?” I said, smiling.

I love being me.

We stopped and just looked at each other for a few seconds.

“I’d better get off this island before Pemberton changes his mind,” Ben finally said.

“Don’t go yet. You should enjoy some of your time here.” I handed him the resort pass Pemberton had returned to me. “Go to the shop and get some new clothes.”

Ben shook his head. “No, I can’t do that.”

“Look, after the miracle I just pulled off for you, don’t you think I deserve to see you dressed in something decent?” I asked.

He grinned. “Yes, you definitely do. And I’ll pay you back for the clothes, I swear.”

“Meet me at the wedding reception at the grand banquet hall,” I said, then added, “and don’t argue with me about it.”

Ben raised both hands in surrender.

“I’ll be there soon,” he said, and headed down the hallway toward the shops.

I hadn’t solved Jaslyn’s murder in time to avoid attending Yasmin’s wedding, but at least I’d missed out on most of the reception. I decided some dancing, a glass of wine or two, and hanging out with my BFFs was just what I needed right now.

I took the stairs up to my room—no way could I show up at the reception unless I freshened up first—and took my time reapplying my makeup and styling my hair. Standing in front of the mirror I was debating whether to change my dress when a knock sounded on my door. I opened it and saw Patricia smiling at me.

“The Sea Vixen tote bags just arrived,” she announced. “I brought yours personally.”

My spirits lifted. Wow, this was just what I needed to get me through the rest of my day.

“Great,” I said, and noted she had a cart with her that was loaded with identical Rowan Resort gift bags. “You must have had lots of guests who wanted a Sea Vixen.”

“It’s a gorgeous bag,” she said.

With great care—though falling balloons and a confetti cannon would have been nice—Patricia presented me with one of the gift bags. My heart soared as I moved the brilliant white tissue paper aside and pulled out my very own Sea Vixen, in all its polka dot glory.

It was gorgeous—absolutely fabulous—and it felt great to finally hold it in my arms. I’d had a heck of a time getting it, but I thought I should say something gracious, anyway.

“I really appreciate the resort giving me this,” I said.

“It’s the least we could do,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said, and stepped back, ready for some alone time with my new bag.

“Wait,” Patricia said, and presented me with another bag. “This is for you, too.”

Another gift? I couldn’t imagine who would have sent it.

I took the bag, moved the tissue paper aside, and saw another Sea Vixen. Oh my God. Now I had two of them. A gift card stuck out of the top. I opened it and saw that it was from Ben.

I couldn’t help smiling. He’d gone to the shop to get decent clothes for himself, yet he’d remembered I’d mentioned to him that I wanted the Sea Vixen. Yeah, okay, he’d charged it to my room, but since Holt’s Department Store was footing the bill for my vacation, what did I care? I doubted Ben knew that, so I figured he’d attempt to repay me as soon as he started working that terrific job at Sidney Rowan’s newspaper. I’d set him straight then. For now, this was totally cool.

“There’s something else for you,” Patricia said.

“Another gift?” I asked.

Wow, was this awesome or what?

I juggled the two Sea Vixen totes in their gift bags as I accepted the next one from Patricia. I opened it and—yikes! Another Sea Vixen. I fished out the card and saw that it was from Shuman.

“And another,” Patricia said, and kept smiling.

I opened the next gift bag and—oh my God, yet another Sea Vixen. I dug out the card. This one was from Jack Bishop.

“And one more,” Patricia said.

I couldn’t believe it. She pressed another gift bag into my arms

Jeez, had I told absolutely
everybody
I knew that I wanted one of these totes?

I reached into the bag for the gift card, but Patricia said, “There’s no card with this one. It was a phone order from someone who wished to remain anonymous.”

A secret admirer had given me a Sea Vixen? Who could it be? Every man I knew had already given me one.

Ty flashed in my head.

Oh my God, was this from Ty? It was just the sort of thing he’d do. But how would I ever know for sure?

“Enjoy your bags,” Patricia said. She smiled and waved as she wheeled the cart away.

I ducked back into my room and placed the Sea Vixen tote bags on the bed. For a moment I considered lying down and rolling around with them—I mean, really, who wouldn’t.

I was thrilled to have them but, jeez, five of the same bag?

Well, at least I knew what I could give everyone for Christmas this year.

I left my room and headed for the grand banquet hall. No way did I want to deal with Yasmin and all the wedding reception chaos after what I’d been through today. But hanging out with my friends for a while sounded perfect—along with a glass or two of wine.

Then it hit me.

While I adored my three BFFs—and a glass or two of wine, occasionally—what I really wanted was my life back. I was tired of being on vacation.

Yeah, vacations were great and I’d had some fun and relaxing times here at the resort, but what I craved now was my usual routine. My own apartment with my own bed to sleep in. My car. The drive-through at Starbucks and a mocha Frappuccino whenever I wanted it. I missed my friends at L.A. Affairs, and weird as it sounded, I kind of missed my crappy salesclerk job at Holt’s.

The sameness of my life rated high on my own personal I-love-life meter right now. I wanted things the way they always were. I wanted to look into the coming weeks and months and know that nothing would change. Everything would be the same.

All I had to do was get through Yasmin’s wedding reception. Tomorrow I could leave the resort and get back to my usual routine.

I went downstairs and followed the hallway to the grand banquet hall. The double doors stood open. Inside, hundreds of candles blazed gently illuminating the sparkling crystal and china and the zillions of pink flowers.

My life at home flashed in my head. First thing I’d do after leaving the Rowan Resort welcome center, of course, was head for the nearest Starbucks.

Most of the guests were seated at the tables, and a few were on the dance floor, even though the band wasn’t playing.

Next, I’d hit the mall—and take my totally hot Sea Vixen tote with me, of course—and do a little shopping.

I skirted the edge of the tables and headed for the bar.

I’d look for a new dress, I decided, or maybe some capris and—

Something flew through the air at me. I grabbed it.

What the heck was going on?

A dozen people headed toward me and the whole place erupted in applause.

“You got it!” Yasmin squealed, pushing her way through the crowd. “I told you I’d throw it to you, and I did!”

Oh my God—I’d caught the bouquet.

Yasmin clapped her hands and hopped up and down. “This means you’ll be the next to get married! You caught the bouquet with the Heart of Amour pendant! It’s tradition! You’ll be the next bride!”