No Place Like Home

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I’d forced Ramirez into divulging what he knew but had failed to prepare myself for the ramifications.

And now I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what had become of my best friend or what this “plan” of hers fully entailed.

If it was similar to any of the others I had been privy to over the years, it wasn’t looking good.

Still, I had to find my friend and bring her home. It was time to channel my inner-Powerpuff Girl and suck it up, Buttercup.

“What do you mean by ‘off the grid’? And, who’s this ‘friend’?”

“The friend’s name was Shelby Harris.” I squinted. The name did sound vaguely familiar. Thankfully, Ramirez noted my confusion. “She was an intern when Leah worked at the paper. Leah liked the girl’s spirit, took her under her wing and showed her the ropes. She said Shelby had talent but was a bit of a challenge when it came to following the rules. Tended to get herself into all sorts of trouble—kind of like someone else I know.” He gave me a pointed stare, which I ignored.

“Moving on.”

“She didn’t make it long on her own after Leah left and tried her hand at freelance gigs, though she hoped—according to Leah—her big break would come in the form of one of her investigative pieces.”

I felt a pang of regret mixed with shame. Leah had barely mentioned Shelby and yet she’d been instrumental in her mentoring. Instead, I’d been wrapped up in my own drama, oblivious to my best friend’s challenges and struggles—and attempts to use them to help someone else.

I shook my head, proud of my best friend but frustrated by my oversight in acknowledging it sooner.

Ramirez’s voice snapped me out of my reverie and back to the present and the matter at hand. “Leah said that Shelby’s latest story du jour was a scam she happened upon in the vacation home rental industry.”

“Vacation rentals? As in homes or condos that people rent on a short-term basis to out-of-town baseball fans during spring training?”

He nodded. “Shelby told Leah that she’d uncovered some strange things going on in some of the older neighborhoods near Old Town Scottsdale. Many of the homes had recently been sold, then flipped and repurchased by a property management company. Leah also said that she had alluded to some hinky connection—Leah’s words, not mine—between the people doing the flipping and those taking on the managing, but that wasn’t what caught Shelby’s attention.”

I shifted back, realizing that I had been sitting on the edge of my chair, hands clutched on my lap to the point of numbness.

“While at a club in Old Town with friends, Shelby noticed a group of girls enter the club, immediately spreading out and mingling with other club-goers.”

“I hate to tell you, old man, but it sounds like a pretty typical Saturday night in Old Town.”

“I’m not too old to forget,” he replied, without a hint of snarkasm. “What struck Shelby as odd was that while all the girls arrived together and were dressed and made-up similarly, they weren’t really together…as in, they didn’t even seem to know one another.”

“That’s definitely odd.” Sometimes groups congregated out of obligation and were indifferent toward one another, but unfamiliar?

“‘Odd’ does not begin to cover it.” For the first time since we’d started this conversation, Ramirez broke out of character as his lips curled into an unflattering scowl and his eyes became slits as he recalled what Leah had told him.

“Shelby watched as they worked the crowd and made themselves comfortable with several of the patrons who rewarded them with cocktails and attention. When the conversation dwindled, or the drinks stopped readily flowing, they would move on to the next target.”

“‘Target’? Don’t tell me all those club-hopping days of yours left you jaded. Surely, even you realize that’s typically how the game is played. Present company excluded, of course.”

Ramirez rolled his eyes. “Can I finish?” I returned the eye roll.

He grunted. “As I was saying, the girls made the rounds, chatting up other club-goers but never interacting with one another. Occasionally, she would see a girl slip a guy a card before moving on. Finally, around one thirty a.m., the girls began peeling themselves away from the crowd and exiting one by one. When Shelby followed, she noticed that the guys who had been given the cards were also making their way out. One of them unknowingly dropped his card so she grabbed it.

“All it said was ‘After-party? Meet me in the parking lot at one thirty-five to board the party bus in the northeast corner of the lot—you can’t miss it. Present this card. Entry not permitted without it. No exceptions.’ She caught up with them in the parking lot just in time to see them boarding the party bus.”

