“You don’t know her.” Cristian shook his head. “It’s not beyond the realm of possibility.”
I tried to keep things light with a shrug. “Then you’ll have the perfect excuse to search the bedroom for a safe.”
“You’ve become a hard woman.” His lips curled in a smile. “Criminal life suits you.”
“It suits all of us,” I said. “Now get up and straighten your clothes. I’ve got five bridesmaids for you to meet.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
?I was filling bags with jellybeans and mentally planning the heist on Monday afternoon when Garcia walked into the candy store at Westfield Shopping Mall. It had been a slow day, so I didn’t mind the distraction. My only customers had been a shoplifting toddler and his law-abiding mother, who dragged him back to return a handful of melted chocolate raisins and three dirty hard candies.
“What do you recommend?” Garcia walked along the aisle, inspecting the plastic bins full of treats. We had the tiniest shop in the mall with only two aisles separated by a wall of candy bins and a counter flanked by two barrels filled with toys. Plushies filled shelves along the walls, and boxes with sweet-smelling candies were stacked six feet high behind the counter.
“The peach penguins are my favorite,” I said. “But I also like the cola bottles. If you’re into sours . . .”
“If it’s sour, it’s not candy,” he said. “It defeats the purpose.” He took a small bag of peach penguins from the bin.
“An excellent selection.” I rang up his purchase and added a bonus package of Life Savers to his bag. “I don’t suppose you just happened to be in the shopping mall and by coincidence just wandered into my store . . .” I trailed off, half hoping.
“I have to buy gifts for my twin nieces,” he said. “They’re turning six next weekend. Since I had to shop anyway, I thought it might as well be here where I could drop in and see you.”
“If you keep this up, I might start getting ideas.”
“You and me both.” He smiled. I smiled. We smiled at each other. Damn him for his charm. Double damn him for his power of arrest.
“What can I do for you other than offer you penguins?” I said when the muscles in my cheeks protested the extended joy.
His smile faded. “There was an incident at the InterContinental Chicago the other night. A necklace was stolen at the Summer Garden Charity Ball. I was going through security footage, and I saw you.” He cleared his throat. “You looked stunning, by the way. Breathtaking.”
My smile came back, unwanted and unbidden, and along with it a pair of very heated cheeks. “Thank you.”
“It was hard to process—”
“Because I usually look slovenly and unkempt?” My free hand found my hip. Why did he have to ruin a good compliment by being unable to process the fact that I could look amazing? “Are you used to seeing me in rags and covered in cinders from the fireplace where I have to sleep while my wicked stepmother and stepsisters bounce in their feather beds upstairs?”
A bark of laughter burst from his throat. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you at that type of event.”
“Maybe I go to events like that all the time,” I said, bristling. “Maybe I have a closet full of designer dresses that I only wear once, and when I see someone else with my clutch, I toss it in the trash.”
His voice was quiet, gentle. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know people,” he said. “You’re one of the good ones, Simi. Not many people would do what you did for your friend.”
My head jerked up, hope filling my heart. “So you believe me?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. It’s all about the evidence.”
I stared at the scratches in the glass counter and heaved a sigh. “I got an invitation from a friend. I’ve never been to an event like that before, so you were right on that count.”
The spell broke. His eyes shuttered. He transformed from sweet guy to grumpy cop in a heartbeat. I hadn’t even heard the clock chime twelve.
“Does your friend happen to wear size thirteen boots and go by the name ‘Oliver Twist’？”
I picked up a mini gumball machine and fiddled with the plastic dial. “That’s an oddly specific question, but the answer to both parts is ‘no.’？”
Garcia flipped through his phone and held up a picture of a green-and-gold necklace. “Do you recognize this?”
For a heartbeat I considered lying, but if he had security footage of the event, he would have seen me talking to Simone.
“Yes, it belongs to Simone Du Pont.” My smile faded with his frown. “I met her in the restroom. She took it off and put it in her clutch. She said it was heavy and difficult to wear.”
“You had the same bag.” A statement, not a question. I was beginning to realize that Garcia didn’t ask questions if he didn’t already know the answers.
“Yes, she said there were three other people besides us who had one, and after the event she was going to toss it in the trash because it was too common. Can you imagine?”
“Is it possible you took hers by mistake?” His question was deceptively casual, but I heard the accusation beneath his words.
“No, because I cleaned it out the other day so I could sell it on Craigslist to help Chloe make rent. Her ex isn’t paying his child support and she was worried she’d have to move out of her place.” I hadn’t received the money from Mr. Angelini, and I didn’t want to take any chances.
His face softened and he shook his head and sighed. “Of course you did.”
“It was a gift,” I said quickly. “I’m not in a habit of selling gifts but she’s in a difficult situation.”
“As am I,” he said. “Two valuable necklaces have gone missing in the last few weeks, and you happened to be at both crime scenes. I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Well, prepare to have your mind blown,” I said. “I was there because I’ve started a new wedding planning business. I thought the ball would be the perfect place to get clients, and Simone made it happen. I got my first client that night.”
“Maybe you should give me the client’s name so I can warn her to keep her jewels locked up.”
Ouch. Burn. Garcia had to be worked up because sarcasm wasn’t really his style. It was that, more than the frighteningly accurate assessment or the subtle accusation, that made my bottom lip tremble. I liked Garcia. Too much. He’d even appeared in my bath time fantasies, but that was when I thought we had an understanding. He knew I was innocent, but he had a job to do. Now something had changed.
“That’s unkind, Garcia. My client is in her twenties. People our age don’t often have expensive jewelry, and if they do, I can’t imagine they’d have many places to wear it. There were only a handful of people at that ball under the age of fifty. What would be the point?”
“I don’t know why anyone wears authentic pieces anymore when 3D printing technology is so sophisticated, no one would be able to tell a replica from the real thing,” he mused, fiddling with a candy pen on the counter. “If people were sensible about these things, I wouldn’t be here questioning you again.”