Page 57 of In the Line of Ire

I sighedand agreed on both counts. Then I changed the topic before Iforgot. "Garrett said he and Traci plan to host dinner next weekand we should all bring something. What do you want tobring?"

"Babyformula and shop-bought cookies dispensed into a plastic tub.You?"

"Whatever Solomon makes," I decided.

"Saferfor everyone," agreed Lily.

"Hey! Ican cook! I've lived this long, so that proves it." Myprotestations were weak but fairly accurate.

"Mostly,on a diet of O'Grady's burgers, your mother's excellent meals, andalcohol."

"Don'tforget the fruit."

"Acherry in your drink doesn't count."

"It doesif you eat enough of them," I countered.

"A validargument," agreed Lily. "And a martini olive is practically avegetable."

Ilaughed and walked out of the mall into the fresh air after tellingher I'd call her later. I walked over to my car, waved discreetlyto Solomon as I passed the van, and hopped into my VW. A momentlater, the van pulled out. I followed it back to the agency wherewe both parked in the underground lot.

Solomonwalked over to me and opened my door, offering me hishand.

"Such agentleman," I said, kissing him.

"Only alady would notice," he said. "It will take me a little while tosearch out the camera gear and check on a few other things, as wellas write up today's report. Can you keep yourself occupiedtemporarily?"

"Absolutely. I also have things to do. Lily said a woman witha fake purse came into the bar today. She emailed me thephotos."

"She'scertain it was fake?"

"Yes,and she also has a lead on where it came from. This could turn outto be significant to the case."

"Checkit out."

Inside,we peeled off in different directions. I aimed for my desk andSolomon headed for the bank of cabinets that spanned one wall ofour office. Most of our paperwork was kept inside there but it hadenough space to stash a spare motion-sensor camera kit in it also.Apparently, Solomon didn't find what he was looking for so hedisappeared upstairs, leaving me alone until Fletcher and Flahertywalked in. Both were seasoned private investigators with a robusthistory in law enforcement although they were from differentagencies. Steve Fletcher was an ex-CIA man and Matt Flaherty was aformer detective. He was taken off the force when he got shot andwas subsequently rendered an invalid. I considered both men my goodfriends.

"It'sbeen a while," said Fletcher. He filled the coffee pot and switchedit on. "How's the case going?"

"I'llswap with anything you've got," I told him as I opened my laptopand hit the power button.

"We'redoing surveillance on a crack den for an irate landlord who wantsthem evacuated so he can renovate the property, sell it, and stoppissing off the neighbors," said Flaherty. "I get to spend most ofmy time dressed like a junkie. I haven't showered in over aweek."

Isniffed the air and pulled a face. "I'll stick with mysweet-scented mall job, thanks."

"Suityourself," said Flaherty. "When you get tired of handling designerpurses, you can always pretend to be a junkie too."

"Solooking forward to that." I smiled when he put a coffee on the desknext to me. First, I opened my email and looked for the one Lilysent. I clicked on the attached photo and zoomed in to examine thefeatures. She was right. The purse was a definite copy. A good one,but still a fake.

Next, Iopened the email from Maddox. He sent me sent a copy of the FBIfiles on Page's employees. There were fifty-six employees in total.I couldn’t simply write off some of them as potential suspects justbecause they didn't work in the accessories department so I startedfrom the beginning and skimmed all the files. Nothing seemed out ofthe ordinary and I figured Maddox had already done a lot of thehard work, like crawling through bank records. I read his note thatno one had any unexplained windfalls or seemed unreasonably flushwith cash. I looked closest at the files for Magda, Joan, Curtisand Tansy but nothing stood out.

Magdalived well within her means and spent most of her money on themortgage for a small house or pet supplies. Joan and Curtis bothhad student loans to pay off. Joan was paying off a small monthlyamount and renting a room in a shared house; while Curtis wasslowly accruing his tuition and living expenses while staying in adorm. Tansy didn't have any outstanding college loans and she livedin a lovely house with her parents after spending most of theprevious year traveling.

I satback and sipped my coffee, contemplating the large amount ofinformation I read. No one stood out as a criminal mastermind,which was disappointing. I took another sip, then opened thebrowser and searched for Alison Shore.

Giventhe popularity of her name, it took me a little while to find theright Alison Shore and when I did, her page was filled with friendstagging her post-mortem. Many people wrote what a lovely person shewas, how much she would be missed, and how shocked they were to"lose her." News traveled fast. I scrolled past those messages andlooked at the few public posts available. There were photos of thegirls' trip she took, complete with six laughing girls clad inbikinis and sarongs, wearing sunglasses and sipping luridly-coloredcocktails. I saw another recent photo with several high-endshopping bags, captioned, "Treating myself to a haul."

Excluding a brief update on that page from her sister,Catherine, there was no more information about her untimely death.The only other blurb I found about her was the recent headline intheMontgomery Gazette.A second update appeared a few days later sayingColin Strickland had been released without charges and the policewere making new inquiries.

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