by Ellery Adams
“Hi, Molly,” he said. “We haven’t found Jasper yet.”
“I would like to know when you catch him, but that’s not the reason I’m calling,” she said. “I was hoping you could give me Iris Jefferson’s address. I can’t find it anywhere.”
“Why do you need her address?”
“I thought I’d drop by her house sometime. I tried to talk to her this morning at the Dolans’, but Helen was there, and I don’t think she felt comfortable talking in front of her.”
“All right, I’ll get it for you, but I’ll have to call you back. Give me ten minutes.”
“I’ll wait,” Molly said. As she waited, she went into the convenience store and bought an iced coffee and a chocolate glazed donut. She had just finished eating the donut when Lombardi called her back.
“I’ve got her address,” he said, and read it to her.
Molly typed it into her phone. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“I’d like to remind you that until I hear back from the medical examiner on the official cause of Brett’s death, it’s still being treated as a suicide.”
“I understand,” she said.
“Do you? Because if it’s ruled a homicide, everything changes. I need you to be careful about what you do out at Iris’s house.”
Molly knew this was his way of warning her off from doing something illegal or anything that might jeopardize a future investigation. “I’m not going to break into her house, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said. “I just want to talk to her in private.”
“Good,” he said. “We’ll catch up later.”
Molly typed Iris’s address into her map app and saw that she lived seven miles from Laurel Wreath and Brett’s house. She wasn’t sure what time she got off work, and she didn’t want to call Helen to ask her. She’d get up early in the morning and try to catch Iris before she left for work.
When she got home, she found Starling in the kitchen unpacking grocery bags. “I’m making dinner tonight,” she said.
“Cooking isn’t in your job description,” Molly said, putting the shopping bag from Blair’s Flair on the table.
“I know it’s not, but I wanted to make you my mother’s chicken and rice recipe. Is it okay? I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“I don’t mind, as long as it’s something you want to do. And you give me the recipe.”
“I’ll write it down for you later,” Starling said. “What did you buy?”
“A vintage Geoffrey Beene dress,” Molly said. She took it out of the bag and held it up.
“I love it,” Starling said. “Is it for a special occasion?”
“I’m going to surprise Matt and take him to Lotus Flower, that new Thai restaurant that opened.”
“If you want to go tonight, I can make the chicken and rice another time.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Just let me know before five o’clock.”
“How long does the chicken need to cook?”
“An hour,” Starling said.
Inwardly, Molly cringed. She didn’t like having the oven on for such a long time in the middle of summer. It heated the house, which made the air-conditioning work overtime. But she wasn’t going to say anything, since Starling wanted to treat them to a nice meal.
Tyler was in his high chair and held out his arms to Molly. She put the dress back in the bag, and as she walked over to him almost tripped over the cats, who were circling his chair. She lifted Tyler up and kissed him. “Are you sharing crackers with Merlin and Griffin again?” Tyler giggled and the cats looked up at Molly. They knew what crackers were. “I’m surprised you two haven’t turned into little blimps since Tyler starting tossing food around.”
Starling said, “At least the cats vacuum it all up. I haven’t had to get the dustpan out.”
Molly sat at the table with Tyler on her lap, smothering him in more kisses, which only made him giggle more.
Starling pulled up a chair and sat down. “So, what’s the latest? Did you get in to see Atlas?”
“I talked to Whitney, and Iris, Dominic, the family chef, and Bonnie, the nanny. Helen was at the house, too. She’s worried about Jasper going back to prison, which seems strange to me, given what he did to her. I almost think she’s more upset about him being caught than the fact that Brett is dead.”
“Maybe she’s still in shock. It must have been horrible finding him.”
“Perhaps. But that reminds me, she told Lombardi that when she got to Brett’s, his phone was plugged in and charging. Now, why would a man who was going to kill himself bother to charge his phone?”
“I can’t think of a good reason,” Starling said.
“Neither can I,” Molly said. “It makes me more convinced than ever that he was murdered. I hope the forensics lab can match the rope Jasper used on Helen to the rope that was used to hang him.”
“You want it to be Jasper.”
“Yes, because the alternative is someone who actually knew Brett, which is much worse.”
“Did you talk to Atlas?”
“I caught up to him at Baxter Audi,” Molly said. “He got personal and told me about his relationship with Sabrina and Whitney. Sabrina’s been in and out of trouble since she was young, blaming him for most of her woes. But he said she’s turned her life around since she started working at Laurel Wreath. He’s worried she’s going to fall back into her old habits. He also told me Whitney isn’t happy living here, and she’s paranoid about their safety, which is why Holt, the bodyguard, is living with them. And she had him put in a door from his garage apartment to the second floor of their house. Bonnie told me it’s right near Whitney’s bedroom.”
Starling’s eyebrows rose. “You think there’s something going on between her and the bodyguard?”
“It’s possible,” Molly said. “Bonnie also told me that the room where Atlas keeps all of his collections is on the second floor. This is the same room where Brett was spending time organizing the auction.”
“So he might have seen something.”
