A Treacherous Treasure

by Leighann Dobbs

  “Let me help you out to the sofa.” Claire grabbed her elbow and steered her toward the living room. “We’ll come back tomorrow to finish our visit. Maybe you’ll feel better then.”

  “That’s a good idea. I’ll dig the brooch out of my jewelry box and try to find those pictures in the basement.”

  Claire settled Mari on the couch and tucked an orange-and-green crocheted afghan around her legs. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

  Mari already had the remote control in her hand, and her attention turned to the sixty-inch television in the corner. “I’m perfectly fine. Don’t worry. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

  Dom turned toward the door, his eyebrow tingling. He had a feeling Mari had important information that could be critical to solving the case. Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

  10

  The rain had put a damper on further investigations, so Claire and Dom decided to call it a night after their visit to Mari. Claire had returned to her stone cottage and indulged in a dinner of salmon and sautéed kale and garlic then turned in early, hoping that a good night’s rest would jog loose some insights into the case.

  But the next day she woke up with just as many questions as the day before.

  What had been in the treasure chest to begin with? What kind of evidence was in the storage unit that was so important that someone rushed over to clear it out? And was that person connected to Greenbriar Manor?

  And then there was the matter of motive. What was the motive for Elbert’s murder in the first place? Was it greed over not wanting to share the treasure, or something else? Because the greed angle didn’t pan out if they hadn't found any treasure, as the other members of the treasure-hunting club had been suggesting.

  Unless they were lying.

  But if they were, and it was greed, why stop at Elbert? There were four people in the treasure club. Wouldn’t the greedy person want to kill the others, too, so he could have it all for himself?

  What if only one person knew about the treasure? Well, two: the killer and Elbert. Everyone involved claimed no treasure was ever found. Were they all keeping something from Dom and Claire, or did only one of them know that there really was a treasure?

  Benjamin and Quentin were the only surviving members. They’d seemed sincere, but Claire had known many other killers who also seemed sincere.

  Claire thought about the other treasure club members. Benjamin Hill had protested the digging. He was now quite wealthy, although he claimed it was from investments. Claire made a mental note to investigate his early finances and see if what he claimed was true. Although his grandson, Allen, wasn’t so eager for him to talk to them, Benjamin hadn’t seemed like he was hiding anything. Maybe Benjamin was a skilled liar and Allen knew more than he was letting on.

  Then there was Quentin Crane. He must be quite wealthy to live at Greenbriar Manor. But he’d been happy to talk to them, too, and didn’t seem like he was avoiding the subject at all. Then again, he could also be lying.

  They couldn’t talk to Billy Wilkinson, but Mari certainly didn’t live the lavish lifestyle of the widow of someone who had struck it rich, though she did have all the nicer things in her home—new appliances and a big TV.

  That left the fifth member. The silent partner. Claire thought of all the wealthy people on the island. Could one of them be the killer? She couldn’t think of anyone who had come into money sixty years ago who would also have been the same age to be in the treasure club. There were very few wealthy islanders, but most of them had family money going back much further than sixty years.

  Maybe the killer stashed the treasure away to let time pass. Hid it for decades so that it wouldn’t be associated with the treasure club. And maybe that person died … and the treasure was recently discovered. Had someone on the island recently come into money? Someone besides Jane?

  Claire had been excited to see Mari's pictures of the treasure-hunting club, but now she realized they wouldn’t show the silent partner. None of the other members of the group besides Bill had known who that was, and if he had been in pictures with them, then they would have been able to name him.

  Maybe that brooch Mari had would give them something to follow up on. Mari had said the brooch was old and dirty, though. Wouldn’t Bill have told her if it was valuable pirate treasure?

  Claire pushed away unwanted thoughts of Jane clutching the small box from the storage unit. That box had been small enough to hold several brooches. Claire shook her head. Now she was grasping at straws. There was no way Jane or her father were mixed up in Elbert’s death.

  Chocolate. Chocolate helped her think better.

