Free Fanny Packs and Foul Play (A Haley Randolph Mystery) by Dorothy Howell Page A

sparks
flying,” Marcie said. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
    Under normal circumstances I would have
welcomed a change in topic, but remembering my mom’s Thanksgiving
Day dinner threatened to throw me into crab-ass-mode again.
    “Mom’s having people over,” I said.
    “Oh. Sorry.”
    Marcie knew about my mom.
    “I have an event that day, an afternoon
thing. Maybe it will run long and I won’t have to go,” I said.
    Of course, I’d never hear the end of it if I
didn’t show up and threw off Mom’s seating chart.
    “Are you hanging out with your family?” I
asked.
    “Mom hasn’t told me what we’re doing yet, but
we’ll probably go to my grandma’s again,” Marcie said.
    Marcie’s family was awesome. Her mom was
terrific. Honestly, I was always a bit envious.
    I thought about Veronica. At least my mom
wasn’t in prison—and even that didn’t make me feel better about my
own mother.
    My attitude was in a death-spiral, I decided,
as we entered Macy’s. If I didn’t find a handbag here to lift my
spirits, desperate measures would have to be taken.
    For a couple of months now I’d been putting
cash away in my underwear drawer to buy myself something fabulous—I
mean, something more fabulous than the fabulous things I often
bought myself. What I had in mind was a Louis Vuitton tote. It was
an iconic bag offering a host of refinements—from the redesigned
interior that featured fresh textiles and heritage details, to the
lining in a selection of bright shades that lent a vivid pop of
color to the timeless Monogram canvas.
    Yes, that was the description on their
website.
    Yes, I’d memorized it.
    How could I not?
    I didn’t dare mention any of this to Marcie,
though. She’d try to talk me out of buying it—right now, at least.
She’d explain how Christmas was approaching, how I hadn’t had my
job performance review at L.A. Affairs that would guarantee me a
permanent position there, that the tote cost over three grand, and
blah, blah, blah.
    Not that I didn’t appreciate Marcie’s concern
for my finances.
    Anyway, if I didn’t find a handbag I
loved—and soon—I was going to break down and buy the Louis Vuitton
tote.
    When Marcie and I got to the handbag
department at Macy’s we did our usual search, scoping out the
purses in the display cases. We made one lap, then looked at each
other and sighed. No words were necessary. This trip had been a
total bust.
    “Don’t you have to get to work?” Marcie
asked, glancing at her cell phone.
    As if today hadn’t been yucky enough, I still
had to face several hours at Holt’s this afternoon.
    Oh, crap.
     
    * * *
     
    The generations-old tradition at Holt’s
Department Store nixed displaying Christmas decorations until after
Thanksgiving—one of the very few retail establishments that
celebrated Christmas during the actual Christmas season. Nothing
went up until Black Friday.
    I didn’t know if our customers appreciated
the store’s we’re-Christmas-purists attitude but they sure as heck
seemed to like the Thanksgiving Stuff-It sale, I realized as I
squeezed through the crowded aisles heading for the employee
breakroom to clock-in.
    The corporate marketing department had come
up with the idea of giving customers a free shopping tote and
granting them a twenty percent discount on everything they could
stuff into it from our seasonal section. The shelves were filled
with canned and boxed foods—gravy, vegetables and, of course,
stuffing—and some decorator items.
    Thankfully, none of the employees working in
that department had been required to dress up in turkey
costumes.
    When I reached the breakroom, several
employees were already lined up and ready to clock-in, while others
who’d come in earlier in the day were seated at the tables eating.
I stowed my handbag and got in line. Bella came in and went
straight to the refrigerator.
    “Is it your lunch break?” I called.
    “I’m checking on my food,” she told me, as
she