“Again, it’s a possibility. Bonnie says she’s never seen anything going on between Whitney and Holt, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. And if Brett did witness something, it would be a motivating factor to shut him up. I’m sure the last thing Whitney wants is for it to come out.”
“What did Iris have to say about the cookie jar and the pawn?”
“Not much. Unfortunately, Helen was sitting there, and that made her nervous. I’m going to pay her a visit at home tomorrow morning, before she leaves for work, so I can talk to her alone.”
“Good idea,” Starling said. “Um, I was thinking, I’ve got plenty of food for four people. If you don’t go out to dinner tonight, I thought you might want to ask Lombardi over. You probably want to give him an update, right?”
Molly looked at her. “You know, I saw you spending a lot of time with him at our Fourth of July party,” she said. “Are you falling for him?”
Starling smiled. “I like talking to him. He has such an interesting job. And he’s hot.”
“He’s ten years older than you.”
“So what?”
“I tried to set him up with Jazzy. I know he likes her, but he won’t ask her out. You know why? Because he can’t commit to anything long-term, and he thinks she’ll end up resenting him when he breaks up with her, and then he’ll have to find another coffee shop. This is how his mind works. Honestly, you don’t want any part of it.”
“Maybe he’s acting this way because he hasn’t met the right person.”
“That’s what every woman thinks when she meets a challenge like Lombardi.”
“So, I guess that means you’re not going to invite him to dinner?”
“Not tonight,” Molly said. “Some other time. Okay?”
“Okay,” Starling said.
Molly knew she’d disappointed her, but in truth, she needed time to digest the idea of Starling and Lombardi being a couple. In
truth, she actually thought it might work. He needed someone he could talk to about his work, and Starling, who liked mysteries and had a curious mind, would be a good fit. Jazzy was a smart, talented, and beautiful woman, but she baked cakes and pastries, and made excellent coffee. She liked to surround herself with sweetness and light. She didn’t like the dark side of Lombardi’s life.
Molly put Tyler back in his high chair. “Can you watch him a little longer? I have to call my boss, and I think I will make a reservation at Lotus Flower for tonight.”
“Sure, no problem,” Starling said.
Molly went into her office and shut the door. She didn’t like talking to Carl Swanson at any time of the day, but she couldn’t put it off any longer. He was her boss, and he needed to know about Brett.
He answered the phone with his customary gruff greeting of, “What?”
“It’s Molly,” she said.
Before he could say anything else, Swanson, a chain-smoker, proceeded to have a coughing fit. Molly held the phone out from her ear and leaned back in her chair to wait it out. When he could finally breathe again, he said, “Where’s the piece on the Dolan auction?”
“I haven’t started it yet, and before you start yelling, let me explain why.”
She gave him a concise rundown on everything, and when she was done, he said, “Okay, good, I like it.”
“This is good? Brett is dead,” she said.
“You know what I mean,” he said. “Your articles about murder are always a huge hit with the readers. And from what you’ve told me, I agree with you, he was murdered. Brett was at the top of his game. Why on earth would he throw it all away? I want you to work the stolen cookie jar angle. I’ve been getting a lot of emails lately from readers who say we’re not giving enough attention to collectibles. Get me something by Wednesday next week.”
“All right, I’ll get right on it—”
A dial tone sounded in her ear. Swanson was done talking.
Chapter 15
“You look beautiful,” Matt said.
They were sitting in a quiet corner at Lotus Flower. Molly felt lucky to get a reservation at the popular Thai restaurant. It was upscale and romantic, with candlelight and fresh flowers in tiny bud vases, and polished silverware and fine crystal on the tables.
“We need to go out more often,” Molly said. “It’s fun to get dressed up.”
She thought her mother would be proud of her. She was wearing her new dress with strappy sandals, and had used a curling iron on her hair to give it a little lift. She’d even applied makeup. Mascara on her long eyelashes, a little blush to her cheeks, and a luscious red lipstick.
“It’s also nice to have a little time to ourselves,” he said.
Molly smiled. “You look very handsome in your suit and tie.”
“I feel a little too dressed up.”
“You look perfect,” she said. “This is a fine dining experience.”
“It’s more crowded than I thought it would be on a Wednesday night,” he said. “Almost every table is filled.”
“I love the low lighting and the gentle music. I feel like I’m in a spa.”
“Me too,” he said. “It’s soothing after a long day at work.” He picked up his menu. “I suppose we should figure out what we want to eat before our waiter returns. Do you want some wine?”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “I didn’t perform surgery, but I did talk to a lot of people today, and I need to relax.”
“Does that mean you don’t want to discuss your day?”
“No, I want to tell you all about it,” she said.
“Okay. We’ll talk after we order.”
The waiter appeared the minute they set their menus down on the table. They ordered shrimp and lobster spring rolls and Thai-style ravioli with shrimp and pork for appetizers. For their main dish, Molly ordered the honey pork marinated in garlic oil with tomatoes, pineapple, and vegetables, and Matt decided to try the sautéed roasted duck in sweet Tamarind sauce. Their waiter recommended a Riesling, and they ordered two glasses. Neither of them were big drinkers. A bottle would have gone to waste.
