by Ellery Adams
“Yes, she worked at the Vine. It’s a trendy Hollywood restaurant, popular with the A-list crowd. I like to tease her that I married her for her chocolate cake.”
“Is it true you gave Iris a car for Christmas?”
“Yes, I did,” he said. “Whitney was complaining about her old car. She said it was an eyesore parked in front of our house and I either had to fire Iris or get her a new car. I knew Iris couldn’t afford a new car, so I bought her one.”
Molly was stunned. “Whitney wanted to fire Iris because she didn’t have the right kind of car?”
“It was rusted and the paint was faded,” he said. “In case you’re wondering, I gave the rest of my staff a big end-of-year bonus, so no one would feel slighted.”
“Dominic told me you gave Iris a cookie jar for her birthday. How did you know she collected them?”
“When I interviewed her for the job as housekeeper, I told her about my collections, and the importance of cleaning them carefully. She told me she understood, that she had a small cookie jar collection, and it was very special to her. When her birthday came around this year, I thought it would make a nice gift. I asked Brett to find one for me to give her. He found a rare 1950s American Bisque cookie jar in the shape of an elephant. The trunk is the handle to remove the lid. It’s a real beauty, in excellent condition.”
“You’re a very generous, and kind, employer,” she said.
“Well, we didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up,” he said. “Before I made movies and a lot of money, I was a waiter at a restaurant and a doorman at a swanky hotel. I know what it’s like to live paycheck to paycheck. I like to give back to the people who work for me. I really do appreciate all their hard work.”
“I hope you don’t mind me talking to your staff.”
“Not at all,” he said. “I can tell you’re doing more than writing articles. You’re looking for answers.”
“Yes, I am,” she said. “I’d like to talk to Holt. I thought he came with you this morning.”
“He did, but I told him he could go to the gym,” he said. “There’s no point in the two of us sitting around, waiting for the car. I’ll let Sabrina know when it’s ready, and she’ll come back and drop off the loaner and give me a ride home.”
“What gym does Holt go to?”
“Core Sport Gym off of Route Seven.”
A woman came out of one of the glass-enclosed offices and walked over to them. “Mr. Dolan, your daughter’s car is ready,” she said. “Would you like to go over the work that was done?”
“Yes, but give me a moment,” he said.
“Of course,” she said.
As she walked away, Atlas turned to Molly. “Do you know why I came here this morning? It wasn’t just to help Sabrina. I could have had Holt drive her here. I did it to get away from Whitney for a little while. She was going on and on about Helen and Jasper and Brett’s death. I couldn’t take it anymore.” He sighed. “Actually, she’s been complaining a lot lately.”
“About what?”
“The cold winter she had to endure, the bugs of summer, and not having a Bergdorf Goodman department store close by. She says the social scene here is too provincial for her tastes.” He shook his head wearily. “I take her to New York or Boston every other month to make her happy. She misses living in a big city.”
“You didn’t always live here year-round,” she said. “How much time did you spend in your other house?”
“A few weeks a year,” he said. “I wanted to come here to give Katie something different. More of my time, and life in a slower, more rural setting.” Molly nodded. She understood what he was saying. He didn’t want Katie to turn into Sabrina, growing up without him, living a fast lifestyle. “I can’t believe I just told you all that,” he said. “You won’t use any of this in your article, will you?”
“Of course not,” she said. “As a matter of fact, I’ll be happy to share my article with you before it even goes to print.”
He looked relieved. “Thank you, Molly. I’m sorry if I sounded like I was accusing you of something.”
“I can only imagine what you’ve had to put up with over the years with media coverage,” she said.
“I don’t usually let my guard down. You’re very easy to talk to.”
“It’s sort of a gift I have,” she said.
He smiled. “Sort of? No way. I’d say it’s the real thing.”
Chapter 13
Core Sport Gym was in South Burlington, not far from the Audi dealership. Molly drove there next, hoping to catch Holt before he left. When she inquired at the front desk, however, she was told she’d just missed him. She thought about going back to Atlas’s house to see if he’d gone home, but it was almost noon, and she was hungry. She called her mother instead.
