We finished dinner and turned our attention back to the wall of observation. I stood next to the giant Post-Its and tapped the notes and photos one at a time, giving Nick the necessary bullet points.
“Every suspicious thing we’ve come to see, hear, suspect, or learn is written up.” A thumbtack fell out of the wall at that moment, and a still shot of Cat’s office fluttered gently onto the table.
“Okay, so let’s see if I get this. This is Jim, the former owner, and he’s with Lela, one of Cat’s employees. And they seem to be having some sort of affair. Is he married?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, so that may or may not mean anything. Let’s move on. Who’s the punk girl?”
“Shana Brice. Cat’s assistant. She confessed two nights ago.”
“If she confessed, why are we talking about this?”
“Because she confessed to stealing the pearls, not the murder. She said she and Aguilar had been stealing all along but that George’s body was in the jewelry case when she got there.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Not sure. She said she and Aguilar conspired to steal the pearls. When Aguilar was found dead, Shana got scared and confessed.” I shook my head. “Why say anything at that point? If the goal all along was to steal the pearls, then she was in the clear. Why bring them back to the scene of the crime? Why go to such lengths to hide them once they’re there? And who killed Aguilar?”
“It’s almost like there were two different crimes committed that night,” Nick said. I looked at him. We stood facing each other for upwards of a minute. “What?” he finally asked.
“That would explain a lot. Assuming Shana was the thief, she looked…confused. She held a tire iron that I’m pretty sure she used to smash the case. So why would she strangle George?” I was excited by this new theory. My voice picked up and I thought through other details out loud. “She would have had to smash the case so it didn’t look like an inside job. It’s like My Cousin Vinny!”
“There were no metallic mint green convertibles. There were no cans of tuna. How is it like My Cousin Vinny?”
“There were two sets of people in the store. The first person killed George. I don’t know who, when, or why, but he strangled George and then left his body behind the jewelry case. The second person, Shana, was there to steal the pearls. She broke in and went to the case. She probably knew exactly which case to smash, so she did, but after the crash, she noticed the body. And when I yelled, she turned around and looked at me. She knew I saw her. Even though she was wearing a black mask, she might have thought I could identify her—and now it wouldn’t be in conjunction with a smash and grab, it would be with a murder.”
“So she took off. And after the fact, with an investigation in full swing, she tried to get the merchandise back to the store to eliminate the evidence.”
“She didn’t just try, she succeeded.”
Nick crossed his arms. “So it’s possible that Shana’s telling the truth that she committed the thefts but not the murder. Do you believe her?”
“Yes, well, no.”
“That’s clear.”
“Shana—and all of Cat’s staff—has access because they have keys. Jim has keys because he’s the former store owner and Cat never changed the locks. Aguilar had access to the mall master keys. What if…” I chewed my lip, wondering how crazy Nick was going to think I was when I said this next bit. “What if Shana wasn’t trying to hide the pearls in the ceiling? What if she was trying to return the pearls to the store and just didn’t have a chance to finish what she started? Like she gained entrance to the store through the ceiling?”
“Kidd, people don’t go crawling through ceilings.”
“River Phoenix did in Sneakers.”
He uncrossed his arms and put his hands on either side of my face, bent down, and kissed me.
“What was that for?” I asked.
“Sometimes with you, there are no words.”
I refilled our wine and we sat down next to each other facing the wall of observation. “Everything Shana said makes sense. It is entirely possible that she was only there to steal the pearls.”
“And her partner, Aguilar? Could he have done it?”
“He came into the store after the crash. So in the case of George’s death, I can’t get him there.”
“They could have killed him earlier.”
“True, but then why kill Aguilar? And then why confess at all? Which brings me to Jim. He had a way to get in and he seems awfully persistent about getting the store back. If it’s all about running a store, he could just open a different boutique and become one of Cat’s competitors.”
“You think there’s something about that particular store that he’s after.”
“Yep. I think we’re missing something about Catnip.”
