Handbags and Homicide by J.C. Layne

Author:J.C. Layne [Layne, J.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J.C. Layne

* * *

Several hours later, Wren and Bitty are standing across the street from the building that houses Chaz Ames’ design studio. It’s an old bleached brick building that has been renovated into lofts in Soho. Chaz was so excited when he found it. It’s a perfect place to be creative. The energy and vibe is fabulous, he’d said.

They watch the group of police officers milling about outside the building. Wren asks, “Well, how are we supposed to get in there?”

“They’ll clear out in a jif, hon. Just relax.”

Wren paces back and forth in the four feet between them and the wall of the building. “How can I relax? I’m about to break into a building crawling with police.”

“I told you they’ll leave soon,” Bitty says as she focuses her binoculars.

“I feel ridiculous in this outfit.”

Still holding the binoculars in place, Bitty turns her head with surprise. “You feel ridiculous in jeans and sneakers?”

Wren looks down at herself. She is dressed in black jeans, a black tank top, black hoodie and black sneakers…and of course, she’s carrying a black bejeweled pleather handbag. “Yes.”

“You never wear jeans? Why not?”

Wren shrugs. “No reason to. I’m either always at work, or a function.”

“Hon, you’ve got to loosen up. You can’t spend your life all prim and proper and uptight all the time. Makes you old and stuffy too soon. How do you expect to get a man bein’ all uptight?” Bitty checks out Wren’s total ensemble and adds, “Wow! My handbag looks good with that there outfit.”

Wren rolls her eyes and starts laughing. “No, it does not.”

Bitty chuckles, “My handbag looks good with everthang. Them jewels go with anythang.”

Wren complains, “I look like a thief with bad taste.”

Bitty starts to protest, when Wren points. “Look, they’re leaving.”

Bitty grabs Wren’s wrist. “C’mon sug, we’re on.”

The two women head toward the building, careful to look around to make sure no one sees them.

They walk around to the back of the building to the service door. Wren tries the knob. It’s locked. She scowls and looks around. There must be something around here that can help them get into the building.

Seeing nothing, she stomps. “Dammit! See? I told you we shouldn’t be here.”

Bitty nonchalantly replies, “Check the handbag.”’

Wren turns to her. “Why?”

“Where’d you thank them clothes come from?”

“I thought you packed them.”

“In a handbag? Damn, gurl, you must be tarred,” Bitty grouses, “How you thank I was gonna get a whole outfit and shoes in that little ol’ handbag?”

Rubbing her forehead, Wren whines, “I’m so confused.”

Her irritation obvious in her tone, Bitty explains, “The handbag has whatcha need when you need it. Reach in an’ pull it out.”

Wren purses her lips. This woman is full of it. “Stop screwing with me. I’m not in the mood.”

“Check the handbag,” Bitty repeats evenly.

Reluctantly, Wren opens the handbag and reaches in. She gasps her hand finds a small metal object in the bottom. She pulls her hand out, holding a key.

Her mouth drops open as she looks up at Bitty.

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