Gypped Page 2

  They walked to Zelda’s car, during which time Regan learned that Zelda had been left $8 million by an elderly neighbor she barely knew.

  “Eight million dollars!” Regan gasped.

  “Can you believe it? This woman lived in my apartment building. She was a loner. I always said hello when we passed each other in the hallway, I held the door for her, and when she wasn’t feeling well I offered to walk her dog. She let me do that a few times but wasn’t interested in even having a cup of tea together. After she died, I was flabbergasted she left me anything, never mind that much. My building was nice, but not the kind of place where you’d imagine someone down the hall had at least eight million dollars in the bank.”

  “I guess it makes up for losing on the game show,” Regan remarked.

  “It does,” Zelda said. She laughed heartily, instantly bringing Regan back to those days in the studio. Not a single bad clue went without comment. Zelda and Regan both prayed Betty White would be their celebrity partner. No such luck.

  “So when did you become a multimillionaire?”

  “Almost a year ago.” They reached Zelda’s Mercedes and loaded the bags in her trunk. “Listen, Regan, I have to hurry. This week I’m staying in an old Hollywood Hills estate. I don’t think anyone has lived there in years. The owner donated the use of the house for a week, as a prize at a charity auction. I bid the most—which isn’t saying much because nobody else wanted it. I’m having a dinner party tonight. Why don’t you and your husband come along?”

  “Jack is working.”

  “So come by yourself. The place is a kick. There are hiking trails next to the property. I was thinking of suggesting a moonlit walk after dinner if people are up to it.”

  “That sounds great, Zelda. What time?”

  “8:00.”

  “I’ll be there,” Regan said as she wrote down the address. “It’s so funny to run into you like this.”

  “It was meant to be, Regan. I truly believe that. I’ve been studying the universe. Everything happens for a reason. I coach people on that.

  “Coach people?”

  “I’m a life coach. I’ll tell you about it tonight. Can I give you a ride to your car?”

  “No, thanks, it’s up on the next level. It’s easier to walk.”

  “Okay. See you later.”

  Regan waved as Zelda backed out her car. Wow, Regan thought. What a story. She turned, and immediately noticed a tall, scruffy guy wearing a baseball cap and jeans coming into the garage from one of the side stairwells, a set of keys in his hand. Anxiously, he glanced around. Regan watched as he rushed down one aisle, up the next, then tried a key in the passenger door of a small car. It didn’t work. Quickly he backed away. He walked up another aisle and tried the key again with no luck.

  What is he doing? Is he looking for a car to steal? Regan asked herself. Most people have at least some idea of where they parked their car. Surreptitiously Regan followed him as he went up and down the aisles looking around, then headed for the main staircase and hurried down the steps. Her heart beating fast, Regan followed after him to the lower level where he also scouted out cars. She tried to keep her distance, but when he started back toward the main stairwell he seemed to sense her presence, stopped, and glanced around. Their eyes met.

  People were strolling to their cars, unaware of what was going on. I can’t put anyone in danger, Regan thought as she quickly turned and started to walk away. A moment later she turned back.

  He was gone.

  Regan headed to the security office as fast as she could.

  2

  It was great to see Regan again, Zelda thought as she drove up into the Hollywood Hills with the radio blaring. If we spent any time together, we’d really become good friends. I should take a trip to New York soon. I will take a trip to New York soon. Zelda smiled. It’s nice to have money. I still can’t get used to it.

  She was about to switch radio stations when the ringing of her cell phone interrupted a particularly irritating commercial for stomach upset. On the dashboard she could see that it was her father calling. Zelda pressed a button on the steering wheel.

  “Hi, Dad! How’s Vegas? Did you have fun last night?”

  “Hello, honey,” Roger Horn bellowed. “Thanks to your generosity, Bobby Jo and I are having a wonderful time.”

  “That’s good,” Zelda answered, trying to sound enthusiastic. “I wanted you to enjoy your birthday again.”