“Hi, Ma. Are you free for lunch?”
“Yes, I am,” Clara said. “What time, and where?”
“How about the Sunshine Café? We haven’t been there in a while. I’m in my car. I can be there in about twenty minutes.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Clara said.
The Sunshine Café was on St. Paul Street. They specialized in homemade soups, salads, and sandwiches. Clara was already in a booth by the front window reading a menu when Molly arrived. She tossed her bag on the bench and scooted in behind it. “I’m starving,” she said, picking up a menu. “What looks good?”
“I’m going to have the sandwich special of the day,” Clara said. “It’s a Rueben on marbled rye with French fries and coleslaw.”
“Sounds good to me,” Molly said.
Clara waved down their waitress. “We’ll both have the Rueben special, and two iced teas with lemon.”
“No iced tea for me,” Molly said before the waitress could run off. “I’ll have a lemonade.”
The waitress went away, and Clara turned to Molly. “You’re not having tea?”
“I had iced tea at the Dolans’ house,” Molly said. “It was minty, like Grammy’s. I wanted something different. By the way, how is Grammy? I haven’t talked to her in a while.”
“You should call her more often,” Clara scolded.
“I do call, but most of the time she’s impossible to reach.”
“She joined a new ladies’ golf league, and she’s been playing bridge three times a week.”
“Well, that explains it,” Molly said.
Her grandmother had an active lifestyle at her senior-living condo in North Carolina. After Tyler was born, Molly had asked her if she’d like to move to Vermont to be with them, but her grandmother told her in no uncertain terms she had no intention of giving up her friends and activities in North Carolina. Molly thought the real reason she wouldn’t move was her aversion to living anywhere north of the Mason-Dixon Line.
“Were you able to see Atlas?” Clara asked.
“Yes, but in a roundabout way.” Molly told her about her meetings with Whitney, Helen, Iris, and Dominic at the Sandy Point house, and how she’d caught up to Atlas at the car dealership.
When she was finished, Clara said, “Having a door added to the second floor of their house is unusual.”
“You think so? I didn’t see it that way,” Molly said. “He told me Whitney’s paranoid about security.”
“Yes, dear, but he also said it goes directly from Holt’s apartment to the second floor, where I presume their bedroom is located.”
“Ma, what are you implying? Do you think Whitney and Holt are having an affair?”
“From what Helen and Dominic told you about him, I think Holt sounds like the kind of man who would have no qualms about seducing the boss’s wife. I’d keep this in mind when you do talk to him. Think about it, Molly. If he is involved with Whitney, he wouldn’t want that information getting out. And if Brett somehow found out . . .”
Molly stared at her. “You never cease to amaze me,” she said.
Clara smiled. “Why are you amazed? Where do you think you got your inquisitive nature from? I can tell
you, it wasn’t from your father.”
Her father, the man they never talked about. Molly would have loved to ask her mother about her father, but from past experience, she knew Clara would only change the subject. She had to be satisfied with the dribs and drabs of information she dropped every now and again.
Their waitress returned with their drinks. “Your lunch will be out shortly,” she said.
“Thank you,” Molly said, but the woman had already dashed off. “Everyone is in such a hurry.”
“I know, dear, it’s very tiresome,” Clara said.
Molly took a sip of her lemonade. “You know, you could be right. If Holt is having an affair with Whitney, Brett could have found out about it. He was spending a lot of time at the Dolans’ house, and Dominic told me Atlas’s museum room is on the second floor. What if he saw Holt and Whitney in a compromising position?”
“As a bodybuilder, he’d also be strong enough to make Brett’s death look like an accident,” Clara said. “Yet another reason to be careful when you talk to him.”
“You know who I have to talk to again? Iris. I feel so stupid asking her questions in front of Helen. Of course she didn’t want to talk to me. She works under her. I didn’t even get to ask her about the pawn piece in the cookie jar.”