  Claire went to the kitchen cupboard to search for a piece of dark chocolate. Dark chocolate was her vice. She allowed herself only a few small pieces a day. She hid them around the house so they wouldn’t be within easy reach and so she’d have to work to get them.

  When her search of the cupboard turned up empty, she moved over to the table beside the overstuffed chair where she did her crossword puzzles. She opened the drawer, sticking her hand way inside to the back. Nope. Nothing there.

  There was one last place—the server over by the window. She crossed to the window and pulled open the middle drawer, her hand pushing away the junk-drawer accumulation of papers, keys, and various odd items as she felt for the familiar rectangular shape.

  Bingo! She pulled out her hand and smiled at the little rectangle of dark-chocolate ambrosia clutched in her fingers.

  The plastic wrapper crinkled, and she popped the candy into her mouth, savoring the sweet, slightly bitter taste. Her gaze drifted out the window. It was dark outside, the sun only a thin orange line at the very edge of the horizon. But something else was lighting the night farther down Israel Head Hill: flashing red and blue lights.

  She leaned closer, her face practically touching the cold glass of the window, but she couldn’t tell exactly where the light was coming from.

  Opening the patio doors, she hurried outside, rushing down to the edge of the property. The storm had cleared out, but the air still had that spring-shower smell, and the ground was soft, especially at the edge of her yard where she now stood, leaning precariously over the railing to try to determine exactly where the lights were coming from.

  She leaned out a tad farther and saw Robby’s police car parked on the street, the lights flashing and the doors open. Her heart skipped in her chest when she realized where the commotion was.

  Mari Wilkinson’s house.

  11

  In the pristine kitchen of his condo, Dom lifted the linen napkin from where it sat exactly one inch from the side of his plate. He shook it open and placed it squarely in his lap then turned his attention to the cannoli in the exact middle of his plate.

  He picked up the confection and crunched through the outer shell, the creamy, sweet ricotta cheese mixture melting in his mouth. As he chewed, he thought over the case.

  So many suspects, but which one was the killer? Had Elbert been killed for the treasure, or was there some other motive? Was the killer even still alive? Who had cleaned out Elbert’s storage unit, and who was the woman that had visited it? Did she have a tie-in to the case, or was it coincidence?

  “Twiller!” Romeo tweeted as if echoing Dom’s thoughts. Dom finished off the cannoli and got a spray of millet from its storage place in the sideboard then opened the cage and clipped it to the side.

  Gently petting Romeo’s head with his index finger, he said, “You are right, my friend. We need to find the real killer.”

  Romeo shot a knowing look at him then scurried over to the millet, pecking away at it in quick, sharp movements. Juliet pulled her head from under her wing and cautiously approached the millet spray, pecking at the seeds in a more cautious manner.

  “Peepurer,” Romeo tweeted.

  “Yes. Murderer.” Dom's eyes drifted out past the deck, where the orange sun was now kissing the top of the Atlantic. But it wasn’t the sun that caught his eye. There seemed to be som
e sort of a commotion going on down at the bottom of the hill. He couldn’t see exactly what it was, but he could see flashing red and blue lights reflecting off the windows of one of the homes.

  Dom’s eyebrows twitched with the familiar tingle. Something of interest had happened.

  He hurried back to the kitchen table, quickly cleaning off his plate and placing it neatly in the dishwasher then making sure to wipe all the crumbs off the table with the small whisk brush he had just for that purpose. Satisfied that his kitchen was in perfect order, he hurried out the door, eager to get to the bottom of the hill and see what, exactly, was going on.

  Although Dom routinely walked Israel Head Hill as part of his exercise regimen, he didn’t walk this time. He was in too much of a hurry, so he drove, his gut churning as he turned the corner to reveal the source of the commotion was Mari Wilkinson’s house. Not surprisingly, Claire was standing right on the front steps.

  He hurried to join her, mounting the steps himself just as Robby came out the front door.

  “What’s happened?” Dom asked in a low voice.

