The Chocolate Jewel Case: A Chocoholic Mystery

by JoAnna Carl

  “But Mr. Gold said they didn’t. And they were much too large for his feet.”

  “Another mystery! Listen, I’ll call you back if I think of anything.”

  We hung up, and I sat there idly wondering about the flip-flops. When Mercy’s kitchen telephone rang I jumped. It was Joe.

  “Listen, Lee,” he said, “Underwood doesn’t want us to move back into the house until he figures out who tried to kill you last night.”

  “Oh, gee! That’s going to be real inconvenient.”

  “Yeah, but he’s right. It’s a lot safer. Mom will take us in.”

  “Have you asked your mom how she feels about this?”

  “I called to warn her, and she said she was okay with it. Of course, we can’t stay away from the house entirely.”

  “I hope not! I’m itching to get out there and get some clean clothes.”

  “Underwood says it’s okay to go out there now. The crime scene team is just about to leave, and he’s got a Warner Pier patrol car keeping an eye on things. Can you get a ride with the girls?”

  “I’m sure I can. Aren’t you coming? You need clean clothes, too.”

  “Maybe later.”

  I was catching a hint of excitement—or was it worry?—in his voice. “Joe, is something wrong?”

  “I hope not.” He took a deep breath. “It’s Pete. He never has shown up. And now some farmer has called in and says a green SUV is in a ditch about five miles east of Warner Pier. Underwood’s sending a car to check it out.”

  “You’d better stick with the state police, Joe. See what’s going on.”

  “I’ll call when I find anything out.”

  I arranged to pick up Darrell; then Brenda drove us all home. As warned, a Warner Pier patrol car was sitting in our drive. Plus, the mobile crime lab was still parked at the Baileys’ house, and we could see glimpses of activity over there.

  I was so curious I walked over to the Baileys’ instead of going into my own house. The crime scene investigators, of course, waved me off, so I stood thirty feet away from the cement carport where I’d been parking and called to them.

  “Have you found any sign that the bad guys waited for me over there?”

  “Detective Sergeant Underwood will get a report.”

  So they weren’t going to tell me anything. I watched them for a few minutes. One technician made a cast of something on the ground. Footprints or tire tracks? Another was looking through all the items under the carport. She had even taken everything out of the plastic bushel basket where Charlie Bailey kept the stuff he used when working in the yard. A foam rubber kneeler, a trowel, a pair of pruning shears, two nozzles for the garden hose, and a reel of plastic line for the weed whacker were all laid out neatly on the concrete floor. As I watched, the technician turned the basket upside down. Several sponges fell out.

  I turned around and walked back to our house, frowning. Something about that basket bothered me. I didn’t figure out what it was until I got home.

  When I walked up onto the porch, a pair of black flip-flops were beside our front door.

  That was what had been missing from the basket!

  What were those flip-flops doing on our porch?

  I realized that they were the shoes I’d worn back from Double Diamond at midnight the night before. I’d kicked them off on the porch before I went inside.

  Dumb, dumb, dumb. I’d seen those black flip-flops sticking out of the top of that plastic garden basket every time I’d parked my van in the Baileys’ carport. But when they disappeared, I hadn’t missed them. When they reappeared—at Double Diamond—it had never occurred to me that they were the same shoes. Desperate for footwear, I’d simply put them on and worn them.

  Now the question was, how did they get from the Baileys’ house to Double Diamond?

  And that wasn’t hard to answer.

  I went over to the Warner Pier patrol car and told our guard that I needed to walk over to the neighbor’s house for a moment. The patrolman—a college student working for the summer—looked doubtful.

  “You can come along,” I said. “I want to be as cooperative as possible.”

  The student, who wore a name tag saying, SWARTZMAN, made a big deal out of calling in to say where we were going. Then he drove me down our road across Lake Shore Drive, and up to Double Diamond. He stopped outside the cottage.

  He didn’t accompany me to the door. I knocked and called out, “Mr. Gold!” After a bit of scurrying inside, Uncle Alex came to the door.