“I know you’re curious about her, because of the cookie jar and board game connection, but do you really think she could have killed Brett?”
“It’s hard to see how she could do it on her own,” Molly said. “And I have no idea what her motive would have been. If anything, she should have been appreciative to Brett for standing up for her to Holt.”
“Unless she didn’t appreciate it,” Clara said. “Perhaps she’s still in love with Holt, and she resented Brett’s interference.”
“Perhaps, but more likely, I could see someone like Holt, who sounds hot-tempered, going after Brett. He could have been angry that he showed him up. Or, if you’re right about the affair, he killed him to silence him.”
They ceased talking as the waitress returned with their lunches. “Give me a holler if you need anything else,” she said before walking away.
Clara picked up a bottle of ketchup that was on the table and squeezed some onto her plate. Then she handed the bottle to Molly, who did the same. She dipped a French fry in the ketchup and ate it.
Molly took a bite of her sandwich. “This is good,” she said, sipping her lemonade. “I want to talk to the Dolans’ nanny, too. She must spend a lot of time at the house taking care of Katie. Maybe she’s seen something, or knows something.”
“There’s a Lawrence Blair with a booth at the Treasure Trove,” Clara said. “The shop is called Blair’s Flair, and sometimes his wife, Bonnie, comes in to help. It could be the same woman.”
“Do you know Bonnie?”
“Just to say hello to,” Clara said. “I know Lawrence better, since he’s in almost every day. They moved to Vermont after he retired from the military. He told me it was his dream to own his own shop. He did tell me his wife has a background in childcare, but neither of them ever said a word about her working for Atlas and Whitney.” She reached into her purse and took out her phone. “I’ll text Sean to see if either of them is in today.” She sent the text, and a moment later Sean replied. “He says Lawrence is at an estate sale in Brattleboro, but Bonnie is there manning the shop.”
“It’s her day off from watching Katie,” Molly said. “As soon as we’re done eating, I’m going back to the Treasure Trove with you.”
• • •
Blair’s Flair had a small selection of antique furniture and a lot of artwork, books, mid-century records, and collectibles. Molly saw a woman behind the counter on her cell phone and nodded to her. She was middle-aged, with gray hair cropped close to her head. She lifted a finger to let Molly know she would be with her in a minute. Molly took the time to stroll among the tables and stopped when she reached a rack of vintage clothing, as her eye had landed on a yellow floral print dress she thought would look perfect for a night out with Matt. As she took the hanger off the rack, the woman finished her call and came over.
“You have excellent taste,” she said. “That’s a classic seventies Geoffrey Beene shirt dress. Note the buttons down the front, and the lovely geometric black-dot pattern with the contrasting floral print on the belt, cuffs, and side slits.” She eyed Molly from the top of her head to her toes. “I believe it would fit you perfectly. Would you like to try it on? We have a dressing room behind the curtain.”
“I don’t see a price tag,” Molly said. “How much are you asking?”
The woman looked at the garment, but she couldn’t find one either. “Let me check the book,” she said. She went back to the counter and reached under it for a notebook. Molly didn’t see a computer. They were old-school at Blair’s Flair. She flipped through the pages. “Here it is,” she said. “The price is two hundred fifty dollars.”
Molly whistled low. “Sorry, but that’s a bit steep for me,” she said, putting the dress back on the rack. “I’m Molly Appleby, by the way. Are you Bonnie Blair?”
“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, I had no idea you were Clara’s daughter. I’ve seen your grandson here a few times. Tyler is adorable.”
“Thank you,” Molly said. “I heard you work for Atlas and Whitney Dolan. I was at the house this morning. Helen told me.”
“Oh, I see,” Bonnie said. “I was wondering how you found that out. I don’t go around telling people. The Dolans value their privacy. Why were you there?”
“I’m a reporter for Collector’s Weekly. I was covering Atlas’s auction the other day at Laurel Wreath. Also, Brett Hamilton was a friend of mine. I assume you’ve heard about what happened.”