When they had their wine and appetizers set before them, Molly told Matt about her day, ending with her purchase of the dress at Blair’s Flair and her conversation with Bonnie.
“She hasn’t seen anything to make her think Whitney and Holt are having an affair,” she said, “but I can’t get over the second-floor door and the easy access to Whitney’s bedroom. I keep imagining Brett working in Atlas’s museum room one day, stepping out into the hallway, and seeing Holt slipping into Whitney’s room. What if, after he had that argument with Holt at the shop about Iris, he confronted him again later, and told him what he’d seen? He might have threatened to tell Atlas unless Holt did right by Iris and apologized.”
“You haven’t even met Holt yet,” he said. “I don’t think it’s fair to assume the worst in him.”
“Why not? No one I’ve talked to has anything nice to say about him.”
“Still, you’re prejudging the man. Not to mention accusing him of murder, which is a big leap from having an argument with Brett.”
“You’re right.” Molly sipped her wine. “I should at least meet Holt before I make him into a monster,” she said. “Tell me about your day.”
Over dinner, they talked about Matt’s work and the two surgeries he’d assisted on. When they were done eating, Matt looked at her clean plate and smiled.
“You enjoyed your meal,” he said.
“It was really good,” she said. “How was your duck?”
“Delicious. Lotus Flower should definitely go on our favorite restaurants list.”
“We’ll have to come back with Mom and Sean. Did you know Sean has been to Thailand?”
“No, but he’s so well-traveled, I would have been surprised if you’d said he hadn’t been there.”
Their waiter returned and asked if they would like dessert.
“I think I’ll pass,” Molly said.
Matt looked surprised. “We’ll take the check,” he said. When the waiter departed, he looked at her. “Are you all right? You never pass on dessert.”
“It’s almost nine o’clock,” she said. “I’m trying not to overindulge. I’m still trying to lose the baby weight.” She stopped talking as she watched the hostess escort a couple to a table in a dark corner.
“Molly? What’s wrong?”
She lowered her voice. “Don’t turn around, but Sabrina and Julian are here.”
“Is that a problem?”
“I think it’s a little odd.”
“Why? I thought Sabrina told you she was going to have him over to her house last night, because he was upset about Brett’s death.”
“Yes, but that was last night, and this is now. Why are they getting together again?”
Matt leaned toward her. “Maybe they’re trying to figure out what they’re going to do now that Laurel Wreath is closed.” He smiled. “You should see the look on your face. You have to stop thinking everyone is guilty of something.”
“If they’re dating, it gives them a motive to work together to kill Brett.”
“How so?”
“Sabrina because she felt betrayed, and Julian because he felt underappreciated.”
“What are they doing? Are they holding hands or looking into each other’s eyes?”
Molly squinted. It was hard to see them in the low light. “I don’t think so,” she said. “But they just got here.”
“Do you want me to tell the waiter we’ve changed our minds about dessert so we can linger and spy on them? Or maybe we should stop by their table on the way out. Let them know you’re onto them, if you’re that sure they’re a couple.”
“I’m not sure of anything, and I don’t want them to know I saw them,” she said. “We need to pay and get out of here.”
Matt took his wallet out. “Has it occurred to you that they might have already seen you?”
“I don’t think they hav
e,” she said. “They haven’t looked over here. They’re not smiling either. They look like they’re having a serious discussion.”
“Like I said, they’re probably talking about their future plans, and Brett’s death, which has to be weighing on them.”
“Or they’re on a date at a romantic restaurant. If they’re just friends, why didn’t they go somewhere more casual?”
“Maybe they came here for the same reason we did,” he said. “It’s new and they wanted to try it.”
Matt stopped talking as the waiter approached. He had a handheld credit card reader and processed the transaction at the table. Molly waited for Matt to stand up first, then stayed by his side as they walked to the door, keeping out of sight of Sabrina and Julian.
Chapter 16
Molly got up early Thursday morning, and by six thirty was in her car on her way to Iris’s house. The driveway went into a dense forest, and the road was so rutted it sorely tested the Audi’s superior shock system, which Molly wasn’t pleased about. With the sunlight blocked by the trees, she felt like she was in a tunnel, but at the end of the driveway was a clearing and the sunlight returned. Iris’s car was parked in front of the only building on the property, a very small house, no more than four hundred square feet. Iris lived in a tiny house.
Molly got out of her car and, standing in the middle of the woods, was struck by how quiet it was. She didn’t see any signs of electrical hookups to the house, but there was a propane tank and a water tank connected to it. She wondered what could have inspired a young woman like Iris to live somewhere so remote. Was it peace she was looking for? Or isolation?
Walking up to the front door, she saw the windows on either side were cracked open, but the curtains were drawn, and she couldn’t see inside. Before she could knock, Iris opened the door.
“What are you doing here?” She was dressed in her work uniform of black slacks and a white shirt, and from the puzzled look on her face was clearly surprised to see her.