  “Mr. Gold,” I said, “I need to talk to Gina.”

  He batted his eyes innocently. “Gina? Gina who?”

  “Gina Woodyard, my husband’s aunt.”

  “Why would she be here, Mrs. Woodyard?”

  “I’m not sure she is, now. But please don’t tell me she wasn’t here at one time.”

  He dropped his eyes and shuffled his feet. And I heard a giggle behind him.

  “Oh, Lee, you found my hideout!”

  Mr. Gold opened the door wider, and I saw Gina behind him.

  Chapter 19

  I was so glad to see Gina alive and whole that I resisted the temptation to wring her neck. I hugged it instead.

  I then stood back and noted that she was wearing her pink high heels, the ones whose tracks I had followed down the drive.

  “Gina, we’ve been so worried!”

  “I’m sorry, hon. But I did call and say I was all right.”

  “That was before the murder!”

  “Murder? What murder?”

  For the first time I realized that Gina had no way of knowing that Joe and I thought her ex-husband was a murder victim. The Grand Rapids television and newspapers had mentioned that a body had been found in Lake Michigan and foul play was suspected, but no announcement had been made of my identification of the man as one who had claimed to be my husband’s father. And no one had mentioned his bunion, the physical feature that he shared with one of the burglars. In fact, if any reporter had speculated about a connection between the robbery at Double Diamond and the dead man, I hadn’t seen the report.

  Gina was frowning. “Was there a murder?” she said.

  “Gina, do you have a photo of your ex-husband?”

  She smiled ruefully. “Which one?”

  “Art. Art Atkins.”

  “I might. I haven’t cleaned out my wallet in a year. Why would you want to see a picture of him?”

  “I’d like to see the picture before I explain.”

  She looked concerned, but went upstairs to get her purse without asking any more questions. As soon as she was gone, Alex Gold quizzed me about how I had figured out where Gina was. I explained about the shoes.

  “I couldn’t see how they’d gotten to Double Diamond unless Gina wore them over here,” I said.

  Alex Gold seemed quite proud of himself for giving her refuge. “Gina is a wonderful person,” he said. “Of course, I’ve known her casually for years. But having a chance to become well acquainted with her has been a privilege.”

  I tried not to smile. Gina had made another conquest. Whatever “it” is, Gina definitely had it.

  Gina came down with a big tote bag embellished with a sequined parrot. I felt like an idiot; I’d hadn’t realized she’d taken her handbag when she ran away.

  She pulled out a red leather wallet stuffed with papers. Then she sat down on the couch and began to pull things out. “Oh, I wondered where that receipt was. And here’s my AARP card. And this picture—oh, it’s my neighbor’s son’s graduation photo.” She stacked money, scraps of paper, photos, membership cards, and credit cards on the couch in teetering piles, daring them to slip between the cushions. Finally, she triumphantly held up a small photo. “I knew I had one!”

  She handed it over. Originally it had been a larger snapshot, and it had been cut down to fit into the wallet. It was creased and scarred, and it showed Gina sitting next to a handsome man in a restaurant or bar. I looked at it carefully.

  The man was the s
ame one who had come to the door and claimed to be Joe’s dad, the man whose body was now in the county morgue.

  “Gina, I have some bad news.” I had no idea how she’d react to learning about Art Atkins’s death.

  She had seen the news coming. “Art is the dead man we heard about on television,” she said.

  “I’m sorry. I know you two had split, but once upon a time you must have cared deeply for him.”

  Tears were welling in Gina’s eyes. “Art ran with a bad crowd,” she said. “They wouldn’t let him get away.”

  Uncle Alex reached over and patted her hand. She smiled at him. “Thanks, Alex. I’ll be all right.”

  I tried to speak briskly. “You’ll have to go and identify the body, Gina. And I’m sure the state police will want a statement. But can you explain a few things to me first?”

  “I’ll try, Lee. What do you want to know?”

  I hardly knew where to start. “Just tell me about Art,” I said. “And why you came to our house to hide out. And what made you take off so suddenly.”