  Robby grimaced, leaning in toward Dom and Claire and lowering his voice. “Mari Wilkinson has been murdered. I need some help, Auntie. Can you help hold the crowd back?”

  Dom and Claire exchanged a glance. Mari murdered? Surely it was no coincidence. It had to have something to do with Elbert’s case.

  Even though Robby had kept his voice low, it didn’t take long for the truth to circulate. Dom could hear the dismayed whispers as the crowd pressed closer to the house.

  Claire turned to face them, holding her palms up. “Stay back, everybody, let the police do their job.”

  “Do their job? If they were doing their job, a murderer wouldn’t be running around loose,” someone yelled from the crowd.

  “I’m sure they’re doing the best they can,” Claire shot back.

  “Pffft. First old skeletons in treasure chests and now people are being picked off like sitting ducks,” Hiram Moody yelled from somewhere in back.

  “Yeah, we demand action!” someone else added.

  “Now, now,” Claire soothed the crowd. “Rob is doing everything he can. I’m sure there is nothing to worry about and the killer will be caught soon. There is no reason to believe that anyone else is in danger. This could be an isolated incident, but if you don’t stand back and let him do his job, it will take longer to find who did it.”

  Zambuco pulled up in his official police car. That’s odd, Dom thought, flicking his eyes toward the cove where the ferry was docked. The first run of the day was not for another hour. How in the world did Zambuco get here? He had to be staying somewhere on the island. Dom’s eyes slid over to Claire, taking note of the narrow-eyed look she was focusing on Zambuco. Claire must be thinking the same thing and probably coming to the same disturbing conclusion.

  If Zambuco was staying somewhere on the island, Dom could only think of one person who would welcome him. Jane.

  “Okay, everyone, take it on home.” The crowd parted for Zambuco, and he made his way toward Claire and Dom, casting an angry glare at them before turning to address the crowd. “There’s nothing to see here. Move it on out.”

  The crowd started to disperse, and Zambuco turned to Claire and Dom. “That means you, too.”

  “Of course. We were just trying to help with the crowd,” Claire said.

  Zambuco snorted and walked into the house.

  “Why do they listen to him and not me?” Claire asked, eyeing the dispersing crowd as they headed down the walkway.

  “He’s meaner.” Dom glanced across the street to see Alice James standing on her steps, a pink quilted bathrobe hastily thrown over her pajamas. This was the first time he’d seen her without knitting needles in her hand.

  “Look, there’s Alice. We should go find out if she saw anything,” Dom said.

  “Good idea.”

  Alice tore her eyes from Mari’s front door as she noticed them crossing the street, and a smile broke out on her face. “Dom! Claire! What’s going on?” She lowered her voice as they came up beside her. “I heard Mari was murdered.”

  “Afraid so,” Dom said.

  “How terrible.” Alice’s eyes flicked back over to the crime scene. “Oh, umm… Would you like to come in for some tea?”

  Alice’s home was a modest cape which appeared not to have been updated since the mid-1970s. The living room boasted a floral sofa and a thick, upholstered La-Z-Boy recliner on top of a large, oval braided rug.

  An extra-fluffy orange cat appeared from nowhere and twined itself around Dom’s legs.

  Claire bent down to pet it. “Hi, Beasley. You just reminded me, I didn’t put out any treats for Porch Cat today.”

  “Oh, Porch Cat came by here earlier this morning. I fed her quite nicely.” Alice continued through the open living room doorway into the kitchen and shot over her shoulder, “Is herbal tea okay? I don’t have anything stronger.”

  “Herbal’s fine.” Dom followed her into the avocado-and-gold kitchen and sat at the glitter-flecked Formica table. Though Alice’s furnishings and home were outdated, everything was in pristine condition. It was like stepping into a time machine.

  The cat had followed them and sat in front of the refrigerator, swishing her tail and blinking at them, while Alice filled three thick ceramic mugs with hot water and put a basket of tea bags in the middle of the table along with the milk and sugar. Dom picked out an herbal mint, and Claire went with lemon zinger.