30
TUESDAY NIGHT
“You mean, why is Cat’s store so valuable?” Nick asked.
“Yes. And is it the contents of the store or the location of the store?”
“So assume we’re missing something about the location. It stands to reason that it’s in one of these pictures. Tell me again how”—Nick paused for a fraction of a second—“Cat’s brother got these pictures?”
“Dante programmed computer tablets to take pictures every five minutes.”
“How many tablets?”
“Two.”
“That’s five hundred seventy six pictures a day.”
“How did you do that?” I demanded.
“What?”
“That math. Right there. Without a calculator.”
“Twenty four hours times sixty minutes an hour divided by five minute intervals times two.”
“Maybe I’m better at discounts.” I unlocked the tablet and handed it to Nick. “You can swipe through the images we didn’t print.”
“Where’s the other one?”
“Upstairs in the walk-in closet on the desk.”
He handed the tablet back to me. “I’ll be right back.”
I studied the pictures again while he was gone. He was right; there had to be something we were missing about Catnip and it had to be right in front of us. I stepped on a thumbtack, cursed, and stooped to pick it up. While I waited for Nick’s return I squeezed between the unoccupied chairs on the far side of the table. It was a tighter squeeze than when I tried to get between Cat’s desk and file cabinet in her office. I was going to have go back on the Logan half-portion diet for a while.
I stuck the thumbtack into the wall and noticed something we’d all missed. Between the early set of photos and the later ones, the file cabinet in Cat’s office had moved. Dante, Cat, Eddie, and I would never have noticed it. Our investigation had become so distracted by the players in the photos that it had never occurred to us to stop and look at the backdrop: Cat’s store and office. But once I did, it became obvious that the answer had been there all along.
Other than the location of George’s body, Cat’s office was the epicenter of the suspicious activity: The necklaces turning up. The location of the affair. Lela stealing something from Cat’s desk. Aguilar’s body.
When Nick returned to the kitchen, I told him what I discovered. “Cat’s office furniture was moved. Look.” I pointed to the file cabinet in one photo and then in another. “We have to go to the mall and find out why. We’ve got to see what’s really behind that file cabinet.”
“How are you going to get into the store? Do you have keys?”
“Yes, but I need to talk to Cat first.” I grabbed my phone before remembering it was dead.
Nick held his out to me. “Do you know the number?”
I pulled out my old phone and looked up the number in my contacts. I accessed the call log on Nick’s phone. The most recent call made was to “The Future Mrs. Taylor.” I snuck a peek at him to see if he was watching me. He was. He smiled like we shared a secret the rest of the world knew nothing about. I smiled back and felt warm and tingly all the way to my to
es.
Focus, Samantha.
I called Cat. “Sam? Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes and no and yes. I’m here with Nick and we figured something out. Did Detective Madden release the store to you yet?”
“Yes, but with the storm coming, the mall’s closed. Why?”
I looked at Nick. “Do you mind if we check on it? I still have your keys from the night Dante and I reset the store.” Nick crossed his arms and frowned slightly. “Okay, thanks.” I hung up. “We cleaned up after the police released the crime scene. You were in Italy with Amanda. I don’t want to hear a word.”
“What? I didn’t say anything. Let’s go.”
I changed into jeans and a turtleneck sweater, pulled on Moon Boots and a white puffer jacket, and followed Nick to his truck.
It took longer than usual to get to the outlet center. I plugged my Nick Phone into his cigarette lighter. Even though the streets had been plowed and showered with salt, Nick drove with caution. Several traffic lights had defaulted to flashing red. The mall was dark, as were the surrounding streetlights and holiday decorations.
The parking lot was mostly empty. A couple of cars remained behind, covered by snow. I pulled on pink mittens and a matching hat and held my coat closed by my neckline. Falling flakes had multiplied, and the wind blew them at an angle past my face. I jumped out of the truck.