  After Zelda’s mother died four years ago, her father had been so lonely. Friends wanted to fix him up with women but he wouldn’t have any part of it. He’d have breakfast with his pals at a local coffee shop, take a two-mile walk, then sit in his mobile home up in Santa Maria reading the paper and watching television. Zelda prayed that somehow, some way, he would meet that someone special. Her prayers were answered. Three months ago he encountered Bobby Jo at a gas station. She asked him for his help with a pump she couldn’t get to work. Never one to refuse, he did. Since that day she had hardly let him out of her sight.

  “Be careful what you pray for” had almost become Zelda’s new motto. But she was still trying to remain optimistic, and stick to “Everything happens for a reason.” It wasn’t easy. “Did you win any money?” she asked brightly.

  “No, but I won something much better.”

  “What’s that?” Zelda put on her blinker and gratefully turned into the steep driveway of the Scrumps estate. There had been a lot of traffic.

  “I won Bobby Jo’s hand in marriage.”

  “What?” Zelda exclaimed as her hands went flying into the air. The car started to veer into the woods. Zelda grabbed the wheel and pressed harder on the accelerator, lurching the car forward.

  “That’s right, honey. Last night we were having a grand time celebrating my birthday. There we were, sipping champagne, playing the slot machines, when two rings came up on Jo Jo’s machine. She turned and looked at me with those big brown eyes of hers and, just like the flirt she is, said ‘I need another ring.’ ”

  I can’t take it. Zelda cringed, not wanting to hear any more.

  “So I said, well, let’s get you one.” Roger laughed and sounded exuberant. “We’re like a couple of kids. I never thought I’d feel this happy again.”

  Oh my God, Zelda thought, as she kept driving toward the house, barely noticing the overgrown lawn and bushes.

  “Next thing you know we’re grabbing a taxi, and our way to a drive-through chapel. I’m sorry you missed the wedding, honey.”

  Missed the wedding? Zelda wanted to shout. It was in the back of a cab!

  “The driver was our witness. I gave him a good tip.”

  By now Zelda had pulled around to the back of the house, past the caterer’s van. Her head was reeling. If Bobby Jo makes him happy, I should be happy, she tried to convince herself. Mom must be rolling over in her grave. Mom, who was so soft spoken and sweet and understated. Bobby Jo was nothing like her. But then again, maybe that’s better.

  But they only met three months ago! And it’s my fault!

  In July, Zelda had flown up to Santa Maria to spend the weekend with her father. A few hours after she arrived, Zelda decided to take a shower before they went out to dinner. Her father, feeling restless, went out to gas up the car. He came back with Bobby Jo.

  “You don’t mind, honey, if this lady joins us?” he’d asked Zelda. It was a rhetorical question. “She’s on her way back to Santa Barbara from a visit to San Francisco, and boy, does she make me laugh.” He’d slapped his knee.

  At the time Zelda had been happy to see a sparkle in her father’s eye. A sparkle she hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. How could she object? That afternoon, Zelda had given him a pep talk about getting out and dating. She didn’t expect him to act on it so fast.

  Bobby Jo was an attractive, sturdy woman in her mid-sixties, with bleached blond hair cut close to her head. When Zelda met her, she was wearing the feminine version of a bowling shirt, if that’s possible, green shorts, an
d sneakers. Her jewelry consisted of large hoop earrings, three different necklaces, a gold watch, and a colorful wooden bracelet. Her makeup was simple—orange lipstick.

  At first Zelda had no objection to having Bobby Jo join them, even though she didn’t seem like her father’s type and he had met her at a gas station. But by the time the appetizers were being cleared, Zelda got the feeling that Bobby Jo wished Zelda would disappear along with the empty plates. Roger was a handsome, hearty seventy-year-old man. Zelda tried to tell herself that if Bobby Jo didn’t necessarily appreciate her presence, it was understandable. If I met a guy I liked, I wouldn’t want his kid with us on the first date.

  But still.

  And now they’re married!

  “Honey, let me put your stepmother on so you can congratulate her.”