“Was it actually a bus?”

He hacked out a laugh. “No. One of those limo-style Humvees.”

“Typical cliché in Old Town. So what happened to the guy who dropped his card?”

“They denied him entry, so he had some choice words for the driver. Shelby wanted to chat with him but had to decide between him and following the party bus to its destination.”

“She chose the latter,” I responded, causing Ramirez to grumble something I didn’t quite catch. “Yeah, yeah. I know because I would have done the same. Shoot me.”

“Right. Shelby followed the van. She didn’t have to travel far. The party destination was a few short blocks away, tucked into one of the older but recently revitalized South Scottsdale neighborhoods. Or, as some would put it, being taken over by the vacation rental industry.”

“So, let me get this straight. The party was being held at one of these vacation rentals?”

“Several of the homes were recently converted into rental properties after the original owners sold them—it’s been a popular area for buying and selling. Since most were built in the 1950s and 1960s, they were taken down to bare bones after the purchase and rebuilt with a more modern look and feel.”

“Curb appeal.” I nodded. “It’s been going on in my neighborhood, too. Unfortunately, it often results in a monstrosity with zero charm that quickly loses that appeal after the new owner defaults on their equally monstrous loan. The bank usually takes over, and the home is repurchased at a fraction of the cost by individuals interested in flipping it to make a quick buck. I don’t condemn the entrepreneurial spirit, being an entrepreneur myself, but when you destroy a neighborhood’s uniqueness in favor of fast money, I have serious qualms.”

“Pretty much the same thing going on in these neighborhoods, too. You’ll hit some streets where there’s a one-in-ten ratio of homeowners actually living in their homes to those that are occupied solely by short-term renters.”

“And in this situation, short-term constitutes a day or two, as opposed to weeks?”

“Usage-wise, yes. Whoever is running this game books it for the minimum, though they could request a day-term, which can be granted on a case-by-case basis.”

“That option seems risky,” I replied. “It’s better for them to fly under the radar, not put themselves on it.”

“Exactly what Shelby said to Leah. Anyway, once she got to the drop-off location, she watched as the driver deposited his passengers and then took off.”

“Did she happen to catch a—”

“License plate—yes. It led nowhere.”

“It was stolen?”

Ramirez shook his head. “More like it never existed. It was a well-crafted fake, belonging to a company that no longer existed.”

“Forget what I said about risky,” I murmured. “What did Shelby do next?”

“Probably the same thing you and your cohort would have done—she waited them out.” I smirked at his remark and gestured for him to continue. “At four forty-eight in the morning, a different white van returned—plates were also fakes—and collected the guys.”

“Odd time, don’t you think?” Before Ramirez could respond, I added, “Wait…collected the guys? What about the girls?”

“If you’d stop interrupting, I would have gotten to it,” he replied. “But to answer your first question, sunrise was at four fifty-two, so perhaps, not so odd. You don’t want the residents who actually live in the neighborhood observing your comings and goings when you’re doing something shady, do you?”

“As if they didn’t already notice,” I muttered. In some communities, like mine, people noticed what everyone was doing, no matter the hour.

“Perhaps not, but to answer your second question, Shelby let the bus go so that she could continue watching the house,” Ramirez replied, absently scratching Nicoh’s head.

“Let me guess. Another white van showed up.”

“Yes, but not until around noon.” When I shot him a look of confusion, he added, “Shelby watched as the women, who had changed into regular clothes—shorts and t-shirts—hauled garbage bags to the dumpster. When the van driver showed up, they all filed out, each boarding with a partially filled garbage bag in hand.”

“What was in them?”

Ramirez shrugged. “Shelby figured it was their party clothes, makeup…stuff like that.”

“So there were spare clothes already waiting for them at the house?”

“Sounds that way. No way they were getting paid a garbage bag’s worth just to party and pick up some random dudes.”

“You’d be surprised,” I replied with a snort, causing Ramirez to roll his eyes.

“I have no place to go with that, so I’m just going to move on. Shelby followed the van. Most of the girls were dropped back at the club.”