I tried to walk faster but the snow hindered my progress. Nick caught up with me and grabbed my elbow. I pulled away but he had a tight grip. I slipped and fell. Nick landed on top of me.
“Stay down,” he said.
Gunshots punctured the air. I heard a pop and a sizzle. It was cold. I wriggled around to get out from under him but quickly realized he had me pinned. A car drove past us and lost control in a wide spin around the side of the mall. We jumped up and ran as fast as possible to the entrance. I fumbled and dropped the keys twice before unlocking the door.
“Give me your phone,” Nick said.
I held it out. Nick flipped to the contacts, paused at one of the names, looked at me, and then pressed the screen. “Unlock the door,” he said to me. “I’ll be right back.” He turned around. I couldn’t hear his voice. A few seconds later he hung up and handed the phone to me.
“Cat’s office is on the left side of the store.” I pointed. “Come with me.”
The door to Cat’s office was open. Nick turned on the flashlight and aimed it up. “You said the pearls fell out of the ceiling, right?”
“Right.”
“Then let’s see what else is up there.” He climbed on the desk and pushed two of the cork tiles out of place. He did a pull-up from the metal frame. He stayed there for a few seconds and then dropped back down to the desk.
“Give me a boost,” he said.
“Let me go. I’m lighter.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but can you do a pull-up?”
“Fine.” I stood on the desk and laced my fingers together. Nick put his foot on my hands and did another pull-up and, with the resistance I provided him, was able to climb up. He disappeared into the ceiling.
“Hey, River, see anything suspicious?” I asked.
His voice came back muffled. “I knew you were going to say that.”
While I waited, I stared at the carpet. There was a faint impression, slightly off center from the base of the filing cabinet. I looked up at the ceiling. “I found something down here,” I called up.
I set my phone on Cat’s desk and tipped the tall, metal file cabinet to the right, revealing a faded square of drywall behind it. I applied pressure on the square and it popped out and fell backward. I grabbed my phone and stepped through. On the floor in front of me was a strand of black pearls. They were far more lustrous than the ones I’d put on hold. I aimed the light at them and they took on a greenish-blue cast. I scooped them up and shoved them into the pocket of my coat.
I was inside the camping store where I’d bought my rain boots for my night with Dante and the blankets for my night with Nick. Slowly, I crept forward, stumbling thanks to the clunkiness of my Moon Boots. The retractable metal gate that separated the store from the mall was open. A beam of light cut its way through the dark interior. I hid next to a display of men’s plaid flannel shirts and strained to see who was with me.
Joyce Kenner.
She aimed her flashlight at the ground. I was struck by the odd manner that she held it, until I realized it was taped to something.
A gun.
It was tiny. It looked like a toy. I didn’t know squat about guns, but I couldn’t see that one inflicting enough damage to take a life.
But in a match of gun vs. pearl necklace, gun would win. The only way I was going to get out of this was to use the element of surprise. I crawled backward past a camping tent and called Nick. A few seconds later, his ringtone sounded from somewhere above me. Joyce pointed her gun/flashlight at the ceiling and fired. The bullet zinged off a length of exposed pipe. I couldn’t let her shoot again—not at Nick, who had no idea we were down here.
“Get help,” I whispered into the phone and then stood up. “Looking for something?” I asked. Joyce turned toward me and the gun/flashlight followed. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for a strand of pearls that you dropped behind a file cabinet.”
She looked surprised to find me there. I didn’t know if Nick had heard me. Why hadn’t we called the police when we arrived? When the shots were fired in the parking lot? Even if Nick could call them now, would the weather keep them away?
I pulled the black pearls out of my pocket. “These aren’t like the other pearls that George placed in Cat’s inventory, are they? They don’t look like regular pearls.” I rested them in my open palm. “They don’t feel like regular pearls.”
Joyce lunged forward and grabbed for the necklace. I swung my hand back out of reach. “Cat said the order she bought from George was worth about thirty thousand dollars retail. The whole order.” I held up the necklace. “I’m guessing this strand is worth a bit more than that, isn’t it?”