  Zelda gagged. Stepmother!

  “Hello, sweetie pie,” Bobby Jo said. Her deep, throaty voice sounded like she was always about to cough.

  “Well, what a surprise!” Zelda sputtered. “It’s not every day your father gets married in a drive-through chapel.”

  Bobby Jo started to laugh. She kept laughing.

  It’s not that funny, Zelda thought, as she tried to fake a laugh. As a matter of fact, it’s not funny at all. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you both.” She could barely get the words out.

  “Thank you sooooo much. Now, I don’t expect you to think of me as your mother . . .”

  Have you lost your mind? Zelda wondered.

  “. . . but I hope we can be the best of friends. After all, we’re the two people on this earth who love your father the most ... Roger, give me a kiss . . .”

  How did this happen? Zelda thought frantically as she listened to them smooch.

  “... and I promise you I’m going to take good care of him always.”

  “Great, Bobby Jo. I have to get going. I’m having a party tonight at the house I won at that auction.” Zelda didn’t expect Bobby Jo to remember. She never did. “Could you put my father on?”

  “No prob. Love you lots.”

  Zelda shuddered. “You too,” she said almost inaudibly as Bobby Jo handed her father the phone.

  “I hope you’re not mad at me for getting married without at least telling you first, never mind having you there.”

  “Of course I’m not mad,” Zelda lied.

  “That’s good,” he said softly. “Because if I thought about it too much, I might not have done it. And I’m so glad I did.” He paused. “I know you want me to be happy. And one of the things that makes me happiest about getting married is that you can finally stop worrying about me. Those couple of years your Mom was so sick were tough on us. You worked so hard taking care of her. Since she died you’ve been fussing over me. I want you to enjoy your life.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It’s time for you to meet someone who will love you like you should be loved. Someone who will take care of you the way you deserve to be taken care of.”

  Zelda’s throat tightened. “Thanks, Daddy,” she croaked as tears stung her eyes. “I’m happy for you. I really am.”

  “That’s my baby girl.”

  “I can’t wait to see you. I’ll throw you a reception up in Santa Maria for all your friends. We’ll start to plan it when you’re back home.”

  “We can start planning it before then.”

  “Okay, but not now. I have to go. My soiree is this evening. The caterers are already here.”

  “What I mean is that we can make plans in person. Bobby Jo and I were thinking about driving to Los Angeles tomorrow night when the sun goes down. If you don’t mind, we’ll spend a couple days with you. It’s not every day you get to sleep in a mansion, no matter how much it’s falling apart! Bobby Jo and I are out to have fun!”

  “Yeahhh,” Bobby Jo yelled in the background. “Let’s party! Yeahhh!”

  Zelda slumped against the wheel.

  3

  Regan waited a moment, then raced down the stairway to the ground floor. She didn’t know which way to turn. To the left meant going back into the garage, to the right was the outdoor mall. Regan went back outside, spotted an information booth, and hurried over.

  A young guy, who looked properly groomed to greet the public, was chatting on the phone. He had just the right amount of gel in his hair. Regan could smell his cologne. The nametag pinned to the breast pocket of his dark blazer said Edward. Regan waved at him. He put up his hand in the “just a minute” fashion. Can’t he register that I have something important to tell him? Regan wondered. Impatiently she looked around. The second chair in the booth was empty. Either budget cuts or break time, she reasoned. I’ll bet the latter.

  “So sorry,” Edward said as he hung up the phone. “What can I help you with today?”

  “I was just up in the garage,” Regan said, pointing, “and I noticed a guy who was acting very suspicious. He had a set of keys in his hand and tried them in two different cars, then hurried off. I think he was looking for a car to steal.”

  Although Edward frowned slightly, it didn’t seem that the possibility of a criminal lurking nearby mattered much to him. “Huh,” he said, unconsciously picking at the neatly trimmed fingernail on his right thumb. “I can take you over to security but my coworker isn’t here right now.”

  “Where is security?” Regan asked quickly. He thinks I’m a nut. Shouldn’t he be at all concerned?