  Alice sat down and picked up her knitting, winding the purple yarn over the needle, then muttering under her breath and backtracking to rip out stitches.

  “Is something upsetting you?” Claire asked.

  “There was a murder just next door! Wouldn’t you be upset?”

  Claire nodded but said nothing.

  “I mean, it could have been me!”

  “Three out of four murders are committed by someone the victim knows personally,” Dom said.

  Alice’s incredulous look had Dom wondering what he had said wrong. Didn’t everyone appreciate statistics as much as he did?

  “Everyone knows everyone on this island!” Alice said.

  “Only about one out of four murders is committed during some other kind of felony, like robbery. Almost half arise out of arguments. It was probably personal. I’m sure you aren’t targeted.” Dom settled back in his chair, certain that he had put Alice’s fears to rest.

  But judging by the way Alice clutched her knitting needles to her chest, it didn’t seem as if she was convinced.

  Claire rolled her eyes at Dom and placed a soothing hand on Alice’s arm. “It’s terrible, but don’t worry. We’ll find who is responsible. For this murder and for Elbert Daniels.”

  “You think the two are connected?” This thought seemed to calm Alice. Dom reasoned that she figured if Mari’s killer had something to do with Elbert, then she had nothing to worry about. He grudgingly admitted that Claire's more touchy-feely methods worked better than statistics to calm people down.

  “Almost definitely. We were only talking to Mari yesterday as we followed a lead. Maybe we got too close to the truth,” Claire said.

  Claire and Dom exchanged a look. Mari had perhaps been going to name the silent partner. Could that person be responsible for both killings?

  Claire looked at Alice over the rim of her mug. “Did you see or hear anyone visit Mari last night?”

  “No. But then, I had the TV on. I’m getting a little hard of hearing, so I needed to turn it up loud. And it was raining hard last night.”

  “What about in the past week?” Dom asked. “Has anyone suspicious visited her or lurked around the neighborhood?”

  “Suspicious? No. Benjamin Hill and his grandson stopped by, but they do that now and again. Though his grandson didn’t seem happy to be carting Ben around like that. A bit ungrateful, if you ask me.” Alice pursed her lips and then resumed knitting.

  “Anyone else?” Claire asked.

  Al
ice wrinkled her face and looked up at the ceiling. “Well, I saw the Greenbriar Manor shuttle out front in the late afternoon, so maybe Quentin Crane came by. He comes now and again, more infrequently these days. Though, come to think of it, he usually hires a private car. Maybe Mari contacted the manor to see about getting on the waiting list.”

  All the clues were pointing to the other members of the treasure-hunting club, but Dom couldn’t stop thinking about that dirty old brooch Mari had said she had. What if there really was a treasure that only some of the members knew about, and what if those that knew had hidden some of it in plain sight … like Mari’s jewelry box and Elbert’s storage unit?

  Dom’s mind flashed on Marcy telling them about the woman who had come to look at the storage unit. Maybe she was mixed up in this and wanted to claim all the treasure.

  “You didn’t happen to see a tall, young, brunette woman hanging around, did you?”

  “I don’t think… Wait, yes! She was driving the Greenbriar shuttle! Why?”

  Dom pressed his lips together, not sure what to say. Driving the shuttle? He wasn’t expecting that. Surely this was no coincidence, especially in combination with those red pebbles from the meditation garden there.

  “Can you think of anyone else who came by? Anyone who might have been out of place?” Claire asked, apparently not as intrigued with the brunette driving the shuttle as Dom.

  “No. Well, except…maybe Jane. But she’s not out of place. I mean she’s an islander, and it’s perfectly natural for her to stop by.”

  “You saw her the other day?” Dom asked.

  “Actually, I saw her last night just when the sun went down. Remember the clouds had cleared, and then there was one of those rare downpours where it's raining and the sun is out. I was looking out for a rainbow, and that's when I saw her. She was knocking on Mari’s door,” Alice said.

  Dom exchanged a glance with a green-faced Claire.