“Give them to me.” She lunged toward me again and I yanked them back. “Two people have died over that necklace. What makes you think you won’t be number three?”
“Out of curiosity, what are they worth?” I was stalling for time to give Nick a chance to get away. Joyce had acknowledged the murders. She had no intention of letting me walk away.
“It took five years to produce that necklace,” said a weak voice from the floor behind her. I craned my neck and saw Tom Kenner leaning against a wooden picnic table. The light from my phone illuminated a dark shiny substance on the thigh of his trousers. “They’re natural pearls produced from wild oysters. Gem quality. That strand is worth close to a million dollars.”
31
TUESDAY, REALLY LATE
“You—shut up!” Joyce yelled at her husband. “You did this when you slept with that woman. You were supposed to fix this. Now I have to clean up your mess.” Joyce looked at me. “Give me the necklace.”
“You’ll get the pearls when I get answers,” I said. “Why did you kill George? What did he do to you?”
“She didn’t kill George. I did,” Tom said from the floor. “I had to.”
I thought about George lying on the floor behind the jewelry counter with the pearls tied around his neck. “You shot him but he didn’t die. That’s why you had to strangle him with the pearls.”
“Poetic, don’t you think?” Tom said. “I made every arrangement to get that necklace through customs, but George outsmarted me. When it ended up in his wife’s store, I had to get it back.”
“You killed George over this necklace?” I asked.
“That necklace was for me. My husband made a very big mistake when he cheated on me. For a million dollar necklace, I could forgive the affair.”
I didn’t know if Nick had gotten my message or not. The bullet Joyce had fired had bounced off of the ceiling but if she fired again, things might be different. There were twe
nty feet between us. If Joyce rushed me, I wouldn’t get away.
My mind flashed over the emergency supplies in my pockets. Rope. Duct tape. Scissors.
Scissors.
I reached into my pocket and felt around for the scissors but kept talking. “And Aguilar? Why kill him?”
Tom spoke. “If he’d told me where to find the necklace, he might still be alive.”
“He was a criminal,” Joyce added dismissively. “He deserved to die.”
I looked back and forth between Tom and Joyce Kenner. Tom, who had killed two people, now bleeding on the floor of the camping store from a gunshot wound inflicted by his wife. Joyce, who showed no signs of distaste over her husband’s actions. They were certifiable.
Joyce stepped forward and aimed the gun at me. “Now give me the pearls.”
“Fine,” I said. Before I could rethink my actions, I pulled the necklace out of my pocket and sliced through the silk cord on which it was strung. Individual knots between the pearls kept them from scattering around our feet like I’d wanted.
Both Joyce and Tom’s eyes went wild and crazy. “No!” Joyce screamed. I gripped the necklace tightly in my left hand and sliced through the silk cord at randomly spaced intervals. I grabbed at the end of the silk cord and pushed against the lustrous black pearls. One by one they slid over the knots between them and fell, bouncing against the cold marble floor and scattering wildly. Joyce tossed the gun to the floor and dropped to her knees, clawing at the rapidly scattering orbs. Several rolled into the stream of blood that trickled out of the wound in Tom’s thigh.
I grabbed the gun and aimed it at Joyce. I knew I couldn’t pull the trigger.
“NIIIIIIIIICK!!!” I yelled. “I need heeeeeeeeeelp!”
The Lycra of Joyce’s catsuit displayed a lean, muscular body that had been kept hidden under palazzo pants and caftans. This was no pudgy middle-aged wife. This was a woman who took great pains to fight the aging process with perky man-made breasts, sandblasted porcelain skin, pearly white teeth. But it would take a lot of high priced stylists to make Joyce Kenner regain the appearance of a society lady after this. Suddenly, the pile of lingerie made sense. She was a desperate wife somewhere past middle age, watching younger women get the attention she once received. She was down but not out.
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