“Yes, of course, I was at the house yesterday when Holt brought Helen back from the hospital. When I asked her how she was doing, she started to cry. I hope she’s feeling a little better today, but it’s a horrible thing for her to go through, between his death and her ex-husband on the run. Have the police located him yet?”
“I don’t know,” Molly said. “Did you know Brett?”
“A little,” Bonnie said. “My husband, Lawrence, and I enjoyed visiting his shop. We actually had a quick conversation with him about two weeks ago. He was so excited about the upcoming auction. He said if everything went well, he was going to try to sign up other celebrity clients.”
A man making plans to expand his business model didn’t sound like a man who had suicide on his mind, Molly thought. “Did you attend the auction?”
“No, I would have loved to, but I had to work,” Bonnie said. “I did hear about it later from Iris, the Dolans’ housekeeper. She told me almost everything sold.”
“Speaking of Iris, do you know anything about her cookie jar collection?”
“I didn’t even know she had one until Atlas bought her a jar for her birthday,” Bonnie said. “When we talked about it later, she told me she got her first cookie jar as a birthday present from a woman she used to work for. They’re very close.”
“Do you know her name?”
“Olga Saunders,” Bonnie said. “Atlas bought her house, only to tear it down and build the new one. Iris said Olga was quite upset about it. She used to live with her, too.”
“Did you know Iris had been seeing Holt?”
Bonnie wrinkled her nose as if she’d caught a foul scent. “I found out after the fact,” she said. “If I’d known Holt was pursuing her, I would have put a stop to it.”
“Dominic, the chef, told me he has no scruples.”
“He’s right. I think that man would sell his own mother down a river if he thought he’d benefit from it somehow. He’s an opportunist if ever I saw one.”
“Has he ever taken advantage of Whitney?”
Bonnie stared at her. “What have you heard?”
Molly was amazed. Maybe her mother was right about them having an affair. “I heard some rumors that they were, ah, close, and then Atlas told me how Whitney insisted they add
an extra door from Holt’s apartment to the second floor, and I thought maybe there was something going on between them.” Molly felt like she was dancing around the edges. With nothing to lose, she decided to go for it. “Is that door near their bedroom?”
“It’s steps away from Whitney’s bedroom,” Bonnie said. “They have separate rooms. She says Atlas snores. But I’ve never, ever seen Holt going into that room.”
“Do you believe Whitney’s paranoid about security?”
“I believe she is, but I don’t understand it,” Bonnie said. “I might if we were in Los Angeles, but this is Vermont, their property is gated, and they have a state-of-the-art security system. I’ve never understood the need to have a live-in security guard. The last crime reported in the Sandy Point neighborhood was two years ago, during the winter, when a resident left their garage door open and someone helped themselves to their skis. We’re not talking high crime.”
“Is the nursery located near Whitney’s room?”
“It’s down the hall,” Bonnie said.
“And the museum room, with Atlas’s collections?”
“It’s next to the nursery.”
Molly realized if Brett was working in the museum room on the second floor, he could have seen Holt sneaking into Whitney’s bedroom.
Bonnie said, “If you really do want the dress, I’ll drop the price to one hundred dollars.”
She was done talking about Whitney, Molly thought. She was a loyal employee, not a gossip. Molly took the dress back off the rack and looked it over again. She wasn’t a fashionista like her mother, but she had spent her whole life around Clara, and she’d learned about quality clothing. She would go out to dinner in this dress with Matt, and she’d take her vintage Chanel purse with her. The diaper bag would stay home.
“I’ll take it,” she said.
Chapter 14
On her drive home from the Treasure Trove, Molly saw a gas station ahead and turned in. She pumped gas into her car, and after the pump clicked off and she’d paid, moved her car into a parking space in front of the station’s convenience store. She tried searching the White Pages on her phone for Iris’s home address, but after ten minutes of searching, she still hadn’t found it. Giving up, she called Lombardi.