  Gina sighed deeply and clasped her hands in her lap. “I never thought I’d wind up married to a burglar!” she said. “But that’s what Art’s profession was. Cat burglar! And he used me—used me—to locate victims.”

  “How did you find out about Art’s . . . activities?”

  “I began to hear about these burglaries, and they were happening to people I knew. Or at least knew about.”

  She turned to Alex Gold. “Art was an antique finder, you know. At least, that’s what he told me. He never had a shop, though sometimes he’d help in mine, and he was very knowledgeable about the field. Mainly he cruised around, looking at estate sales and tag sales. He’d be gone a week or more, and when he came back, he’d have a panel truck full of tables, dishes—small items. We were careful to keep our businesses separate. If he had costume jewelry or china or something else I might be able to sell, I’d pay him for it. His prices were quite reasonable. I thought he was giving me preferential treatment! Then I got a flyer from the Michigan Antique Dealers. They described a tea service that had been stolen in Grosse Pointe. I nearly fainted. I had it in the shop at that moment, and Art had brought it to me.

  “Then I thought back, and I realized that a lot of the places that had been burglarized were places I’d visited or heard of, then had discussed with Art.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I’m not shy! As soon as Art came home, I confronted him! And he didn’t even deny it. He just laughed and said, ‘What you didn’t know didn’t hurt you.’ I was furious.”

  I reached for Gina’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Gina.”

  “I told him our marriage was over. I said he’d have to get out.”

  “How did he react?”

  “Oh, with sweet talk. He promised to reform, to keep his business legitimate. That time.”

  “That time?”

  Gina smiled sadly. “Of course, he didn’t mean it. I found that out fast enough. A month later I found more questionable goods stashed in the back of his van.”

  “The white van with the orange sign on the door.”

  “Yes, that belonged to Art. Plus, he had a blue Ford pickup he used sometimes.” Gina sighed. “I rummaged around and discovered that he had three sets of magnetic signs for that van! And he had extra license plates for it, too! Then I found a driver’s license with Art’s picture, but Andy’s name and birth date!”

  I nodded. “He’d raided the family records.”

  “I see now that I’d almost encouraged him to do it. I’d told him all about Andy being drowned, and, well, I think he pumped Mama. He was really nice to her, took her out to lunch, things like that. Mama had always said Art had the Atkins mouth. He was a third cousin, you know. But it never occurred to me that he’d steal Andy’s identity!

  “When I found that driver’s license, I told Art it was all over. For good. That was two months ago.”

  “Did he leave your house?”

  “Yes. Not that he’d been there much anyway. But he packed his stuff up—including the things I thought were stolen—and moved out. I knew I should go to the police, but somehow I couldn’t. I filed for divorce. I thought that was the end of it.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Some . . . well, I can only call them thugs . . . These two thugs showed up looking for Art. They came right in the house, looked all around. I was scared to death.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “I threatened to do that. That’s when the party got rough.”

  Alex Gold seemed to turn pale. “Oh, Gina! They didn’t use force!”

  “Actually, no. That was what was so frightening. They didn’t yell or threaten me. They spoke very softly, but they made it clear that if I called the police, they’d kill me. I’m not sure what words they used, but they got their meaning across. And after they could see I was scared enough to obey them, then they threatened Art.”

  “And you didn’t want to see him hurt.”

  “No!” Gina pulled a handkerchief from the pile of things she’d unloaded from her purse. “I still had some feelings for him.”

  “Of course you did, Gina.”

  “They didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t know where Art had gone. They ended up by telling me I’d better find Art and tell him to contact Haney or we’d both be in a lot of trouble.”

  “Haney! Who is Haney?”

  “I didn’t know. I still don’t know!”

  “Had Art ever mentioned anyone named Haney?”

  “Never. Honey, I was scared to death.”

  “Is that when you came over here?”

  “No, first I wrote Art.”

  “I thought you didn’t know where he was.”

