Page 66 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

The store was small but packed full of sexual treasures. It was tacky, gaudy and so perfectly Goldie. Black and gold industrial carpet like you'd see in Vegas on the floor. A painting of a naked woman on a bearskin rug over the counter. A small chandelier over my head. It wasn't Macy's.

Behind the counter were Veronica and Goldie. On the glass display case was George the Gnome, smiling, clearly happy to see me. Standing next to the section of bachelorette items was Mrs. O. She wore a pair of crisp khakis and a pale pink blouse. A soft yellow scarf was artfully wound around her neck.

Next to her was Laurel. He wasn't as put together. He wore a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee and a red sweatshirt withAlabama written in white letters across the chest. Hardy was nowhere in sight. No customers.

“Violet, I'm so glad you're here,” Mrs. O said, her smile brittle, but she seemed calm enough.

I looked between the ladies. All were stiff, formal. Definitely not the usual carefree environment.

Laurel stepped forward, looked at me, and glanced over his shoulder at Veronica. “She's right. You are twins. You're the one I'm looking for. There was a mix-up with the necklaces and it seems you still have the real one.”

I felt the heavy weight of the jewelry in my hoodie pocket.

“Mix-up?”

Laurel pointed at Goldie. “It seems when this woman here compared the two necklaces that day at Mr. Jgorgen's house, she switched the two back.”

“It was an accident,” Goldie said innocently. “Could have happened to anybody.”

Probably not. Goldie could take something as simple as a necklace swap and turn it into a complete fiasco. It was no big deal. I'd just trade necklaces back. So why was everyone so tense?

“Sure. Just give me the replica and we'll switch it out.”

Laurel's eyes were dark brown. Shifty. There was something I saw in them that was more than just an FBI flub. “I don't have it with me right now, so I'll have to send it to you. Give me the original piece and I can be on my way.”

I felt like I was in a standoff at the O.K. Corral. Goldie and Veronica stood quietly watching. Mrs. O was über-observant as if she were waiting for something.

Why was the FBI wearing an Alabama sweatshirt? Laurel and Hardy hadn't worn suits in Alaska, but they also hadn't proclaimed their allegiance to a college on their chest either. Wasn't the museum that was robbed in Alabama?

“I couldn't find it. I must not have packed it in my suitcase.”

Laurel looked like he was going to stroke out. His face was red, the veins on his neck bulged. “You don't have it? Then where the hell is it?”

This was not the tone, nor the look, of an FBI agent.

“Mike probably has it.”

“Your fiancé?”

I nodded. Darting a glance at Mrs. O, she too, nodded, but at me.

“Why don't you call him, Violet? See if he can bring it in,” Mrs. O suggested. Her expression was unreadable but, if she said it, then she wanted me to call him.

I pulled my cell from my pocket, keeping the necklace hidden.

“Violet, what the hell is going on?” Mike yelled when he picked up. I winced because he came through loudly. I hadn't heard his voice since Alaska and, even with his angst, it sounded good. At least I knew he was alive.

I backed up a step to stand next to the dusting powders. “I'm at Goldilocks and the FBI is here to pick up the necklace I left with you. I guess there was a mix-up. Again.”

“Vi, I don't have?—”

I cut him off. “I know you don't have time to come down here, but since you have the necklace, it would be really helpful.” I couldn't tell him I had a man on the edge standing directly in front of me. Why hadn't Mrs. O karate chopped him yet? Did he have a gun? A knife? It didn't appear so, but the guy seemed imbalanced enough to proceed carefully.

Mike was quiet for a minute. “Shit, Vi. Either you've lost your mind or something's up. Look, I just landed. I'll do what I can.”

He clicked off.

What the hell did that mean?I'll do what I can.Landed where? Was he in New York? Bozeman?

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