Page 50 of A Lifetime in 30 Days
She heard dry laughter and turned her attention back to the stairs by the door. As her house was a split-level, the front-door entryway led to a choice of either coming up the stairs to the living/dining room/kitchen space or going down the stairs to the basement area, which consisted of a room Vanna used for storage, a larger room that was set up like a second living room, a bathroom, and a laundry room.
Detective Parish cleared the top step, one of those brown paper bags she’d seen the other officer carrying in his hands. “You sure you want to stick by your statement that you had nothing to do with the robberies?” he asked.
Beaumont, with his lecherous glare, came up right behind Parish. He carried one of those brown paper bags as well.
“No, I don’t, because it’s the truth,” Vanna shot back.
“Oh, the lies we tell,” Beaumont said, and reached into the bag he was carrying to pull out another bag.
“What is that?” Vanna asked.
“Oh, this?” Beaumont feigned surprise as he looked down at the second bag he was holding by its handle. “It’s what they call a money bag—and what do we have here?” He looked up at her with arched brows as he turned the bag around so that the front of it was facing her. “Is that the logo for the Lennox Casino?”
Oooooh shit!
Vanna wanted to shout that it wasn’t hers. She wanted to yell that they’d planted that in her basement, but she knew enough to keep her mouth shut at this moment. Granny, on the other hand ...
“You dirty bastards!” she yelled, and stepped out from behind where Vanna and Jack still stood. “You know good and damn well you brought that in here with you, and now you’re acting like it was here all along. You’ve been in here all afternoon, and you just found that! Bullshit!”
They were the words right out of Vanna’s mind, but she reached out and put a hand on Granny’s arm. “It’s okay,” she said in a tight voice. “It’s okay. Just let them do their job.”
Even if their job seemed to be to frame her for the crime that Caleb had committed, because Caleb’s wretched behind went and drowned himself. Or had somebody drowned him the way somebody had driven that guy Elliot Joble off the road? She hadn’t asked for an autopsy because she’d accepted when the ME told her he’d drowned, yet the police had requested one. Only she hadn’t seen the results.
“Are you finished now?” she asked them, beyond ready for them to leave.
“Yeah, I think we’ve got what we came for,” Parish said with another chuckle. “You might want to call your attorney now, see if he can set up another meeting. This time with the AUSA to talk about making a plea deal. You’re gonna need one.”
Vanna didn’t speak another word, just stood there and watched the detectives and all the other officers who had been in her house leave.
“I’m gonna have my crew walk around and put things back in order,” Jack said once they were gone. “They didn’t mess it up that much. I’ve seen them do much worse.”
Vanna couldn’t find the words to ask how or why he would’ve seen such a thing; she’d simply muttered a “Thank you,” then took the stairs up to her bedroom.
Granny and Frito followed behind her. She didn’t want any more strangers in this part of her personal space, so she’d come up here to put things in order herself. Jack had been right: there wasn’t that much damage. They’d closed her dresser drawers, but when she opened them, she could tell her things had been riffled through. Same for her nightstand drawers. Her closet door was open, some shoeboxes knocked over; a couple of jackets had fallen on the floor, probably when they’d brushed through her clothes.
“If that boy wasn’t already dead, I swear I’d kill him,” Granny grumbled from where she sat on the edge of Vanna’s bed.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve said that same thing,” Vanna said as she put a pair of multicolored wedges into the appropriate box.
At the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs, Frito jumped down off the bed, where he knew he didn’t belong in the first place, and headed toward the door.
“Get out of my way, goofy dog,” Jamaica complained as she came in and had to skirt around Frito, who thought he was standing guard.
Ronni was right behind her, but she knelt down to try to calm Frito. The dog was such a traitor, because the moment she rubbed his head and started speaking in that weird baby voice she used with Jonah, he was putty in her hands.
“Girl, what the hell?” Jamaica said, wrapping Vanna into a hug as soon as she was close enough.
Vanna accepted the hug and threatened her tears not to fall. She would not break. Not now.
“I don’t even know, J. I don’t even know,” she said, and shook her head when her friend released her.
“Did you call your attorney?” Ronni, who was now carrying Frito’s spoiled ass, asked.
“Yeah,” Vanna replied. “I called as soon as I got in the truck. Then I shot you two a text.”
“Did you call Aden?” Granny asked.
Vanna had moved out of the closet and was heading toward her bathroom now. “Yes. I sent him a text.”