  “I didn’t. All I had was a Detroit box number. But I never got an answer. Then the two thugs came back. They threatened me again.”

  “Gina, you were really up a creek!”

  “Yes, and not one paddle to help me out. All I could think to do was run away.”

  “So you came over here.”

  “As near as I could tell, the two thugs weren’t watching me. So I drove over to Holland by a route so odd that I thought I would notice if someone was following me. I put the car in a garage and paid to leave it for a while. Then I took a cab to the Chevy dealership and called Joe. Bless his heart! He came right over and picked me up.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us all of this, Gina?”

  “I didn’t want to get you involved.”

  I resisted the temptation to growl at her. She hid out in our house, but didn’t want to get us involved. That made a terrific amount of sense.

  Gina was speaking again. “Then you and Joe witnessed the robbery here at the Double Diamond cottage. And the next day I heard you telling Joe one of the robbers had worn jazz shoes!”

  “Had Art worn shoes like that?”

  “He hadn’t worn them, but I’d seen an odd pair of shoes in his truck. I didn’t know what they were. But when I heard you describe them to Joe, I knew that was what I’d seen.” She leaned forward. “I nearly choked! You called to me to see if I was all right.”

  I nodded. “I remember. So you thought Art must have been involved in the robbery.”

  “Yes! And he did have a bunion. So I started trying to find him.”

  “You called all the motels in Holland.”

  “Did you hear me? I waited until you were in the shower.”

  “There are no secrets in that house, Gina. I overheard one of your calls. Did you find Art?”

  “Yes! I mean, no! It was awful, Lee! Art was registered at one of the motels—as Andy Woodyard! When I asked to be connected to his room, one of those thugs answered! So I ran!”

  “But, Gina, the thug couldn’t have known where you were just from a phone call.”

  “But he did, Lee! As soon as he heard my voice, he began to laugh. It was a horrible sort of giggle. And he called me by name. ‘Well, Ms. Gina,’ he said. ‘
So you didn’t know where Art was, huh? We’ll be out to your nephew’s house to get you next!’ ”

  She took a deep breath. “It was all I could do to answer him.”

  “He didn’t come to the house looking for you. What on earth did you say to head him off?”

  “I said, ‘Oh, I’ll be gone by the time you’re here.’ And I grabbed my purse and ran. I had an awful bad moment when I heard that little blond dog. I didn’t want to run into one of the neighbors! But I hid behind the Baileys’ house, and that fellow Harold didn’t stop to see what the dog was barking at.”

  She looked at Alex Gold with melting eyes. “You had said that Alex was at Double Diamond, so I ran straight to him. And he saved me.”

  Alex Gold looked back with a gaze as melting as Gina’s. He was obviously completely smitten.

  Dyed hair, gaudy clothes and all—the woman was amazing.

  Shaking my head, I went to the door and summoned the young patrolman. I introduced him to the missing aunt and told him she could identify the dead man. I added that she needed protection even more than I did. We waited at Double Diamond until he could call in and explain the situation to Underwood. Then we stayed until Underwood could send a patrol car to pick up Gina.

  While we were waiting, I kept the phone busy. I called our house and told the girls what was going on. I instructed them to explain things to Darrell. I tried Joe’s cell. It was turned off. I called the Warner Pier PD to try to find out about Pete’s car. The department secretary answered and said she didn’t know anything.

  There was a lot going on.

  As soon as a state police car arrived and took Gina away, I went back to our house with the Warner Pier patrolman trailing along. I packed a bag for me and one for Joe, then checked the refrigerator, loading up the milk, lettuce, and lunch meat to take to Mercy’s house. The temporary move was turning into a big mess. Even the thought of living in air-conditioning for a few days wasn’t enticing. I wanted to be in my own place.

  Darrell drove off in his truck with his belongings in the camper, something like a tortoise carrying his home along. He told me he was headed for Joe’s boat shop. The girls were dawdling, of course, but I hollered up the stairs, urging them to finish up. I planned to take my own van this trip, but we’d help the patrolman if we were all ready to go at the same time.