Downtown Debutante

“An estate sale in Florida. I’ve had it for a few months, but it needed repairs. This is the first I’ve shown it. Several people have said they might come back for it, so if you’re interested…”

Heath held out his hand. “May I?”

The woman handed it across the table to him. He casually flipped over the pendant. He didn’t see Brenna’s mark. He examined the piece with his jeweler’s loupe. No sign of her name. No mark of any kind.

“Do you know who the designer is?” he asked.

“No.”

“Do you have a receipt for it?”

Alice’s face hardened. “What’s this about?”

“The woman who was with me a moment ago thinks the necklace might be stolen. From her.”

Alice’s face melted into an expression of sympathy and her demeanor changed abruptly. “That’s awful. Oh, I hope it’s not true. I have the receipt in my office at home, I’m sure. I could get it for you. The outfit I bought it from is a respectable company that runs estate sales all over northern Florida. I can’t imagine they would deal in stolen merchandise. When did the theft occur?”

“Only a few weeks ago.”

Alice smiled. “Well then, it couldn’t be the same piece. If you want to give me your fax number, I can fax the receipt to you.” She handed Heath a card.

AliceSmith224@coolmail.com.

“Do you go by FrenchQuarterChic on the Internet?” he asked.

“No,” she answered, hard and swift. She held her hand out, obviously wanting her necklace back. “I really need to get going. I have to pick up my grandkid at the babysitter’s before it gets too late.”

Heath handed back the necklace. Could it be a coincidence? Maybe Brenna had been mistaken. Her mark wasn’t anywhere on the pendant. He decided the only way to sort this out was to bring Brenna herself back here to take a closer look at the piece.

Where the hell was Grif? When he really needed the guy, he was MIA.

He flashed his badge at Alice, whose eyes widened. “I don’t want you to leave this spot until I get back. I’m going to assume, for now, that it’s all a mistake. But if I have to come looking for you—and I will—I’ll have a whole new set of assumptions, and they won’t be pretty. Understood?”

“Well, you don’t have to get nasty,” she grumbled. “But I’m not waiting here all night.”

She didn’t intimidate easily, he thought as he took off after Brenna.

The security guard at the door had noticed Brenna, who didn’t exactly blend into the crowd. At Heath’s question, he pointed out the direction she’d taken—down a corridor that led to the ladies’ room. The corridor was empty. He cracked open the ladies’ room swinging door. “Brenna?”

“Leave me alone,” she called back on a moan.

“Are you okay?”

“What do you think?”

Hoping no one else was in there, he entered, holding his FBI shield just in case. But the room was deserted. Amazing, given how busy the trade show was.

He found Brenna leaning over the sink, splashing cold water on her face. She raised up, looking at him in the mirror, then blotted her face with a paper towel.

“Get out. This is a ladies’ bathroom, for gosh sake.”

“I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine. Go arrest somebody. That woman had my necklace.”

“Are you sure? You didn’t look at it very closely.”

“Of course I’m sure! You think I can’t recognize a piece of jewelry I worked over for days?”

“I looked it over. It doesn’t have your mark.”

That stopped her. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Marvin could have removed the mark.”

“The woman said she bought the piece six months ago in Florida.”

“Then she was lying! Heath, did you just let her walk away?”

“I flashed my badge and told her not to leave. If you look at the necklace and positively identify it as yours, I can demand that she produce the receipt.”

“Let’s go, then.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll live. Freaking oysters,” she muttered. “And I don’t want to hear you even think ‘I told you so.’”

He wouldn’t say it, that was for sure. He felt too sorry for her to add to her misery. But he was thinking it.

She looked shaky as they headed back for the exhibit hall. Fearing she might fall off her platform shoes, he offered her his arm, but she shook her head.

It was after ten, and the show was officially closed now. The security guard at the door let them in only when Heath flashed his badge. But as soon as they got inside the exhibit hall, Heath realized he’d made a terrible mistake. The French Quarter Chic booth was empty. Alice was gone, and so were all of her display cases.

The booths on either side of her were also deserted. Queries to a couple of other exhibitors were useless; everyone was focused on securing their own merchandise for the evening.

He left Brenna on a padded bench by the door, whispered to the guard not to let her go anywhere, then located the show’s security chief, who was concerned and cooperative. He enlisted a handful of his men to search for Alice, but she’d disappeared like a snake slithering into a pond, not even leaving a ripple. He personally searched her space, finding nothing but her empty soft drink can.

Supremely disappointed, he headed back toward where he’d left Brenna. Grif suddenly appeared by his side. “What happened?”

“Where were you?” Heath demanded.

“I stopped to buy some earrings for my girlfriend.” He patted his shirt pocket. “You seemed to have everything under control.”

“Yeah, well, all hell broke loose.” Heath stopped himself before he could lose his temper. He was irritated with Grif, but more angry with himself. He never should have let Alice get away. But he’d allowed his concern for Brenna’s welfare interfere with his good judgment.

He filled in Grif, who let loose with some suitably colorful curses. Then he asked, “What now?”