Part 14 (2/2)
He crossed his arms across his chest. ”First of all, I have facts, not a.s.sumptions. I get a warrant. And I don't go off half-c.o.c.ked. I have backup.”
The air around us dropped twenty degrees. What was I thinking, consulting a process-driven rule-follower?
I stepped back. ”We don't have three months to execute your standard operating procedure. We have an hour before the first heat. No pressure, but if you don't come up with a suggestion, I'll go with my idea. And we both know you won't like my grab-and-dash plan.”
Grey and I stared at each other as he silently strategized. My plan was simple: confront Gia and make her hand over the bottle and contents for Daniel to a.n.a.lyze. I even had a backup plan if she refused: grab the container and run. It was plan B that I knew Grey wouldn't like.
”Unless she admits to cheating, Zippy will run in the race. If she is cheating, any possible fallout will come after today's event.”
There were times when Grey's logic was rather deflating. This was one of those times. ”I realize that's a possibility. But we still have to at least try.”
I was so wrapped up in s.n.a.t.c.hing the water bottle away from Gia, I didn't notice Betty approach.
”Hey Cookie, Stephanie's here sniffing around the food. I called Officer Cupcake, like I promised.”
Betty shuffled toward us as if nothing was amiss. But after one look at her, I knew that wasn't the case. She looked like she'd wrestled the last brownie away from a starved serial-dieter and had paid for it dearly. She wore elastic polyester pants (since when did Betty wear polyester? She's a cotton-and-silk type of gal), a wrinkled graphic tee with multiple stains, and gra.s.sy sneakers. Her straw handbag hung on her arm. Where were her silk printed pajamas? Her pearls?
Most importantly, where were her lipstick eyebrows?
All thoughts of Gia and the water bottle were pushed aside by my concern for Betty.
”Where have you been?” I wrapped my a.s.sistant in a hug. ”Are you okay?”
Her small frame felt delicate in my embrace. Her coa.r.s.e white hair, which needed a good brus.h.i.+ng, tickled my nose. I stifled a sneeze. As we hugged, I detected an unusual scent surrounding her. I quietly sniffed her s.h.i.+rt. Unless she'd bought a new perfume, she smelled like hamburger. Maybe she'd brought her lunch with her.
She patted my back then stepped away. ”You're holding up traffic. How are we supposed to make money if you block the only entrance to our booth? Where is everyone?”
I gently held onto her arm. ”Sweetie, I've been worried about you.”
She brushed off my hand as if I were being overprotective. I suppressed my surprise at the large bruise developing under her paper-thin skin on the back of her hand.
”You don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself,” she a.s.sured me.
It sure didn't look like it.
She gave Grey an appreciative onceover. ”Nice to see you again, handsome.”
He smiled warmly as he made his way to her. ”I'm glad you're here.”
As she lifted her cheek for him to kiss, the neckline of her s.h.i.+rt dipped, exposing two long red scratches at the base of her neck. I couldn't let that pa.s.s.
”What's going on? You're dressed like a b.u.m. There are scratch marks on your neck. You never called me last night to let me know you made it home. And you were supposed to be at the shop hours ago.”
She raised her hand to cover the sc.r.a.pes. ”It's really none of your business.”
You know what? I was tired of people telling me what was my business and what wasn't.
”Wrong. It became my business when your daughter showed up at the boutique, begging me to keep you out of trouble.”
Betty snorted her disgust. ”That child only thinks about herself. It's none of her business either. I'm a grown woman. I don't have to answer to anyone.”
”No, you don't. Have you looked in the mirror today? You're a disaster. For goodness' sakes, did you really think I wouldn't notice you're wearing polyester pants?”
She cast a sideways glance toward Grey who was being unusually quiet.
”I-I fell. This morning,” she admitted, never looking me in the eye.
”You're okay?” he asked.
”I'm fine.”
I wasn't convinced that's all there was to it. But Betty had her own ideas, and she didn't like to be told what to do. I understood that about her. There wasn't much more I could do, except dispense some tough love.
”Alright. Then as your boss, I expect you to be at work when you're scheduled and dressed in your Betty clothes. Do you get what I'm telling you?”
She nodded. ”I hear ya, Cookie. No more playing hooky. Ha. I made a rhyme.” Once she was finished laughing at her pun, she shoved her hands on her hips and tsked. ”You may be the boss, but you stink at displaying our products. No wonder we don't have any customers.”
She hooked her straw handbag on the crook of her arm and stomped toward the haphazardly-hung dog leashes.
”I was a little pressed for time.” Great. Suddenly, I was on the defensive.
”Humph.”
As she pa.s.sed Grey, a dollar bill fell from her purse.
”Hey, you're dropping money.” I picked it up.
She s.n.a.t.c.hed the bill then shoved into her purse, once again avoiding eye contact. I couldn't help but notice there was more cash inside her handbag. A lot more.
My eyes narrowed. ”Betty, is your purse stuffed with dollar bills?”
She hugged her handbag to her chest. ”I don't loan money to friends or family.”
I lifted my eyebrows. ”Please tell me you haven't been hanging out at the drag queen bar again.”
”Oh, that's a great idea. I have plenty of tip money.” She swiveled her hips. ”I may have to leave early today. I love that Cher gal.” She danced as she hummed a Cher tune.
Wait. Were those chili stains on her t-s.h.i.+rt? That would explain why she smelled like hamburger. Then it hit me. Oh. My. Gosh. I shook my head in denial, but I knew it was true. ”Betty, have you been betting on the wiener races?”
She froze. Blinked a couple of times, then lowered her handbag to her side. ”How do you know about that?”
I couldn't look at Grey, especially after I heard his groan of dismay.
”You have been gambling,” he stated flatly.
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