“Interesting.”

“Indeed. But despite her best efforts, she lost track of it on the freeway.”

“I take this is not the end of the story?” I asked.

“Not by a long shot. Later, she returned to the house. Nothing happened for six days, so she returned to the club the following weekend and again, nothing. She went to another club and another and a week later hit pay dirt at yet another club.”

“Same girls?”

“Not one of them. Not even the van or driver. Same setup, though. Different house.”

I blew out a long breath. “Wow.”

Ramirez nodded. “She did this for several weeks—even added in a few extra days to her club-going—and finally, patterns emerged, a few of the same girls, drivers, houses. Even ended up back at the original house and watched the same process play out. And because it was the house where it all started, at least from her perspective, she went as far as staking out the house, watching days on end where nothing happened. Until it did.

“On a random, middle of the week day, a luxury SUV showed up, and the driver opened the door for his passenger—a woman in her late twenties to early thirties, dressed to the nines. Rather than escort her to the door, the driver promptly got back in and drove away, leaving his passenger as she entered the house.

“Minutes later, a van appeared, filled with eight to ten girls of various ethnicities, ages, etc. All were dressed in casual clothing—jeans, shorts, tank tops and t-shirts. The other woman emerged from the house, and they had a quick pow-wow on the front lawn before she ushered them in. Shelby had her window rolled down, hoping to catch something, a bit of a conversation, etc. But the woman spoke in hushed tones, and it seemed clear that the others knew better than to question her authority. Anyway, several minutes later, she swore she could hear a vacuum running.”

“They were cleaning the house?”

Ramirez nodded slowly. “It would seem so. After a while, one of the girls rolled a mop bucket out and drained its contents into the street, followed by a couple of others hauling rugs out so that they could beat them with a broom.”

“Odd,” I murmured.

“Not as odd as the moving truck that showed up to swap out furniture.”

“What? Like stagers?” I had known real estate agents who did that and had shot more than a few pics of homes with furniture that was rented by the hour so that the home had more star power in magazines, on their company’s website or in online promotions.

“I guess?” Ramirez shrugged. “Couches, carpets and the beds were all new, for sure.” He chuckled when I scrunched my nose. “But yeah, everything else seemed new-ish, probably from some furniture or staging warehouse.”

“This is starting to play out like a soap opera. I’m almost afraid to ask what happened next. But please, go on.”

“After the furniture movers left, another truck showed up.”

“Don’t tell me it was the stripper pole installers.”

Ramirez raised a brow. “You think they need an entire moving truck for that?”

“Well, I doubt you can order them on sss and then expect the driver to set it up for you.”

“Hmm…I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” I shot him a dark look, realizing he was having some fun at my expense.

“Seriously, what was it?”

“Clothes. Racks and racks of clothes.”

“I was closer to the mark with the soap opera analogy than I thought,” I murmured. “Let me guess—party clothes.”

Ramirez nodded. “Shortly after that, an SUV arrived—different SUV from the one that dropped off the first gal—and Shelby thought this group of individuals comprised something she called a glam squad.” He shrugged and raised his hands. The sincerity behind his befuddlement caused me to chuckle.

“Makeup and hair, Ramirez.”

I was rewarded with a healthy frown.

“Right. Whatever that entails.” When I started to respond, he raised a hand. “Please. No. I do not need you to elaborate. Let’s just say the girls came out several hours later dressed rather…provocatively. I’m still not sure what takes women so long.”

“Well, if you would have allowed me to expound.” I shrugged, opening my hands in a “what can you do?” gesture. He opened his mouth. Shut it again. Frowned. Though limited in his facial expressions, the man amused me to no end. “Come on, Detective. The ‘glam’ in ‘glam squad’ didn’t tune you in?”

Confusion turned to a tightened jaw that worked itself hard enough to cramp. “I don’t appreciate your amusement or your tone. And for the record, the lack of clothing didn’t help clear up matters. Nor did the pound cake worth of makeup or the massive amounts of hair that sprouted out of their heads that wasn’t there before. According to what Shelby told Leah, of course.”