  The side door opened and his coworker stepped inside the large booth with a steaming cup of coffee. “Three more hours until I get out of here,” she grunted.

  Edward smiled broadly. “Perfect timing! Tara, I’ll be right back.”

  Regan watched as Edward got up, went out the side door, and came around. She followed him into the security room on the ground floor of the garage where television screens monitored the activity on all six levels. Edward introduced her to the guard who was at his desk eating a sandwich.

  The guard also seemed nonplussed by Regan’s story. “People need a ticket to get out of the garage,” he explained. “It would be really hard to get out of here if you don’t have a ticket.”

  “I’m a private investigator so I guess I tend to notice suspicious behavior more than other people would,” Regan said as politely as she could. “I don’t think I’m overreacting. I know what I saw. Would you like a description of the guy?”

  “Why not?” He pulled open a drawer and fished around for a pen.

  When Regan left, she shook her head. Neither Edward’s nor the guard’s reaction made sense. What good would it do them if this mall got a reputation for car theft? Shoppers would go elsewhere. They’d be out of a job, that’s what. No one would come here.

  Back at her car, Regan unlocked the door. Once inside, she replied to Jack’s text and told him about her plans for the evening. She didn’t mention what had just happened. No use worrying him.

  On her way back to the Island Hotel, a luxurious new establishment near Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, Regan finally smiled. Wait until Jack hears about my afternoon, she thought. I think he’ll agree with me that guy was probably looking for a car to steal. He’ll tease me about my jeans. But for now I’m sure he’s glad that I have something to do tonight.

  At the hotel, Regan left the rental car with the valet. Staff members greeted her as she made her way to the spacious gleaming marble lobby and walked past a cocktail lounge where the after-work drinks crowd was starting to gather. When she reached her room on the sixth floor, Regan dropped her purse and shopping bag, kicked off her shoes, and poured herself a glass of water from the bottle on the nightstand. The pale apricot carpeting and draperies were soothing. The soundproofed room was calm and quiet. It was a world apart from that dressing room.

  Regan sipped the water. I could get used to living in a hotel like this for at least a little while, she thought. It’s not bad going out, leaving an unmade bed and a breakfast tray, and coming back to find everything spotless.

  I should feel more relaxed, but I know why I’m not.


  Regan went over to the desk, turned on her laptop, and started to research auto theft. One headline that struck Regan’s eye said that the most car thefts occur on New Year’s Day. After a night of merriment, people call cabs. When they return after sleeping it off, their beloved set of wheels is nowhere to be found. Make that the second headache of the day. Any New Year’s resolution to think positive is down the drain.

  Regan scrolled down the page. Car thieves must hate it when big snowstorms hit on New Year’s Eve. Cuts into the business when people stay home.

  Why can’t I get that guy out of my head?

  Regan glanced at a few more articles. A lot of what she read she already knew. The most luxurious cars are not usually targeted. Mid-priced popular cars are stolen for their parts. These days car tracking devices can help, but only when drivers quickly realize that their car is gone. If your car is stolen when you are just settling in with your popcorn to watch a three-hour movie, good luck. By the time the credits roll, the only part you might retrieve is the glove compartment.

  Oh well, Regan thought. There’s nothing I can do about it now. I gave security my cell phone number. If at the end of the day a car is missing, they can call me. I’m pretty sure I can identify the guy.

  Regan got up, went over to the bed, and pulled back the spread. She folded it up and placed it on the chaise lounge. I’ll just rest for a few minutes, she thought, then get up and take a shower. With the three-hour time difference I don’t want to be too tired at Zelda’s party.

  She went into the bathroom and changed into a white terrycloth bathrobe with the hotel’s insignia. When she returned to the bed she laid down, not expecting to actually fall asleep. But she did. The soothing room did its job.

  But it couldn’t protect her from her dreams.

  She dreamed she was in the dark, running away from someone, but she didn’t know where she was.

  And there was no sign of Jack.

  4