A shudder runs through me at the memory of the poor man’s corpse and his spilled blood on the floor of the vault. “I’m not about to forget. It’s not every day I find a friend murdered at my place of employment.”
That’s when pieces of the puzzle start clicking into place. So many images rush through my head that I get dizzy. Mr. Pak . . . the invitation to Myanmar . . . the missing rubies . . . the vault . . .
“He left the stones in the vault, didn’t he?”
“Shut up! And move.”
I open the door, but can’t move forward. Why would he have brought them here? Why come see me?
“Look,” I say, hoping to bargain, at least for answers.
“You’ve got a bullet with my name on it, so it’s no big deal if you tell me what it’s all about. Let’s face it. Who am I going to tell once I’m dead?”
“The vault.”
“All right, already! You’re like a broken record.”
“I know what I want.”
Feeling a bit more confident, I push open the door, step into the ladies’ room, praying Julie’s at her post, and when I catch a glimpse in the mirror, get the shock of a lifetime.
“
At the same time she mutters a curse, my former boss’s trophy wife jabs me harder with her stupid gun. Mad? D’you think you’ve seen mad? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!
“What do you think you’re doing?” I yell. “Are you crazy?” She tosses her bottle-blond, extension-boosted mane. “Are you forgetting who’s holding the gun?”
Yeah, you guessed it. Julie’s not at her post. Why should she be? If she were, I wouldn’t be in trouble. And you know how it goes with me and . . . well, trouble.
“Fine. You’re holding the gun, and if poor Mr. Pak’s anything to go by, you know how to use it. My question’s why?” “Why?” Her blue-contact-enhanced eyes narrow. “Why not? Why shouldn’t I have the nice things I want?”
She shrugs. “They’re only pre-mine. I make sure they become mine when I decide I want them.”
“Like Roger?”
“He was a mistake.”
“What does that mean?”
Another flurry of faux fur . . . er . . . hair. “I thought he wanted the same things I do. All those years he’s been wheeling and dealing, and now he gets cold feet!”
“Cold feet?” Try ice in my veins. And Roger?
“He chickened out at the last minute. Pak had told him about the stolen rubies awhile back. Roger made sure Pak knew he wanted the stones—if Pak ever got his hands on them.”
I feel sick to my stomach. “Are you saying Mr. Pak stole the stones?”
She waves her gun. “Are you kidding? He didn’t have the guts to do something like that. He had nothing to do with it, but since he traveled to . . . ah . . . Magoo? Magone? That place they get the rubies. Anyway, he traveled there a lot, and he was scared the government would think he stole the stones.”
That’s better—but not all good. Not yet. “Roger wanted to sell stolen goods?”
“How ’bout that safe, Andie? Your rent-a-cop’s going to be back soon, and I’m not sticking around long enough for her to see me.”
Another stomach lurch. “What did you do to Julie?”
“Nothing. She got a call saying her kiddies were throwing up. She went to her day care to get them.”
“And she’s going to find out no one from the day care called her, right?”
She shrugs. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
“And that means killing a nice man who . . . what did he do for you to think you needed to kill him?”
“What’s it to you? Open up the safe. Mr. Pak knew how to break safe codes, but I don’t. And I know you know the combination, so don’t try to play that game. I’m not dumb.”
“I don’t. Not for sure. But he didn’t have them on him when I got here, and he did tell Roger he’d found them.”
“Really? How’d he find them?”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“Do you?”
“Don’t get smart, Andie. I’m holding the gun.”