“Of course.” I strained to withhold a snicker. “Those were probably extensions. As in hair extensions,” I clarified in an attempt to throw the man a bone. A “pound cake worth of makeup”? The man needed to seriously amp up his game.

“Laugh it up, AJ,” he ground out. “Need I remind you why we are having this conversation?”

The helium sufficiently released from the balloon, we returned to our somber discussion.

“Point taken. I assume Shelby followed them to one of the clubs in Old Town?”

“She did. Same setup. Only this time around, she zeroed in on one of the girls in an effort to get more details.”

“Okay…” I replied, guessing this is where things got sketchy.

“The girl was not only willing to chat with Shelby, she also gave her a card—one designated for potential girls only—”

“Potential girls?” I interjected. “As in for recruitment purposes?” When Ramirez nodded, I pressed my eyes shut. This was getting worse by the minute.

When I opened them, I found him studying me. His own features had softened as he revealed a look I’d seen before—concern. I nodded to let him know I was okay. I wasn’t, but the sick feeling in my gut was far worse when I started thinking about what could have happened to Shelby and Leah.

“Any idea why Shelby zoned in on that girl?”

He nodded. “Shelby recognized her. Her name was Tamryn. Tamryn Mayer.”

I held up a hand. “Wait. Why does that name sound familiar?”

“She’s the daughter of that billionaire electric car rental guy. You know, the one who’s been buying up all the real estate around the valley—who reneged on the sports complex?”

Recognition dawned. “Craig Mayer? Also known as Cro-Magnon?”

“Nailed it.” Ramirez released a harsh chuckle.

I shook my head. “That makes no sense. Why would a girl like Tamryn, coming from an affluent family like the Mayers, need to resort to…that?” Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so quick to pass judgment but was feeling scritchy because, like Alice, Leah had chased the white rabbit down the rabbit hole. And Tamryn, by way of Shelby, was at the bottom of it.

Ramirez shrugged. “Why does anyone do anything?”

“Don’t go getting all philosophical on me now.”

“Fine. I honestly can’t say for sure. Maybe because Tamryn’s a rich twenty-something with a chip on her shoulder, which was brought on by her father when he publicly disowned her after flunking out of Arizona State University.

Something clicked in my memory bank. “Um, I’m pretty sure the whole fall from grace stemmed from something far more…scandalous than flunking out of A.S.U.”

He tilted his head. “Go on.”

“According to Leah’s intel back when it happened, Tamryn posted several provocative videos on social media of her…consorting with various athletes—both college and pro—as well as a few coaches, some of who were married. It was a video diary of her exploits, but in a very public arena. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if her dad backed out of the sports complex because of it.”

Ramirez frowned. “Backing out of a business deal is one thing. Disowning your child is taking it to another level. Seems a bit harsh, no matter what she’d done.”

“Yeah, you might think that, but after he received several angry calls from his business partners, as well as members of the school’s administration, he took away her allowance—and I use that term loosely—she retaliated by posting pictures of him in a few compromising positions with his own co-ed.”

“Cold.”

“You know what they say about revenge.”

“Almost makes you feel sorry for the guy.”

“Don’t. There’s a reason Tamryn’s the way she is,” I replied.

“Karma, then.”

“Why Ramirez, I didn’t think you bought into that kind of thing.” I mock-punched him in the arm, causing him to fake a wince.

“I think you just made me a believer. Anyway…why don’t we get back to Shelby.”

“Right. You were telling me that Shelby started chatting with Tamryn and that Tamryn offered her a card.” When he nodded, I added, “Let me guess. Shelby feigned interested and used the offering to get on the inside track, which means she went undercover as one of these girls to get details for her investigative story. And when she went missing, Leah followed her lead and did the same. And now she’s missing, too.”

Rather than answering, he worked his jaw, refusing to make eye contact.

“What is it you’re not telling me?”

Ramirez met my eyes and my stomach dropped, even before his voice cracked as he said the words.

“About Leah. I was the last person she contacted before she disappeared.”