Swiped in Savannah: A Made in Savannah Cozy Mystery (Made in Savannah Mystery Series Book 12) by Hope Callaghan (ereader android .TXT) 📗

Carlita fixed sandwiches for lunch. As she worked, she thought about how lonely Astrid must be. She wondered what would possess a woman to just up and leave the country with barely more than the clothes on her back.

She finished grilling the chicken parmesan paninis and wandered into Mercedes’ bedroom. “I made a quick lunch. Would you like to join us?”

Astrid hesitated.

“I insist.”

“Ma makes the best paninis.”

The women joined Carlita while she placed the plates of food on the dining room table. “Would you like tea or a Coke?”

“Water will be fine.” Astrid stared at the food hungrily. “You didn’t have to make me lunch. First, you give me clothes, not to mention helping to clear my name and now this. It’s too much.”

“It was no trouble.” Carlita poured three glasses of ice water. Mercedes helped her mother carry that, along with napkins and a container of pasta salad to the table.

“Merci.” Astrid reached for her glass of water.

Carlita took the seat across from the young woman. “Are you ready for the long flight tomorrow?”

“I hope so. I haven’t been on a plane in years. I went to France, years ago when I was younger.”

“Before you became claustrophobic,” Carlita reached for the dish of pasta. “I hope you don’t have trouble on the plane. It will be a very long flight.”

Astrid tugged on a chunk of melted cheese. “I have a confession. I’m not claustrophobic.”

Carlita and Mercedes exchanged a quick glance. “You’re not?”

“No.” Astrid set the sandwich down and pushed the plate away. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For lying. For lying to you. For lying to Elvira…for not trusting the people who were trying to help me,” Astrid said. “I…it’s just that I didn’t know who to trust.”

“So you’re not claustrophobic,” Carlita said.

“And I’m not Astrid Herve. I made that name up.” Astrid hung her head.

“We know,” Carlita said softly. “Elvira told us Astrid wasn’t your real name.”

Astrid’s head shot up. “Elvira knows?”

“Of course. She runs a security and investigative company. She checked you out before she hired you.”

Astrid’s jaw dropped. “And she hired me knowing I was lying?”

“Yes,” Carlita nodded. “And she let you stay on her property.”

Sudden tears welled up in Astrid’s eyes. Her lower lip started to tremble. “Why?”

“I suspect she knew there was more to your story. To her credit, she trusted you more than I did.”

“You shouldn’t have trusted me,” Astrid said.

“Why?” Carlita asked. “Other than the obvious reasons. My guess is you’re hiding from something…or someone.”

Astrid nervously sipped her water. Carlita could see the internal turmoil raging inside the woman. “Someone.”

“Someone who wishes you harm?”

“It’s my ex-boyfriend. My real name is Valerie Maxim. I’m from Charleston, South Carolina. He held me hostage. He was going to kill me. I escaped with the clothes on my back, my driver’s license and passport. I fled here to Savannah to stay with a friend. My cousin warned me Damian was planning to come down here. I couldn’t risk putting my friend in danger, so I left. I didn’t dare use my cell phone or my credit cards figuring he would track me down.”

“So you were living on the streets,” Mercedes said. “What about going to a women’s shelter?”

“I tried. They were all full.” Astrid clasped her hands. “When Elvira offered me a job paying cash, I knew I had a chance…a chance to go so far away that Damian would never find me, never follow me.”

“This is awful. Don’t you have family who can take you in?” Carlita asked. “What about the authorities in Charleston? You should stay and fight. You could get a restraining order.”

“I have no family. Damian’s family…they’re very powerful people. No one would believe me. I can’t go back there.” A tear trickled down Astrid’s cheek. She quickly swiped at it. “I have an old friend who lives in Paris. If I can make it to Paris, I have a place to stay until I can get on my feet.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Carlita asked gently.

“It’s either that or always be looking over my shoulder waiting for Damian to find me. You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“I’m sorry, Astrid.” Carlita didn’t know what else to say. She couldn’t imagine feeling she had no choice but to flee the country.

Astrid stared at the plate of food.

“You should try to eat something.”

“At least you have somewhere to go,” Mercedes said. “You had enough money for the plane ticket?”

“Plus a couple hundred extra bucks.”

“I do have one question. It’s been bothering me since I found out about the package you thought was a gift that you were holding onto for Mrs. Cagle,” Carlita said.

“You’re wondering why I agreed to hang onto it,” Astrid guessed.

“Yes. Especially after finding out a valuable piece of artwork had been stolen from the museum.”

“They were such a nice old couple, always inviting me to dinner. Never in a million years would I have suspected they were involved in the theft. Mrs. Cagle asked me to do one small favor. She seemed so excited about surprising her husband.”

“Did she tell you what the gift was?” Carlita asked.

“No. She made me promise not to tell anyone. She said it was a surprise.”

“It certainly was.” Carlita shoved her chair away from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

She strolled out of the apartment, to the pawnshop and the cash register. Carlita swiped her access card and opened the cash drawer.

Tony strode to the back. “Whatcha doin’, Ma?”

“I need money. Cash.” She counted out four hundred and sixty-two dollars. Carlita pocketed the larger bills and left the smaller ones in the drawer.

“Why do you need cash?”

“I’m giving some money to Astrid. Write an IOU. Take it